JJFBbennett

Artists who Stare Vignette There is a reckoning in the soul of every artist. It begins as a tremor, a flicker of light, almost imperceptible, yet relentless in hunger. That precise moment when the artist is alone, silhouetted against the radiance of an internal inferno and stares unflinchingly into their creative self. They dwell in the space between inspiration and doubt, bathed in the glow of possibilities and tormented by the fear of mediocrity. To exceed the ordinary, the artist knows, is both a blessing and a curse. Each touch, each word, each act of creation becomes a paradox: an offering to eternity but rooted in the fleeting frailty of the present. What if they fail? What if the light within, so achingly bright, burns them to ash rather than illuminating their path? Artists who Stare into their Creative Self The act of creation is no longer a choice; it has become a necessity. There is no turning back. Like a lone figure before the furnace of their own making, the artist surren...

  My Hidden Narrative Video My Hidden Narrative Poem This scratching.  This clawing. At the surface of meaning. Always searching.  Always seeking. A resonance. A connection. Fading.  Like whispers.  In the wind. Will they remember? The touch. The feel. The essence. Of me. Or just the echoes. Of what I built. What I made. What I said. A monument. To dust. The art.  The teaching.  The endless pursuit. Of knowledge. Of understanding. A desperate hope.  To leave a mark. Indelible.  Permanent. But the fear.  Always there. A shadow.  Lingering. Will they remember? The touch. The feel. The essence. Of me. Or just the echoes. Of what I built. What I made. What I said. A monument. To dust. This hunger. This burning. To be seen. To be known. Beyond the achievements.  Beyond the creations. To touch a soul. To leave a trace. Of who I am.  At the core. But the silence.  The vast indifference. Of the universe.  Stares back. An...

  Between Peaks and Valleys: A Journey Within Lyrics We march forward. We march forward. Each step stirs dust into the air—still, unmoving, heavy air. Our silhouettes stretch long, etched across twilight mountains. The sun—neither fully risen nor set—pauses, and hovers. A witness. A silent guardian. Beginnings and endings, both here and distant. Between peaks, between valleys, we walk. We move together, but alone. Each of us. Each step is ours, yet shared. No words, no destination. No destination is spoken aloud. We are suspended. Suspended in transit, where time unravels, where place dissolves, where movement lingers, without end. This space—this space between past and future— This is the place. This is the sacred space. Each step is an act of faith. Each step is a leap into the unknown. The mountain pulls at us—its shadow reaching, grasping, holding. But light pulls, too. Light on the horizon, a promise. A call we cannot ignore. The burden we carry is more than we thought. It is ...

  JJFBbennett Artist Statement JJFBbennett is a digital platform that showcases an artist's journey through creativity, innovation, and personal exploration. It is a journey in which we can all participate. JJFBbennett's art is an odyssey from the tangible world of studio art into the boundless universe of digital and virtual spaces. Under the handle JJFBbennett, the artist explores the intersections between technology, ancient architecture, and spiritual aspirations, creating a hive-like, translucent metaverse that branches into various technological dimensions.  JJFBbennett's work begins in physical spaces, capturing the essence of night, sleep, mood, emotion, and consciousness through series like "This Branch." JJFBbennett delves into the transformative power of darkness and light, using it as a metaphor for creativity and introspection. From there, the real transitions into the digital, where the art evolves into something more interactive, like in "JJFBb...

  A Romantic Celebration They sit under the dim, flickering candles and the glow of a dusk-soaked horizon. Their faces are drawn tight with the weight of unspoken truths. The city below sprawls like a labyrinth of enchanted uncertainties, its lights starting to blink like fractured stars as if taunting them with the chaos they’ve chosen to leave behind or perhaps walk into. Their glasses, half-empty or half-full depending on one’s disposition, quiver in their hands with every shallow sip. The man, his jacket glinting as though armoured against his hesitations, stares at the woman with a tender and probing gaze. But his eyes don’t rest entirely on her; they pierce through her, reaching toward a reflection of himself. She, wrapped in the blood-red softness of her dress, sits poised but restless. Her lips parted slightly, perhaps to say something, but the weight of their journey and the choice to abandon one life for another seals her words before they can escape.  It may be a su...

Skipping through Dystopia on way to Utopia A lone figure moves with an unsettling grace in the dim twilight of a decaying city, where the remnants of civilisation stand as silent witnesses to their demise. Each step taken amidst the desolation seems to mock the essence of existence as if moving forward is a futile rebellion against the oppressive weight of being. The air is thick with the stench of rust and decay, a tangible reminder of the absurdity that permeates this forsaken world. As the figure advances, the surrounding gloom intensifies, the shadows growing longer and more oppressive. The skeletal remains of the old world loom ominously, their presence a stark reminder of the inescapable reality of existence. Yet, amidst this suffocating despair, there is a fleeting, almost imperceptible shift where the oppressive darkness gives way to a horizon bathed in a cold, indifferent light. The figure pauses, gazing back at the path traversed, a journey marked by the relentless confrontat...