monster in the machine

Balanced to peer into the one eye vortex open to all the possibilities alive in the furnace of the universe that burns like life blood flows.


Realized as the integration of three mediums into one image of art.


Collected as objects directing attention to the selection of elements to keep the circle of vision going.


Understated like a path leading into the distance has to say nothing to explain which direction to go, inside.


Hiding in the sky is the starfield pattern that coincides with an individual 'eye' and communicates directly to the mind whether the voice came from the creek or not.


Finding the way back to ohm is simple when the ends of the ties bearing the train of thought speak and say don't ask why, just do.


Ever elusive and yet such a clear indication of continuance upon not along a path as he sat in the moment with the elephant who said, remember to never forget.


Fill in the missing spaces, swallowed by a one eyed perspective on a flat world that stepped aside from the grid structure of predictability to present the symbolic inadequacy to complete the picture.


The monster in the machine sees faces walking by and catches their eyes to invoke the spirit of fear of things that leer with long tentacles.

face of the wind

Defined as delicate, colour has a way of adapting to texture.


Strong yellow sunlight beams as rays and the brilliant flowers find a way to honour their gods


Caught in the updraft rising along the hillside the ever elusive air as wind appears and disappears as leaves turn to shades of sound, alive for a moment.


There is a famous Henri Cartier Bresson photograph of a man jumping a puddle. It defines the decisive moment. This is unintentionally reminiscent of it. He was trying to get out of the frame. I only took the photo because it told me to.


Laughing like prankster children who appear as cartoon dogs barking and giggling to see such glee.


Left to manifest through inspiration and a little bit of balance, the double eyes of galaxy peer and disappear.


Can you find eye in the sliver of a creek run dry from the heat of summer where the water turns the stone toward the I looking in.

---

Bresson's Photo

dinosaurs in chains

Like a million red trumpets about to declare their brilliance, without a sound a flower speaks with authority.


Behind the brilliant display of invitation the source of the colour blends with the sunlight.


Dinosaurs in chains like symbols of things now past, as the mass appeal of the monster stands the test of time.


Arched like eyebrows from the sudden realization that all manifestation of individual parts are just distorted reflections of an even more complex whole made identifiable through the naming of its parts.


Some faces are obvious and others, well ... they abide on the other side of this for duality dictates balance.


Into each tiny little piece a bit of light must fall to designate a pattern for the grid that holds it all in place while separating the space.

circles of time

By chance the background filled with a purple colour perfect as contrast to an orange burst of sun reflected.


When you see behind the obvious, the various forms of creatures manifest as shadow dance.


Plastic faces molded the same like twins turned away to see the plastic faces that fit the mold for fences form the other side.


Vantage point impossible to define when the random selection of an upside down view converges on a collection of texture only imagined.


Like connections to dots imply lines to follow between empty circles, the games the eyes play occupy the mind with the subject missing but still etched by time.


Shadowed to imply dimension the suspension of two opposite circles within a rectangular frame is all a matter of balance.


And in the every day we see the changes shadows make when they choose to dance in the arc of a sprinkler watering the wall where the tree places a different manifestation of the same hand day after day like shadow puppets explain the workings of the whole sun revolution perception of perpetuation.

the sound the lines make

As flight is aerodynamically inclined so to the lines of colour simulating an explosion of wings to the sky.


A gnarled tree lends a branch to a dove in communication with an angel rising from the folds of a fallen feather.


Anticipation predicts a concentric continuance of the pattern ever outward just as seen before the stone fell from the hand artist playing medium games.


Lines leading off to nowhere resist the temptation to follow the road to its logical conclusion.


If the sound of silence is empty there must be no other sound to vibrate without making noise like lines pulsate when concentration shifts to the concept of something without nothing.

round about four twenty

There is such a thing as overkill even where flowers are concerned. I like the swan and the flags!


I don't usually photograph these because they are so abundant and I tire of their design after awhile. I don't think this shade of red is very common though.


Stars and sprinkles isolated by pastel purple to remind royalty it's all a matter of perspective.


Eyes like fingers reach within a concentric mandala pattern to experience without interpretation of touch.


Back before there was a defined process for accessing information there was a foreground back split that didn't even exist and the purity of vision was apparent.


Caught by the temptation to form shapes into another subtle reminder of inbred pattern like the encircled piece of rock focused as an eye.


Some things speak for themselves and others need a common plea of desperation to juxtapose meaning with a frame.

the shape of time

Mathematical patterns within the spiral design nature takes when left to its own device reveal the face of any god would have to be painted by the numbers.


Which came first, the sun or the flower.


A strange colour indeed. It is not exactly as seen but it's very close. It really is a colour of flower I have not seen before.


The place for each designated shape seems to fall into a space according to a master plan of design that never sees random as an arbitrary placement of objects.


In order to define the rigid concept of time always ticking ever moving forward the moment though measured remains forever elusive as it goes as fast as it comes.


Like two sides of the same creek when framed within a defining boundary line exemplify the inner workings of a mind that can only conceive itself through dualistic concepts always in compare as dark and light continue to battle for dominance.


In case there was ever any doubt about who rules the world.

something in the air

Petals of pure texture patterned into a round surround of colour.


Caught by colour and the way the sun makes a shape in a flower.


It's the pattern drawn by the red as background that frees the mind to interpret objectively.


Central circle of revolution explains the timed interval necessary to make motion into a pattern perfectly structured to be a template of the sublime.


They are everywhere if you really look to find that eyes are but windows so imagination can see.


Drawn into the segmentation, focus on individuality is lost in the perfect distortion of the parts that make up the whole.


There has been a subtle haze in the sky that almost makes it seem like it's not hot out. It is.


All the smoke makes for some interesting colours.


Shifted through particles distorting perception movement within water expresses light as muted reflection across waves.


It's really too bad, being of Scottish descent and all, that the bagpipe makes such an awful sound. The original intention was as a weapon I do believe, and what better way to scare away your enemies. The local Kilties, practice beneath the bridge. The acoustics do something for them. However it can provide a most annoying background to an otherwise nice evening. Ryder insisted on seeing them in action but I don't think he was impressed with the noise. I like the photo though. The two open trunks and the space between the pipers.