The Orchestrated Past
The Orchestrated Past
The corridor ruins stretch ahead, lined with ancient statues that resemble a watchful audience. I use the small lens to bring each figure into sharp focus. My ancestors, fertility idols, and, resting in my palm, is a mammoth. Golden light, filtering through cracks in the ceiling, illuminates the dust motes suspended in the air.
The weathered sculptures dictate my mood, a resonant, hallucinatory score. Each one is a surviving moral, and my augmented lens, acting as a conductor's baton, reveals the fine details: fractures, lichen, worn expressions as proof that they have survived erasure.
When I raise the lens, the mammoth in my palm seems to plant itself as a precious stone that will not be cast. My thinking shatters into ancient fragments of trance: ice, myth, and vanished ceremonies. The entire hall seems to hum, as if my shattering vibrates among the figures.
My goal is the glowing light at the corridor's end, and I try not to pause. These statues, once intentionally placed, now stand in a state of abandonment. My fingers flow as if choreographed by a hallucination that lingers in time. The history is carrying me forward through their silent, observant act.
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The Orchestrated Past
The Orchestrated Past
The corridor ruins stretch ahead, lined with ancient statues that resemble a watchful audience. I use the small lens to bring each figure into sharp focus. My ancestors, fertility idols, and, resting in my palm, is a mammoth. Golden light, filtering through cracks in the ceiling, illuminates the dust motes suspended in the air.
The weathered sculptures dictate my mood, a resonant, hallucinatory score. Each one is a surviving moral, and my augmented lens, acting as a conductor's baton, reveals the fine details: fractures, lichen, worn expressions as proof that they have survived erasure.
When I raise the lens, the mammoth in my palm seems to plant itself as a precious stone that will not be cast. My thinking shatters into ancient fragments of trance: ice, myth, and vanished ceremonies. The entire hall seems to hum, as if my shattering vibrates among the figures.
My goal is the glowing light at the corridor's end, and I try not to pause. These statues, once intentionally placed, now stand in a state of abandonment. My fingers flow as if choreographed by a hallucination that lingers in time. The history is carrying me forward through their silent, observant act.
Podcast:
www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLXaHuXMcUMrhIzfjKlj9clJCOf...
Meta TV
www.facebook.com/watch/100063480315046/1020837046583872/
Blogger
www.jjfbbennett.com/2025/10/necropolis-gully.html
FB Subscriber Hub
www.facebook.com/share/g/1AycZvNRzH/
eBook
www.amazon.com/author/jjfbbennett
Tags
#art #Spacestation #scifi #fictionalworld #story #arthouse #futuristic #spaceadventure #Sanctuary #Revitalisation #Retro #art #metaart #videoart #videoartist