Where the Languages of Dreams Are Spoken

Dream-of-a-City-small

Change is the constant.  Entropy.  Atrophy.  Senescence.  If you like things the way they are – just wait.  This too shall pass.  The hardest part are the premises we take as constant when the solution of paradox confounds us.  The poles of relativity and quantum mechanics answer to a higher solution we have yet to discover.  In the meantime, they both erode in the proofs of the other.

 

small-Floating-Towers

Not so long ago, everywhere on our planet, human culture regularly ran a gamut from feast to famine.  For most of human history, famine kept our population well-checked.  The next generation’s mortal consequences depended on the slight combination of our human ability to manage the vicissitudes of Nature’s provenance.  We were not always successful.

 

small-When-God-Winks

So we innovated!  We built.  We re-imagined and envisioned.  We took the problems and if we could not turn them to our advantage, say, electromagnetism into combustion engines, we overcame them with inventions like refrigerators, freeze drying and canned foods.  Progress?  At least against famine.  The spectrum of familiarity can’t matter.

 

small-City-from-the-Country

And therein lies a small apology for abstraction.  Clarity may be over-rated; or it may shine from the abstract asymmetry of Gaudian architecture, the more organic, fluid, perhaps necessary way to solve issues of breaking the rules so they may evolve.  It is where the languages of dreams are spoken into the vacuum left by outdated innovations.

Without abstraction in thought, puzzles become unsolvable.  But, it seeps back in to the vacuum where intention lived.  And like a mirror, abstraction in art reflects us, or parts of us we like to solve.

Thank you for reading.

 

 

 

 

 

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