Ouroboros
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Sapelle wood, Gold Leaf and Mixed Media Height 19cm Base 31 x21cm |
Here lies the dread of the pointlessness of consumption as a means to exist in a cycle where nothing is gained and nothing is lost. We eat and we are eaten… when our time comes. And forever on, we are torn apart and scattered to the wind, to fly with it, till we become a part of it…again. To be breathed and subsumed and made flesh again. This system is closed dear. There aint no getting off this train.
For creatures such as ourselves that are heavy built on vanity and self-preservation the knowledge of our own cyclic futility can be as destructive as it could be constructive. It can cast us down to darkened depths where light is only glimpsed pinpoint-like through shattered thoughts and half browned leaves of autumn, much as we are all half browned too and ready to drop too.
For creatures such as ourselves that are heavy built on vanity and self-preservation the knowledge of our own cyclic futility can be as destructive as it could be constructive. It can cast us down to darkened depths where light is only glimpsed pinpoint-like through shattered thoughts and half browned leaves of autumn, much as we are all half browned too and ready to drop too.
