The Art & Mind of Empty Spaces

There are questionable things lying beyond the borders of an illustration or a photo. Ideas and possibilities can be lain around the edges but none of them can be raised and proclaimed as the definitive.

For illustrations there are dribbles of thoughts full of failed constructs, deceased colors and the grotesqueries of half formed notions. The borderlands of photography are predisposed for safer travel and will usually consist of systematic chairs, shoes, broken objects and modes of sex.

There is an art technique that joins these two that can breed disease in the mind as it brings you into unknowable depths and unsearchable heights. Empty space, containing nothing, holds the ability to contain everything the mind can coerce into peppered existence. The borderlands, and their endlessness, are willingly allowed to afflict pieces of work. Its purpose. To let your mind become diseased with the infinite.

Listen and Carry On

Space Oddity by David Bowie

Painting by Oscar Delmar

Photo by Kathryna Hancock

Photo by Vanessa Paxton

Photo by Paul Phung

Illustration by Raid71

Illustration by Matthew Hamilton Woodson

Photo by Rebecca Anne


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Categories: Art

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5 Comments on “The Art & Mind of Empty Spaces”

  1. 07.31.11 at 12:58 PM #

    “The borderlands, and their endlessness, are willingly allowed to afflict pieces of work. Its purpose. To let your mind become diseased with the infinite.”

    ‘Diseased’ with the infinite but perhaps, eventually, ‘freed’? Accepting our minuteness in the face of an infinite universe can be a terrifying prospect until we learn to discover our place within the infinite.

    I absolutely love the first picture. Who is it by? It speaks of Little Red Riding Hood (the older, unsanitised version of the fairytale) as she walks to her demise, the realisation of which is obscured, like the misty forest in the picture, and lies beyond the borders of her conscious awareness. She is subsequently re-born, as she is cut out of the belly of the deceptive wolf, reaching a new level of enlightenment. Like the story’s protagonist, we must all make the journey through suffering to the release that only comes from recognising and rejecting the false constructs of our own ego. Only then can we experience the freedom, rather than the fear, of the infinite.

    • 08.17.11 at 2:23 AM #

      It’s actually a photograph taken by 16-year old photographer Phillip Schumacher. Which seems appropriate considering the innocence required.

      Eventually we are cured by the disease itself. The infinite is the type of bacteria that crawls into the deep pockets of the brain. When it flairs up, it devours us up entirely with unfathomably black blankets. It petrifies us, similar to the bacteria of Fear, and drops us over darker waters. Our visits with the Infinite sickness last in short increments with sharp depths.

      Not all are up for the trials and tribulations that transpire in the story. I’m sure the protagonists who finish their story will remember hearing a wise mans voice on the winds, “We must all make the journey through suffering to the release that only comes from recognizing and rejecting the false constructs of our own ego.”

      Once Freedom With the Infinite has been acquired and brandished as a mindset, Fear becomes a deconstructable ideal.

      • 09.25.11 at 6:50 PM #

        Seriously, I need to sort out my WordPress settings or something, as I didn’t realise you’d replied to my comment. Thanks for getting back to me.

        The picture’s pretty impressive given Phillip’s age and there’s definitely a poetic innocence to it, which makes it more poignant.

        The “wise man”, of course, could turn out to be a wise woman. 😉

    • 09.22.11 at 8:24 PM #

      H.P. Lovecraft:

      “The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far.”

      • 09.25.11 at 7:16 PM #

        I love the fact that the world that is so vast to us is such a tiny little floating vessel and the tumult that we experience is merely a silent speck in space. And (if we bother to read of the great scientific findings of the last century) we discover that in the midst of the frenetic world we live in, we are actually travelling in slow motion, which is what creates the supposedly concrete entity, time. We might never be able to completely transcend our distortions of perception, routed as they are in our physical surroundings and bodies, but we can marvel at both the infinite and the inner world our minds create to navigate it. Then perhaps we can find the courage to (re)write our own story rather than have it written for us.

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