Member-only story
Guess the name of the Artist — a Treasure Hunt.
A man intervenes with a chisel — dares to take on the primal pre-history of a folded seabed.
An artist worthy of gold intentions, he shapes nature, bends it to his will and makes magnificence mindful.
Quietly, methodically, he abuts sand-coloured rocks — cut crisp and slotted snug, so that each supports and adds value to its neighbour.
Sentinels, these stone cocoons — brooding lightly before dark slag heaps of folded geology.
The gold man — worthy of his name, builds them where they will make most impact in terms of colour, form, weight and meaning –
And he does it again and again…
Three women go to seek
Go to find an answer.
Three women, two women, one woman and a map
Go to be enhance-ed.
They hike long up to a Sentinel, inverted.
Built inside a stone refuge, it presents as an orifice that they are invited to climb into, then emerge, born again.
Crafted in the dank, dark interior, the vagina/ pineal gland/Eye of Sauron
Feels like a Secret.
Smells like Waking Up.
