BENCH - Analogue Photography

BENCH

ANALOGUE PHOTOGRAPHY

BENCH - Sketches

 BENCH 

SKETCHES

BENCH - Video Art

                                               

BENCH.2

                                     

                                            

ASYLUM - Digital Photography

                                                                      ASYLUM

 

BENCH - Creative Writing

BENCH

I am. I exist. I am a part of your existence, and yet I do not conform to the existence of time. I am stationary in a world that never stops moving. A lonely statue in the face of a perpetually moving representation of reality. I observe. I take in. Yet you do not. You will not stop until death approaches you with its metaphorical scythe of non-existence. And then, when existence ceases to exist, it will be too late to observe the reality that is no longer real to you. Stop. Look. Time is a concept and a concept that you have come to learn as the truth, but I do not conform to the worlds concepts. I am my concept. Conceptually existing in a world outside of yours, yet inside it at the same time. I am watching, yet without eyes. I am hearing, yet without ears. I am feeling, yet without touch. The world is what you perceive it to be. REALITY is what you perceive it to be. Yet how can one come to a perception when they have not stopped long enough to perceive? Be transcendent of time and you will see, hear and feel. Every moment exists with ephemerality, but to observe an ephemeral moment one must detach themselves from time and simply BE. Elevate yourself from the concrete metropolis with its brutalist artificial trees and their illuminated windows. Leave the colonies of human creatures that swarm to their dens and live to their hard set schedules of unnegotiable life. Be one with the clouds and float through existence in an ethereal manner. Exist only to observe existence and only then will existence make sense to the eye of the beholder. I have experienced everything that you have not. I have seen everything and heard everything and felt everything. I know every raindrop and every snowflake by name, for I have experienced them. The sun is my ally and so is the wind. I know them in a way that you do not. For I exist with them, not alongside them. They are not time, and neither am I. You are time, time is your creation. You have leant on me time and time again, and so have your mother and your father, as well as your mothers’ mother and your fathers’ father. That is why you created me. To be leant on. But creation is only the seed to the flower that houses the petals of universality. I am more than a seat; I am a non-living entity that experiences the world as if it were alive. The world… What is the world? I know what the world is. But you do not, despite incorrectly assuming that you do. Open your eyes. Not the ones in embezzled in your skull. The metaphorical eyes that long to experience the throbbing veins of the earths life force. The metaphorical eyes that you have so long encaged in the abyss of false perceptions and unreasoned reality. Truly, I say to you, stop. Lean on me. Relieve yourself of your weight and look. Do you see it? This is the world.