Language of Form

Sculpting is the cure: of the requirement to indulge in poetic savagery - A word filled tragedy, of truths that are fantasy. The language of kings can no more say, what it is that I want to portray; than a mouse could convince a feline to relinquish its grip. That thing, that the king; professes the right: born disjointed into the light. King logos arms his troops in a readying rage of war and what for? To protect a division, in the hope of a unifying whole. Language can never deliver this goal, in king logos' realm; it ceases to exist; if it doesn't come complete with an accomplice.

The Sculptor speaks the language of form, in this realm; the whole is the norm, The form speaks a thousand words; in simultaneous harmonious bursts; of poetry; that can cause ones capillaries to explode into a thousand pieces, one for each word of form's, language bursts. The beauty can be likened to musical notes inducing a tear of wonderment; to roll in slow motion, down your blood flushed face. A sense of beauty captured or created by a loving hand. An unexplained flow, that fixates an eye in a semi permanent gaze, awe struck and truly amazed. Polite postures and cheeky curves, sorrowed faces and ones full of glee, this is the language, I can see. The innocence of sleep; the dignity of choice; the power to grow beyond mere existence.

Form, that peasantry queen: I love her language and I create her dream. She begs me to let go; of all that I know, saying things like: "it's all in the flow." So I take her heed and make good speed in leaving king logos' land. I know I'll never find her there, never taste her sweet mysterious charms; her hope inside a gated Kingdom. Become the bird my Prince, she beckoned my call; fly to me on wings of love and faith; in a fragile humanity; outside of a fabled reality, switch from the mind of polarity; to encompass her land with clarity.

Consciousness awakening, free from restraints; but tempered by good will. There you will find me in a land, that speaks a language; that lay deep in my heart. I do my best with words, to shine a torch on this place, but even in form, there has to be space. Oh my wonder, at a glimpse of her; for just one fleeting moment; that seemed to last; for all of time; present and past. The signs are there and all around, but experience is the beast to tame, its hard to explain. It's in the moment, then its gone; replaced by another, perpetually.


Below is one of my sculpture videos; enjoy.