Remove yourself from the destined,
They only mark what is important, what matters
You, my friend walk the Dark Lining,
burdened by the imagines of Rot, flicking across your mind.
No longer connected to form,
Seen only by the creaks hinting at moreWe walk down the lining,
Seen by the ever glowing red hue
We only look onward,
never turning back to consider what we once had
Don’t be fooled by the inner workings of the mind,
it’s entrapments of morality, destiny, sanity
you are but the hopeless, unworthy of such privileges
stay stuck in the Dark Lining, as you are not marked with destiny
Destiny is a wind, while you are a rock,
stuck to the road which never ends.
You are pained to never move from it,
never love, never laugh.
Emotion is a privilege which you shall never bear.
Too you, the ever wind of destiny is but a fleeting breeze,
brushing past your broken form.
You have no meaning to give, no purpose
but to be a pebble which lays a upon the Dark Lining
You deserve nothing but what you give,
the pain which you inflict upon yourself,
righteous in amount,
and given by what lays left.Never fool yourself into believing in more,
lest you disappoint yourself.
Stay upon this road you lay,
destined never to leave it’s dark lining
An orange orb hangs over a landscape likened to a rocky hill. Most was quiet, most was none. The city that once was, no longer hums the tunes of a bustling city. Its decayed gothic houses are now reminiscent of a towering mountain range. Most was quiet, most was none. Everything gleamed with a warm orange tinge. There was still hope; the vibrating breath of the town still shook through the city walls. Rubble tumbling around with each intake and ex-take. Hope was flowing through every fiber of the crumbling city and kept it from tumbling down into a pit of quiet and none. However, the hope was slipping away and the moment of sinking quiet was slowly pressing in around the city.As this moment of quiet crept in, darkness fell upon the desolate landscape, and the light of a self-hating god pierced down from the sky. A fickle form treaded its way down, walking upon invisible stairs that only existed because no one cared to understand it. The form cracks its body through the intricate pathways of a fallen god. Slicing through the thin cement skin lining the houses. The form bellows out in a tongue unknown to the commonalities of this world. Its horrific humming vibrating at levels never reached before this. It is the sound of celebration. It slides and expands further through the city, letting its bitterness drape down over the ground, transmuting all surfaces into its own. It wants a new form, a new place to be of its own. It is a virus, something that leeches onto the hard work of others and puppeteers it like a proud parent. The closer it seeps to the town’s center, the more erratic its motions become. Bones begin to protrude out of its shoulders, arching back behind it, pricked outwards in anticipation. The dark slosh encasing its form, slithers around its inhuman shape, slowly gaining a purple undertone and increasing in viscosity. The dark fluid slipping down its hands and legs, like a living robe. Its head holds faceless, the same molasses like matter writhing around the blank slate that is its face, until it begins to grow impatient. A hideous force pushing out a form through its blackened muck, a familiar shape to this land begins to form from what was unknown. The snout slithers out through the liquid, and we see the startings of a wolf's head appearing. Holding all the features of one, but yet interpreted through an alien framework, its appearance bearing off-settling features. Its newfound eyes begin to narrow on the city center, the heart, the brain and the soul. It was all there, the city was nearly at its knees, the god had almost crumbled. The form stumbled towards a green statue guarding the remaining rubble, decorated with the scars of a fallen warrior, its features torn away to leave it in a state of indescribable dread. Its lower head blown in, giving it the appearance of an unending scream.The fallen warrior knew that its final fate was upon him. The memory of who he was and what he stood for now to vanish, forever from time and space. The form entered the circular plaza, misshaped brick lining the ground. From above, it would look like a mutated version of mildew, soaking through the ground, making its way towards the center at rapid speed. The form screeches with unhinged excitement as it bashes its blackened form into the statue. Claiming the material as its own. Adding it to its unholy mass. What was left was a small mound of rubble that too, was slowly transmuting into its own. The Form was victorious, letting out a rapid succession of clicks to make such a thing apparent, slowly skulking around the spot that once held the statue. It was not finished here however; it could sense that its true prize was near, underneath its feet. It strode over to the center of the plaza, cutting open a deep wound into the city's rocky skin. Tearing out brick after brick until it appeared. The heart, a meaty pump of what kept the city alive. The form reached its spindly hands into the crevice, letting its black ooze drip into the hole. It pulled out the heart, tearing it from its place, and holding the still beating thing in its fragile hands, clenching its brittle fingers around it. The city bellowed in pain, the surviving surrounding structures crumbling with the force. However, the form stayed unmoved, its mind fixated on the prize. It screeched in another victorious scream, basking in the beauty of its victory, and what this now meant. The god that once resided here now was limp in its palm.The forms blackened wolf shaped head cracked open as another slipped out. The exit hole had an upwards curve which appeared as if it was a crooked smile. A familiar head begins to bulge out through the tear. The previous wolf shaped mask was peeled back like a snake skin hood, flicking to the shoulders of the form. It was preparing for the beginning, its body nearing readiness. Finally, the head of the fallen warrior made its way fully through. Its eyes as red as the blood spilling from the still beating heart. With this newfound interpretation, the form plunged the heart into its slimy sarcophagus of its body. Its rib cage sliding outwards from its center, to meet the still beating heart, pulling its back into the confines of its dark innards. It was gone, and the final wisps of a fallen titan drowned out by the inhuman screams of the victorious one.All that had to be done now was to become all. The form lifted both its arms to the land of clouds, letting its shape go limp. The last mumbles of a mad mind escaped its jagged teeth, as form prepares for its final task. Time went on, but nothing changed, the buildings stayed dilapidated and the rubble piles were still messy masses of unwanted rock. There was a calm stillness to everything, until the form made its move and dived deep into the crevice that laid before it. At that moment, all become something else. The black poison that encased the form’s body had now burst out into all directions, rapidly expanding outwards. It flowed through the veins of the city like a pathogen virus, infecting all that it made contact with, turning it into the form’s own. Its sickness blasting out of the sewers, and oozing out of the cracks, as the inhuman mess claimed more and more land. It didn’t take days to claim it all, it didn’t take hours; it only took four minutes for the form to consume the massive expanse of the crumbled city. Transmuting its walls and ground into its own.It had done it; all had fallen to its monstrous hand. The mould surrounding its shape rejoices with it. A collective hum started to emanate throughout the valley. It has claimed all. The form quenched the great orchestra performing around him, bringing all to a reflective silence. The form stood in a motionless dance of celebration, all had come together. From above, it would appear as if the place that once held the bustling city, had now concaved into a pit of unearthly black. As if a bit the night had fallen onto the city, white speckles winking at the sky as if an unknown inside joke was being told. The form grumbled with satisfaction, what remained on the head of the form began to speak. “All is quiet, all is none.” the form said with a quivering voice “May the form take shape”.
I want to thank everyone that came down to the opening night and everyone else who came to the subsequent Sunday morning viewings. Having spent so much personal time talking with each audience member over their interpretation of Dark Lining and the subsequent perspective which gave them that conclusion. I have really begun to value the physical aspect of live exhibitions, being able to connect with the audience in a one on one fashion is so much more rewarding than seeing a number on a screen, not saying that there isn’t value in that, but now that I have seen how in person art exhibits can affect people and allow for the ease of communication and discussion around the project, it’s honestly extremely humbling. This project started as a way to explore how different artist perspectives can shape the feeling, mood and conventions of an art piece, and how different eyes can see different things. Me and the other artists began the production process from four simple words, loss, wasted potential, longing and despair, and from that we took emotions we associated with those words and crafted it into something tangible, something linked to our individual journey. Within our own works you could see what images we saw when hearing those words, what emotional cords played when we thought about them in greater detail, everything had a singular connection to who we were as artists. But on top of that, the project took on a larger narrative, one of decent, decay, failure. I am not going to spoil your own interpretation of the project, but the whole project, I believe came together because of a shared struggle us as artists and just people in general have when it comes to pursuing their goals and fulfilling their ambition. I believe that Dark Lining captured that emotional state perfectly. And for that I wanna thank the great team that I worked with on this project, their names are linked below, along with Townsville City Council for their financial support for this project. Without this support, this project would not have been where it is at.
Dark Lining Event Recap
Dark Lining live showcase opened to the public on the 30th of october 2021, giving the team mix bag of emotions, for me having my peers, mentors and people I didn't even know looking over the work that kesheena, Coen, Charlie Kertlend,Tszar, Diffraction Collective and I had produced was really validating, but as you could guess was confronting. Putting the effort into producing something that I believe is meaningful and then putting that in front of someone who doesn’t have the same context or perspective is scary, cause what if they don’t get it, what if they don't see what you see, what if they hate it because of that. But doing this event and seeing and being able to talk to everyone about their perspectives, has shown me that it doesn't matter, because art is about the perspective that views it, and what comes out of the art when viewed in that light. Ultimately that is what Dark Lining as a project was about, for us as artists, I wanted it to be a way for us to experiment with how our individual perspectives shaped our own art and how our collaboration moved us towards making Dark Lining as a singular piece of art.