0.X27 – Projected Animation

0.X27 – Projected Animation

Programmed Animations are tricked by prolonged observance. Pixels are dilated through shifted numerous additions. What you see in front of you, may require close attention to the curve and exogenous details.

(Projection)

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The last note is present as soon as the first note is registered. The sound is already established but like lightning, what you see is whats first visualized onto the canvas.

Life is more when there’s a written memory of it being recalled. Details get lost in the space and by the time you catch up, there are only the shadows. When hidden in the darkness, the light becomes a threat. You’re only comforted by what you can tolerate. If you refuse the taste, the food is better not being served from the start. Lines and lines again, I’m listening to Duke by taking The A Train and Rocking in Rhythm!

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Memories recall in strange places almost as foreign is my reaction to them. For all that I’m consuming – I steadily wish to create. I am a broken shell longing to be repaired or broken up some more of the grind. It’s not that bad but how can one swim in an ocean of brokenness? There is no attempt to be whole when my being is fragmented on the oceans of what was said to hurt me.

Life is spinning and so I’m reminded that the end is not yet? I felt locked up before now I’m suddenly free. But to what end shall I meet? Must I face the music and own up to the reality? Perhaps, I should speak in fragments and isolated attempts, maybe that’ll prepare me for looking at the beast!

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The beast has become my friend although once a stranger. I invited its greeting into my life. One wing at a time, one potato fry at a time. My body fat will reduce as to expose my abs – but then what? Appeal? We have to switch the light bulb with precision, as to not stumble anymore in darkness.

What you see is supported by invisible bones. A structure is rarely given proper examination because gravity falls victim to fleeting attention spans.

Remember To…

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Fruit of Constellation

Fruit of Constellation

In the unseen, my shadows await their victory. A conqueror of the night takes the proper crown and slays all possible enemies. The fight has returned to a notion of liberty. For if one is free – one must fight and stand for their freedom. The prison is deep with lairs of darkness and symphonies of alienation.

For the time has come where the feast has begun. I wouldn’t dare stuff my face when others have not eaten. Some rather not eat because others have not eaten. Should I allow the food to spoil and to waste because some choose not to attend the party? A feast with no participates – is an uneventful party.

10 stars belong to me and 5 are for you. We have each been given a promise with these stars and the oath is one to decree to the nations. If I give away these stars, I only stand to gain. Giving away all that I have, for what is mine is what also belongs to a stranger. At the very least the crumbs can be a benefit. The breadcrumbs linger and request for the dogs to be fed. I wonder how much do we really need for ourselves?

We are given only so much until we are left with nothing. What then? How can we move past what has already disappeared? What do we have to offer when it’s all gone? The crumbs can’t be for us when we have eaten the main meal.

I’m only eating as a means of survival – the moment I stop. I begin to crave more. A taste for brighter constellations awaits me in the midnight sky. I can’t believe what is slipping away from me at this very moment.

Nothing is here, and time is consuming me as the day chases the night in a hurry – Now 5 stars belong to me and 10 are for you. I am losing but gaining by the eating away of the crumbs.

I’m eating the fruit of constellations.

Missed Under Standing

Missed Under Standing

If the moment is caressed by anxiety and lack of motivation, how can one completely live in it? It’s not always easy being courageous enough to face the inevitable. You know what’s avoidable by the plague of normalcy. Specific patterns are driven in our subconscious. We don’t always stumble because we walk in darkness, sometimes too much light can distort our navigation.

We are not always equipped to say what we want to say in heat of the moment. I encourage vulnerability but I’d be the first to admit, this isn’t always easy.

Having the courage to put our thoughts into words takes time and effort. This still doesn’t mean everyone gets the full spectrum of what is being said. Examples come and go, but I like to believe this diagram is quite illustrative of what it’s like having a conversation (online especially) *this diagram has been created before but I’ve redesigned it*

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At the heart of it, we want to be understood. Nina Simone said it quite soulfully:

Nina Simone said it quite soulfully:

“Baby you understand me now
If sometimes you see that I’m mad
Doncha know no one alive can always be an angel?
When everything goes wrong, you see some bad
But I’m just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood…”

My intentions are to make you dance. To make you play. It doesn’t always come easy. The rules of chess take time. Fragments to the ear are bits and pieces processed all the way to the heart. It’s not the full story, but rarely if ever the full story is given at one time. It takes time. Art helps us fill in the gaps. Illustrations are great ways of saying a lot.

The reason why people raise their voices is that they feel they aren’t getting through.

‘U got 2 go through, 2 get 2 it…” – The Work Pt.1

People just want to make sense. They want to get to the bottom of what you are saying. The top may be hard to get, but the foundation while invisible to most eyes, still deserve investigative research. The less you say, the better. People don’t expect performance. Behavior is what tells people the destination of your words.

Which is why we must perform. The unexpected. The unexpected is guaranteed at the moment. Live in it. Breathe in it. Listen to the moment, when the moment is yours. You are always gonna be thinking. People gonna also take what they want to take from it.

To a degree, we all got selective hearing. Hearing what we want to hear. Bits and pieces of what makes sense to the story in our head. When getting to the truth – we got to get through the lines.

The lines ain’t always easy. We have to draw with the ink that we have at the moment. I’ve made it a clear purpose of mine, to speak honestly. I can’t be worrying about what others perceive about my art pieces. If you have questions, I’ll welcome you to my gallery. I got all kind of cool shit on my walls. If you want to know the context behind the colors I choose to use, the shapes that I decide to geometrically parallel, feel free to study them. Understand them. The cool thing about art is that more than one meaning can be taken from it.

If you are standing under, you’ve missed it. Stand tall. For when the moment presents itself to you-you can only speak on what you know. People might only get a piece of what you are delivering to them. That’s a reaction to their hearing. What was processed in their ears? A circle runs by infinity. Expand by the embrace of the moment.

I’m getting better at being in the moment. We talk a great deal about living in the moment, but this isn’t always easy when the past is looking back at us. The past is a beast of burden because it carries meaning. Especially if abuse was experienced. You always remember your scars. It doesn’t dissolve in the face of the future. I’m living out of the search of my scars.  These scars are told by the past that came before it. They do not define them.

So what was heard is not always the fullness of what was said // but in time all circles find the full revolution. (If you have 3 Dollars  and 6 dimes at least)

Moon Rush

 I thought I was able to make a video from this piece I entitled “Moon Rush” but words fail to describe this, within the length of explanation. Expressions seem to emotionalize through visuals, but this night, it is meant to be read and understood. I am drawn to the consciousness of what is in the night, as creation and expressions shine so bright!

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Acknowledging the sleepless nite! O, how I remember thee!

You come and beg of me a journey of endless lines.

So here I am – flipping through the pages and my gratitude is revealed by looking at you!

O, humble night; I have been slain through the unending symmetry. 

Morning is here, by the rush of the moon.

No one truly studied the glow in the night – the sacred light that beams through the sky.

Looking in the daylight sky, she is hidden by the covering of the day and passing clouds.

Stars as meek and shy to the galaxies unknown reveal their great posture and fire.

Hollow is the night, which invites the carnal eyes who visit the nightmares of darkness. 

As if you were on fire from within.

The moon lives in the lining of your skin!

Peculiar passions of haunting depictions which write on the stars!

Absorbed Massacre

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DREAM EARLIER TODAY: I woke up to one of those absorbed massacres! Apparently, I went to a library late at night and while on the computer I placed my bag on the floor. While getting ready to leave, the dude sitting next to me, tried to steal everything from my bag. So as I stood up, and called him out on it, he gave me back everything he hid under his TALL-T. When I commanded every one of my items, he angrily obliged. So I placed everything back in my backpack after I double checked, I then proceeded to walk out in frustration. I slammed the door. Suddenly, I heard various alarm sounds and a voice came from the speakers, to kill me. So I ran out and looked earnestly for a way of escape. There was an ocean hanging from the mountains, I prepared myself as I ran with force and soared across the oasis. I started to fly and everything that was in my bag seemed to not matter at all.

So I guess the question is, would I allow him to steal my items to avoid being murdered? I am glad, I ran out with my things because it taught me I was able to fly.

AHH! DREAMS. They come to you like this sometimes!

What a revelation!

I was locked up in a cell of demonic whispers and conclusions. I went out to evaluate the multitude of vehicles, noticing each of them had their lights on. The rain dropped easily on my clothes; as to remind me of my sense of life. Suddenly, I heard a very dark voice calling my name. I didn’t want to look back and drive into safety. Instead, I opened the door and saw a large flower which then taunted me, before swallowing me whole. I then screamed for mercy! Eventually, I was thrown up and taken to a door where I was able to see through a small hole – a mass congregation. The kingdom of my being has been called counterfeit. Its knowledge is counted as illusions and conditioned manifestations of tradition. Like a bird I have soared over daylight to find food for my children; to remember the nest which carries them. The pictures of flight and the freedom it brings; takes stagnation by a grip and chokes it.

The Consciousness Of Darkness

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Within the consciousness of darkness lies the deliveries of crude manifestations of evil and profane pronouncements.

Designers become uncomprehending as no positive patterns are being yielded.

What was trusted into this darkness sought inspiration from a slandering and ignorance of the light?

Without this light, the story and the script made no sense.

Given no structure to its void, there was simply an abyss of nothingness.

No meaning and sacred designs allowed this mindset to cast out everything it was originally given.

The offspring of this darkness lends a passion of imponderable abilities to wrong with a forgetful yet maintained caused.

The alien of the maximized desecration seeks to plant seeds in the hearts of all those moved in the parallel notion to the light.

In relative passions of abominable pursuits, the purveyors of sensual pleasures illustrated the very picture which taunted those in the light.

But by the calling out of one’s name, the fashion that was naked in confidence gained a sense of protection.

Fasteners and fabric met again to hide what was deemed private by the eating of the fruit.

Now here is the intelligence of the abyss, the place where rebellion authorizes the plea to challenge the script.

Freedom is now handed to the memory that is reminiscent of truth which stands true.

Summarized Notion For Thought: Evil is to life what contradiction is to reason. Now, this is the morning of your dynasty! Sleeping now only will awake you somehow!