Transformation: The Completion Delay Constant

Everything in its proper place, made immobile by epoxy, the construction is finished or very well ought to be. The kettle fell last night and now I gaze upon glue falling messily down glass. There is still work to be done, but I will abandon it for now. Let it lie.

Half-stumbling, half-gasping I realize I leave nothing unless unfinished. I allow the endless tension to drive the want, the thirst, for never a found idea, only seeking all in a staggering climb. My life, my work is constantly building, rebuilding. I destruct and move forward with everything and the "I".

and so it goes.........

Transformation: Inbetweens

Watches. Unused, untouched lightbulbs. Mirrors. Remnants of forgotten newspaper. A tea stain as sign of where one had been before.

Circularity in the shape of the original pieces of the tranformation, the broken time pieces, the mirrors points to the idea of infinity. Reflective surfaces are the endless span of time intertwined with life. All perception of time is lost when one leaves reality for the complacency found in artificial constructions of "happiness".

and so it goes.........

Transformation: The Beginnings

A copper teakettle. Generic white ceramic mug.

The impetus of the idea of the transformation and transformation of such ideas has been the constant and simultaneous frustration and compassion I feel toward humanity. Memories, connectivity, and the utter brilliance attached to untouched happiness—the pure and simple essence—collide with the motion of the world (or, at least, the world as it seems). Technoculture is pulling mankind in the way of perfection, while sacrificing any and all possibility of reaching such heights. A realm in which perfect happiness is attained has a void where the very form ought to lie. Synthetic happiness and mechanized hope lack.

The world feels stagnation because invention is securing that which it once sought. The departure from the search for simple pleasure in life has led to inaction as men participate in the monotony and endlessness that is a virtual world. Time is being poured into an infinite space. Ideas are spilled forth before they even yet come to be. One asks why humanity has fallen; it is giving to and loving the machines it creates and abandoning a sense of momentum.

Selection of these found objects lies within the cosmic sense of time. Time passing, time standing still before unblinking eyes on blank screens, behind which viridescent motherboards lie. Human contact and traces of the world as it once was have been replaced in favor of the convenience of the immediate synthetic connectivity given by the stretches of computer networks.

and so it goes.........