(Bĕn∙tӛn)

Things that are round.

2011-12-10T10:22:00.001-05:00

Just a Pansy

2011-11-25T16:32:00.001-05:00

More Self-Portraiture

2011-11-10T14:22:00.000-05:00

Brendon Urie -- Panic! at the Disco -- The National, Richmond, Va -- Oct. 26th 2011

2011-10-27T16:59:00.003-04:00

From the beginning of the second song of the set, But It's Better If You Do, this is the only photo I managed to get amongst the violent throng of rabid fangirls. All three acts (Foxy Shazam, Patrick Stump, and Panic! at the Disco) did a phenomenal job. I look forward to the Halloween concert. Hopefully, I'll get a few more shots, now that I know what to expect. EDIT: Unfortunately, I left my camera behind for the Halloween show, but I must admit, "Sexy Jesus" on vocals with a scotch pounding, pants-less Ron Burgundy on drums made for an interesting and supremely entertaining performance.

some candid shots.

2011-02-14T19:26:00.001-05:00

Contrasting Self Portraits

2011-01-30T22:47:00.001-05:00

My trip to Detroit

2010-11-15T01:20:00.001-05:00

This Halloween, I've gone with a mime costume.

2010-10-31T01:23:00.001-04:00

Stencilicious

2010-09-24T01:51:00.001-04:00

I thought this project was lost to time immemorial.

Castor Seeds: Toxic yet beautiful.

2010-09-24T01:00:00.001-04:00

More random favorites.

2010-07-25T19:37:00.001-04:00

Assorted Self-Portraits

2010-07-25T19:16:00.003-04:00

College Creek

2010-07-18T21:49:00.005-04:00

Opposition: The Marsh

2010-07-09T23:56:00.009-04:00

December 25, 2008:
I trudged out into the marsh to take photographs between ten and eleven o'clock in the morning.

July 9, 2010:
I walked to the end of the pier that had been built out into the marsh and photographed the same vistas at dusk, though from an admittedly different and less hazardous vantage point.

The bank on the lefthand side of the winter image is in the midground of the summer image.

Books that have helped shape my view of reality

2010-04-16T01:17:00.007-04:00

For demonstrating the effects of outsiders upon cloistered off societies, stressing the importance and subtleties of language, and providing one means of perceiving an infinite universe, Rand and Robyn Miller's Myst trilogy

Myst: The Book of Atrus
Myst: The Book of Ti'ana
Myst: The Book of D'ni

For provoking deeper thoughts as to the nature of my own soul, providing an alternate means of perceiving the concept of infinite possibilities, and sowing the seed of thought that everything is interconnected, Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy

The Golden Compass
The Subtle Knife
The Amber Spyglass

For using a realistic and historical setting to describe the concept of the multiverse theory, Michael Crichton's novel Timeline

For providing insight into the core beliefs that founded Buddhism and exist within countless other old religions, Hermann Hesse's novel Siddhartha

And finally, for giving me countless hours of entertainment time and time again, constantly provoking deeper thought, occasionally stretching the English language to its limits, and being outrageously and completely necessarily self-referential, Douglas Adams's The Hitchhiker's Trilogy

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
The Restaurant at the End of the Universe
Life, the Universe, and Everything
So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish
Mostly Harmless

Tiny Horse

2010-03-25T21:30:00.004-04:00

Whilst in the forest

2009-12-28T00:21:00.001-05:00

I stumbled across this neat little composition left for me by a squirrel.

Photoshoot today - this was my favorite.

2009-12-28T00:16:00.002-05:00

Tortuga.

2009-12-20T23:39:00.003-05:00

I encountered this fellow crossing the unnecessarily wide main road of my neighborhood. After documenting him, I promptly moved him to the side to which he seemed to be heading. Flat turtle would be a bad thing.

Various portraiture.

2009-12-20T21:03:00.011-05:00

Stills from the making of the VCUarts student film 'Alice.' (2007)

2009-12-19T17:32:00.006-05:00

Bridge: Physics and Hope.

2009-12-19T17:21:00.006-05:00

This piece is constructed of nothing but 15 feet of 2x4 and copious amounts of jute twine. As the subtitle suggests, it's held together by physics and hope, or so I have jokingly asserted time and time again. The two towers --two and three feet tall respectively-- are made up of finger joints. The bridge's span is roughly six feet; the overall length is roughly eight and a half feet.

Panel.

2009-12-19T17:15:00.006-05:00

This piece was done as an assignment in one of my studio courses at Virginia Commonwealth University. The assignment was to construct a panel two foot square, and to make a composition (having no dominant focal point) over a span of no fewer than 15 hours. This was my result, and I was very happy with it.

The Rainy Day: An Artbook

2009-12-19T16:57:00.007-05:00

a few favorite photographs.

2009-12-19T01:22:00.005-05:00

Land of the Dead: A prose poem of 100 different words

2009-12-19T00:45:00.006-05:00

Cool breezes blow. October night skies, often cloud laden, stand empty. Fallen leaves that repose strewn across fragmented cobblestone paths glint in moonlight after sporadic mid-day rains. Rusted iron gates hang open, creaking slightly with each brisk gust of wind. Listening carefully, leafy rustlings arise as squirrels, preparing for cold months ahead, disturb quiet sylvan tranquility. Luna, great and pale-faced, stands watch over what hallowed land stretches beyond the ancient portal. A vast, glade-spanning graveyard silently endures passing centuries. Countless departed slowly become dust beneath their aged markers. Gravestones lie undisturbed among unkempt grass. Stoically, two ravens perch nearby.

Catharsis: The Elusive Om.

2009-12-18T23:43:00.009-05:00

It seems to be a norm as of late that I be ostracized, either by peers or superiors. Why is it that, when I feel out of touch with myself, I am forced to be out of touch with the universe? Why do the Fates so cruelly manipulate my destiny? Am I amusing to them due to my awareness of their presence, or do they play these games with everyone on some more subtle level? I feel like a marionette, unable to move through the world of my own free will without having already been thwarted by some maniacal puppeteer. My life's annoyances all seem to be predetermined and obnoxiously shrouded from my view.

Now, more than ever, I long for the camaraderie I felt just a few years ago. Despite absences of certain physical symbols of this unity, the spirit is still alive deep down in each of my fellows, much to the chagrin of some. Hopefully a new sense of such togetherness will emanate from the darkness of the unknown, forcing my feelings of isolation to abate.

As I have said so many times in the past, I sometimes fear that happiness is just an illusion. The only evidence to contradict this fact lies in that I have felt pure elation. it is the most calming, un-inhibiting sensation in the spectrum of human emotion. I long to feel that way again; I long for my life to escape this world of the mundane, to break from the shackles of the ordinary to which it has become so complacent. Most of all, I want to be able to move past all my mistakes in love.
Love is pure and innocent, but heartbreak is an unbearable burden, thrust painfully into my world by those three hags who despise me so, as they pull me this way and that, denying me any rest. It makes me wonder, though; how sincerely can I ever love another, when I still cling to a love unrequited?

The essence of it is that I am a fool dependent upon human contact. In the isolation I feel, I am desperate for attention, whether from my friends, a new love, or someone as yet unknown to me. I am, in a nutshell, despondent. I long to hear the Om. That calm unification of the universe beckons me, and despite its elusiveness, I strive, not perhaps for Nirvana, but at least for tranquility.

An Introduction.

2009-12-18T20:46:00.008-05:00

I'm JB. I love language. I can write something short, poetic, and somewhat powerful with relative ease when the mood strikes me, but, more often than not, it trails off in no time at all. I cannot, despite preconceptions of plot and development, carry a narrative forward without it becoming incredibly mundane or falling into a tangent. This is how I write. This is how I think. I have an idea, and move to follow through, but about mid-swing, I get distracted and change paths altogether, only for something almost totally irrelevant to be shifted into the main focus. This explains my love for certain authors, Douglas Adams in particular. He wrote in this very way. To make matters more severe, this cannot be solved by simply plotting out a specific concept, because I have always detested what educators call prewriting for being too inhibiting. I write most powerfully when I am just stricken with an urge to write, and if I were to ever prewrite at these times, I’d surely forget what had inspired me somewhere a long word association process.

I think in written English to a degree. When I hear a word, I often visualize it in my head. This visual affinity I have for words in conjunction with the awkward catalogue system my brain employs, allows for the most convoluted cross-references imaginable. Most people question the relevance of the things I say when inspired to change a topic of conversation, but that's because I naturally jump two or three steps beyond an immediate association. This can cause my writing to seem disjointed on some level, just as one could probably deduce from this one piece. My writings, my thought processes. They all go through elaborate metamorphoses.

Metamorphoses. I do love that word, in all its connotations. It is so much more organic and meaningful than most abstract nouns. It is plural by nature and denotes an undefined number of incalculable changes. It ebbs and flows. It branches, flowers, and produces ideas so very subtle and simultaneously thought provoking. It inspires personal thoughts and memories of a time when I was first discovering my artistic fervor. It recalls the simpler times of long past, while looking to the more complex and unpredictable future. It describes our transient universe, and ourselves. Its very meaning, in reference to one's own life is a juxtaposition. I often feel as though I haven't changed in my life, but compared to the tiniest universal tweaks and changes, I have, whereas compared to the changes this world has seen, perhaps I couldn't be more right.