"Sing the World into Being" The concept of this poster came from my philosophical translation of the biblical creation account:
"What is consciousness? Godsight. Here’s the secret of mythology. Each story is soul-shaping metaphor, and Genesis is no exception. The creation story is true, of course. True if it can shape the shadows of this moment (historical happenings are not religious, anyway— history can save no one but the dead).
Let us draw Genesis into the Now, restoring primitive sight. Your perception is the Elohim (gods, plural). As your sight ranges over the earth, it translates the formless void of light and particles into the feasible forms of reality. Ontological wilderness transforms into lush perceptual garden. Bush-dotted landscapes squall out from the womb of watery chaos; mountains peak high with the touch of your sight. The whole world is re-made in your image, your consciousness crammed into each being. Breathing life into the barren dust of the noumena, you re-write Genesis with each blink of your eyes.
Through your perception, time also awakens. Dividing darkness into night and light into day. Seasons crafted by your color-stained hands, crushed grass enfulling timeless air. Snow-scent and heat mirage entwine in Now’s transparent sphere. You are even now creating causality and succession from the blinding simultaneity of brute matter. A strange wholeness hollows reality: time is nothing but a tool of intelligibility.
But perhaps you knew this already. Some say grief is a teacher of magical thinking. But there is nothing more magical than fundamental reality, what lies beneath space, time, causality. A whiff of perfume can send her slamming back into you. A song on the radio drives you to the roadside to weep. So clear is his presence. So strong her essence. Yes, you already know that no one can go anywhere, because there is nowhere but here.
But you know as well that ordinary thinking is far from magical. The cruelty of classical physics, the rigidity of time. A thick veil of mental concepts tears our dead from consciousness. In these moments: sink into their absence until the absence speaks. Absence is the container of presence."
 
.: 175 gsm fine art paper
.: Matte finish
.: For indoor use