Ok so, I finally found a way to combine my obsessions with upsetting centaurs and 4-dimensional geometry, and his name is Horace. I will be taking questions now
PATREON | STORE
Al parecer nunca soy suficiente para nadie.
HR° artwork by blck-xcvi & hrapavastr
- design instagram: @blck.xcvi
Started the year off with a redo of the pseudo-legendary of the region.
A closed space in 2D is called a polygon, polyhedron in 3D, and polychoron in 4D. In math, calculations of multiple dimensions can be done with longer matrices; however, visualizing multiple dimensions can yield to very interesting observations. The tesseract is the 4D version of a cube, and even though it looks like a cube inside a larger cube, the tesseract is made up of 8 cubes with one of them wrapping itself over the entire shape.
Dracogon (Dragon/Psychic): Dracogons can shimmy themselves into tight spaces to avoid any predators, but they are slow at turning around. Dracogons often swim together, creating a wall of color that they themselves do not see at all.
Drachedron (Dragon/Psychic): Drachedrons hide inside a tough boxy exterior to scout their surroundings before changing their path of travel. Drachedrons can float directly up, down, left, right, forwards, or backwards, once they know where they want to go.
Drachoron (Dragon/Psychic): Drachorons use psychic energy to cover themselves with an additional layer then they are under attack. The webbing around Drachorons keep rising and falling as Dracorons can encase their whole bodies in the webbing.
Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry
Ai Weiwei, Grapes, 2011
Ai Weiwei, A Ton of Tea, 2007
Ai Weiwei, Kui Hua Zi (Sunflower Seeds), 2010-2011
The documentary, Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry, opens with a scene of cats and dogs milling around the artist’s home studio. There are forty cats here, Weiwei shares: just one of which will open doors. There is an individual in this collective whole, self-directed and determined, who will open doors, but never shut them.
And for Ai Weiwei the individual within the collective is central. Just as the individual hand is present in each small porcelain sunflower seed in Kui Hua Zi, and a suggestion of the unique body is represented by every empty seat in Grapes, a mass of twisted distortion, Weiwei himself may be seen as but one voice out of many currently living under communist Chinese rule. Though fragile, he has become empowered. His experiences with US democracy and the evolution of technology—cameras, blogs and the Twitter-sphere—has allowed Weiwei to develop a strong and singular voice. “Freedom is a pretty strange thing,” he says, “Once you’ve experienced it, it remains in your heart, and no one can take it away. Then, as an individual, you can be more powerful than a whole country.”
Ai Weiwei’s art is conceptual, often carried out by others. It is sometimes momentary—a crumbling Ming vase. Sometimes it seems to consist simply of life as it unfolds around him—a video of his Shanghai studio being demolished by government order suddenly transformed into its own time-durational performance. Ai fans binging on river crab—satirical commentary on China’s vision of a “harmonious society”—becomes yet one more way he seeks to open the door to free experience to those around him.
Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry, Directed by Alison Klayman, IFC Films, 2012.
Hyperbolic reflection group sculpture by Vladimir Bulatof
Grim Days° type art by blck-xcvi & hrapavastr
- design instagram: @blck.xcvi , @hrapavastr