IMMORTAL CITY | As I walked through the rubble of the abandoned immortal city, I wondered what lived, what stories and memories once filled the streets. A composition at dead centre, nothing with breath, no footpaths left, all overgrown by the simple and inevitable decay of time. When great cities fall, they leave behind a deep feeling of desolation, reminding us of the enormity of lost potential. These immortal buildings now appear as nothing less than concrete graves. The city, once the centre of all, has now been rendered less, painted over with splats of colour combined with peeling paint, all to remind us of its diminishing importance. It has become symbolic of both emptiness and form.
MAP OF LIFE | The places we have been, the pathways of a former adventure. We are always fading into and out of moments in life. The beginning and the end are thus the essence of each sacred being. The pose reflects her adventures with a gentle beauty and quiet poise.
A MOMENT IN TIME | The subtleties and imaginings of a culture with two people intimately interacting. The lines of texture covering them are symbolic of how culture is hardwired onto and into us. A subjective interpretation, a feminine character on the left bows her head as she considers a serious concern expressed by the person on the right. The textured lines around their foreheads hint at two individuals sharing a certain way of life. They are immortalized into these lines even as their culture fades from our awareness.
MIND PARTICLES | Our minds are like uncompromising grids. Even with body firmly planted in life and with death calling (inevitable), our mind prevents us from seeing our actual (present) condition of death’s steady transformation, allowing denial to remain fixed, even while the particles are separating from the body.
ALTERED DIMENSIONS | Growth and potential of the physical body offset by the slow, steady eradication of all physical manifestations. Altered Dimensions is a body, even while posing with a transparent mask (cling wrap), fading to nothing. Reflections on life and beauty amount to little more than traces of a body, emptied even of its temporal nature despite attempts at clinging to that which falls/returns to formlessness.
