Jody Elliott Ravenant Rock

Being creatures of custom; beasts of composite elements, we play with life’s patterns; our goal is anthropomorphic alchemy. Digging deep into the flesh of our glorious host, we unearth our stone ancestors; facilitators in our flights of fancy, to honour them as enhanced visitors from the darkened hush of their chronic womb-tombs. These remnants of a bygone age ; future golems of a vast global boom, have function breathed into them, ground down, reconstituted & customised as they are for a precise, predetermined future. We forge these stock-still troglodytes as akashic sentinels; pillars of our petty earth-play; kids in sandpits moulding marvellous monstrosities of castles.

We define ourselves through nature’s wares, the buildings we erect as scar tissue on the very face of Gaia, picked to bleed by too many carbon apes compelled with unravelling the seams of their great mother, our numbers now lacking in & spoiled by the surface provisions offered up to us. The things of wood & grass have been superseded by our desire to master the toughness of those hidden elements beneath our feet; we’re too brittle for our own long-peaked ‘brilliance’, too weak for our runaway expansion. We have learned, albeit on a superficial level, that one must laboriously dig deep to discover sublime quality, to the skeleton of mother Earth & draw from her relative steadfast immortality. We bruise the land for this; irritate the dermis of our sweet & selfless matriarch like a rash for it; caustic, disharmonious and yet transitory. Time has time yet to level the playing field, as we all must pass on through this woven quilt work of crooked consensus reality; from dust back to dust. Age will yet weather our meager drives & our quirky presence spans nought but a blink of a crows eye when compared to this Goddess sphere.

Layering ambition upon ambition we scrape the sky like children trying to peel the stars off their staggering retro-black canvass as though they were stickers on a ceiling. Surrounded by ergonomic ogres engineered to fit, to cater to its makers in dignified silence, we seldom pay respect to the set sprawl in considered sequence & the vigil they keep over us; their manic architects. What purpose shall they serve when no-one remains for them to watch over? Their unmistakable geometry will be the single tell to indicate that sentience once grappled with intelligent design & won. Our stone soldiers will boast our resourcefulness; we were exemplary & were paying attention to the nature of our ever-giving host. And by observing natures patterns we have come to understand trace elements of our own, for they are one & the same.

We co-joined with the word harmony of the great mysteries, we flirted with recognition, imbuing our environment with a mortal reflection as we rose ever higher to grasp the source of those mysteries, on great towers of concrete & steel. And in turn we left in our wonderfully warped wake a stamp of our achievements that should last little longer than our own frail selves. From the first cave painting to the latest post-modern corporate headquarters, we are here as we have been here. And when these old high-risers stand limp in their concrete crutches; the windows to their souls shot, frail as old papa time himself & battered as they get by neglect or abuse, something divine above & beyond us hopefully may take note that we attempted to heal our fabrications just as we attempt to heal ourselves.

Jody Elliott
Ravenant Rock
Landscape Stories, 2011

© Jody Elliott – 2011