Transition: "the process or a period of changing from one state or condition to another/undergo or cause to undergo a process or period of transition".
A vision of transition: Everything is in flux...
Genesis – the beginning - large sound - big bang - expansion - dark matter - a sea of swirling tetrahedrons - Higgs bosons - particle, upon particle, upon particle, upon particle - event horizons - chaos - mass - form - structure, forms gaseous nuptials - skies, seas and land - sumptuous primordial soup - verdant reproduction - bright birds and lizards - disasters and destruction - death and re-birth - ages of ice - oceans of ice - obsidian obelisk - warring apes - Neanderthals - Cro-Magnon - warring homo sapiens - populating - re-populating - tribes - kingdoms - leaders - Queens and Kings - feuds - the feudal system - the rich and the poor - rip-roaring-revolution - proletariat and bourgeoisie - capitalism - want is the new need - planetary destruction - civilisation - hatred, humans, hatred - when? Entropy... Now...
Particular parents, with names, intricate identities, and bodies, meet and meld magnificently, or not so magnificently - making... You are formed, slowly you grow into a tiny human... Greeting the light and the world, your mother expels you - you live - you are born...
Light
Day - dusk - dark
Sunbeams hit cold concrete -
Heat waves wisp and obscure -
Warm sun on skin -
Twilight...
Eerie, exciting twilight -
The dying day -
The dawning night -
My favourite hue -
Soon slinks in the dark, slow at first, then immediate - darkness visible - black bliss - dusks sharp tusk -
Dark...
Cosy down, comfort sown, pillow grip - grasp - concentration - omnipresent thoughts - all thoughts, every thought, a flood of thoughts to drown in. Eyes clasped closed - tight - colours in the dark - calm water - drifting - drifted – dream... The colours return, the smells, sounds, touch – awake – awake – woke!...
Roll the dice – ice – freezing – frozen –
Cold -
Wrapped, layered -
breath onto hands -
Hands into armpits -
Tingles mingle with prickles -
White to red -
Bright burning -
Blood circulating -
Wondrously warm...
We are here now, sat on wooden chairs, lying in bunk beds, running through fields of corn, dressed in white linen dresses, positively procrastinating, staring into the void, waiting for the black hole, venturing into the abyss , writing odes, creating masterpieces, breaking boundaries – working – playing – time passes – tempus fugit...
Stood still - sound on the ground – no obvious movement, apart from that which is taking place inside – blood flowing, heart beating like a gabber kick drum, lungs doing their thing, but the body seemingly still – still as ice – still. The ghost in the shell wants to move – wants to move this soft machine – signals shoot from the brain – down the bow of the back, to the calves and thighs, and suddenly, a joyous jump, a limber leap, then a rapid run, a wistful walk, a gleeful skip, a cartwheel, and a flip...
Gregor awakes metamorphosised into something alien and nobody notices...
A butterfly carefully lays its egg on a succulent plant – from the egg appears a crawling caterpillar – here to eat and to eat alone – to grow one must shed one's skin – after several moults – chrysalis - transmutation – beauteous wings form – antennae – wing expansion – exercise, then flutter bye...
Silence... Then sublime sound waves explode from a seventeenth century cello, you are sat twelve and a half metres away from the divine creature playing it. The unsurfable waves travel at great speed into your ear canal – vibrations - brain – sound...
One moment she stood, like us all, quietly in contemplation, upon the hill, wearing tight black jeans, rolled up slightly, revealing her ankles. Accompanying the jet black jeans, was a plain black T-shirt. She was attractive, but not overly so, suddenly there was a sound louder than anybody had heard before, like thunder's louder older brother, and light shone on the black clad girl. She began to rise slowly into the air – she had become beyond beauteous – radiant – Helen of Troy would have paled in comparison, there was something stupendous about her – something tremendous – she was transfigured!...
A person close to the daunting boat ride over the River Styx, and not looking forward to meeting Cerberus, decides to put atheism aside, and to convert to...
He lies, cyborg-like, and still. Wires protruding from his nose, from his part shaven sunken chest, and from his heavily bruised arm, but this (unfortunately) is not a powerful combination of man and machine... A deep, heavy guttural snore is the only sound in the room, apart from the incessant beeping of the machines. His complexion almost olive, on a good day has turned sallow, he's a kind of translucent grey. This is an unpleasant vicissitude – an unforeseen regression. His breathing has become laboured, and his eyelids look hopelessly heavy... He takes an extremely long intake of breath, raspy, and razor sharp, followed by an equally long exhalation – his last – his last sound - the ghost leaves the shell... I check his pulse, place my hand upon his unmoving chest – but he's gone – he's passed away...
Synaesthesia: "the production of a sense impression relating to one sense or part of the body by stimulation of another sense or part of the body".
I see words sieged, in colour -
Sounds the colour of Sun and pitch-perfect oscillating fireworks -
The past, in the distance -
Apple tastes-like oranges -
The colour of the vowels -
The smell of blue -
Extreme over retention -
Enormous empathy -
Sounds haunt and caress comfortingly -
And three is a pretty girl...
A new transition: 'NeoLiteralism'
The odyssey from photography, to installation, sound art and conceptual art - the vanguard, the bold and the brave, the avant-garde, the apotheosis...
We must embrace the avant-garde, with both arms, furiously and with a mind open like an event horizon...
We must embrace the unusual, give birth to discourse - we must ask an ocean of questions, be open to questions and never fear, either an answer, or no answer...
We must plant fields of thoughts...
We must understand that, even though it may sound counter-intuitive, popular taste and opinion are not always paramount, and are always subject to change...
Sometimes we must train ourselves to understand things...
We need to break out of this egg, and crush it's broken shell, we need to be born, to be reborn - to see, and think anew...
Just looking through the window, may not do - even opening it, and peering inside, or out, may not do, we may need to either break through the window, or, perhaps, even believe that there is no window there in the first place...
Epic!
Love this!