Mother Id – Page 6

Sep 21

Damnant Quod Non Intelligunt (Video)

By WT_Rozar Home, Video

Damnant Quod Non Intelligent

In shadows cast by the unlit corridors of knowing, They condemn what slips through fingers of comprehension, Words entwined in vines of uncertainty, Damnant Quod non intelligunt, the silent chant.
A labyrinth of misunderstood whispers, Confinement in the narrow alleys of judgment, Echoes reverberate in chambers of ignorance, The disoriented stumble on uneven ground.
Disaffection blooms in the garden of misapprehension, Petals of understanding fall, unclaimed, Faces etched with the weight of unspoken judgments, A disquieting tapestry woven with threads of conjecture.
Locked in the dungeon of shallow understanding, Truth stands as a specter, veiled and obscured, While minds strain against invisible tethers, Condemning the unfamiliar to the prison of dismissal.
In this landscape of fractured cognizance, They condemn the foreign, the uncharted, Yet beneath the surface of their certitudes, A sea of undiscovered worlds ebbs and flows.
Damnant Quod non intelligunt, a refrain of caution, For in the realm of the unknown lies the genesis, Of compassion untold, of bridges unbuilt, Where understanding might yet unfurl its wings.

Nov 24

Love0

Crystal in Congregation of Potato People

By WT_Rozar Home, Rabbit Holes, Surrealism and Psychedelia

Crystal-church-congregation-of-potato-people

Crystal in Congregation of Potato People. Model: Crystal A

Church of the Potato People

In the Church of the Tuber, where spuds convene,

A congregation of potato people, a sight unseen.

Their eyes, like russet orbs, fixed on the sacred ground,

As they gather in reverence, in silence profound.

Starch-filled hearts beat in unison, a tater’s devotion,

In pews of mashed delight, a tuberous emotion.

The pulpit adorned with skins, a priestly spud ascends,

Preaching the gospel of the harvest, where the potato life transcends.

But amid the devout, a stranger unknown,

A beauty in disguise, a presence all her own.

She, an outsider, a radiant yam,

In the sea of potatoes, a singular glam.

Her skin, a golden hue, not of earthly soil,

A sweet fragrance of difference, a celestial foil.

Yet, she hides among them, a secret delight,

In the congregation’s eyes, a clandestine light.

The potato people, unaware of her grace,

Continue their worship in the starchy space.

But the outsider listens, absorbing their prayer,

In the silence of tubers, a connection rare.

As the sermon concludes, and the congregation disbands,

The outsider reveals herself, a rose in the lands.

The potatoes, astonished, yet welcoming still,

In this diverse church, love trumps the thrill.

For in the Church of the Tuber, diversity blooms,

In the richness of differences, unity looms.

Potato people and yams, together they stand,

In the spud-filled sanctuary, hand in hand.

Jun 23

Love0

River Nymphs (94)

By WT_Rozar Home

River Nymphs. Models: Kay Ace, Olinka Lickova

Mar 30

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Squid Throne – Olinka Lickova…

By WT_Rozar Home, Surrealism and Psychedelia

Honestly, I cannot say what the inspiration for this was, or what it is, or what it’s supposed to mean, or even why it should exist. Almost none of my work starts out as a concept, an idea taking form in the realm of words or intended meaning or purpose. This, like so much of my work, just springs forth my subconscious, much like a dream. One of my goals with Mother Id is to practice tapping into the wellspring of creative energy that lies beneath our conscious rational mind. Art does not have to make sense. It just is–like the universe. The only meanings are those we create. When I create some art, it’s usually only after its creation that I contemplate it and find meaning–meaning for myself that is; it might have different meaning for someone else, or no meaning at all. Maybe it serves as a visual metaphor for something and illuminates that something for us in a way that we did not otherwise see. Or maybe it evokes a feeling that we might not otherwise feel. To me, encountering art like this is like getting plopped down in some alien world. And though we may have questions and seek explanations, there are no manuals or teachers to provide answers. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this freaky, what-the-fuck-is-it, image, and I am sorry I cannot provide more insight about what it is and what it means. If I think of something I will let you know.

Mar 15

Love0

Outgrowing the Biosphere – Destiny…

By WT_Rozar Home

Destiny mindafloon_bell_jar_with_a_biosphere_inside_sitting_on_a_wooden_ba776a48-923f-4eb6-a634-c96f857d3a78

We grow like snakes, shedding layers of skin that we leave behind in dried-out, lifeless husks as we get larger and larger–only these skins take on many forms in many dimensions: the cradle, the playpen, school, ignorance, fears, home, church, friends, belief systems, teams, clubs, tribes, self-image, etc.; and until we shed these once-protective, now-restrictive layers, we are confined in virtual jars that are usually transparent enough to see at least some of what is outside but prevents us from exploring all that is beyond the glass walls of whatever manifestations of super-ego we find ourselves trapped behind.

Dec 31

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Titan Moonscape – Lethe

By WT_Rozar Home

Dec 15

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Chandra Loft Nude

By WT_Rozar Home

Nov 18

Love0

Mira – Jungle Beauty (9)

By WT_Rozar Home

Jungle Beauty. Model: Mira

Mira of the Jungle

In the heart of emerald canopies, Where sunlight filters through verdant tapestries, There emerges Mira, a jungle nymph, Grace adorned in the rhythm of leaves.
Her silhouette, a dance of shadows, Amongst ancient trees, where secrets linger, A symphony of nature, she orchestrates, In the wild, Mira is the untamed singer.
Tresses entwined with vines, Her eyes, reflections of the moonlit night, A river’s whisper echoes in her laughter, Mira, the enchantress, bathed in twilight.
Skin kissed by the sun’s golden ardor, Her footsteps, a delicate rustle in the undergrowth, A panther’s gaze mirrors in her stare, Mira, the epitome of untamed growth.
She breathes the fragrance of blossoms, Wears the hues of butterflies in flight, Mira, a canvas painted by the wilderness, A masterpiece framed by the fading light.
In the heart of the jungle’s embrace, Mira, the beautiful, weaves her own grace, A symphony of life, a testament to nature’s art, In her presence, the jungle whispers its heart.

Dec 26

Love0

Dark Forest Witch – Eva

By WT_Rozar Home

Dark Forest Witch. Model: Eva

May 20

Love1

Hold On While I Fix Your Head

By WT_Rozar Home

Hold On While I Fix Your Head. Actually, heads were, in fact fixed a little on this shoot. Several days of close bonding and sharing put us all a little more right. Model: Ava May, Jemstarlight Moon

Apr 04

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Drugstore Girls (4)

By WT_Rozar Home

Soda Fountain Girls - Olinka Seraphina Lior

Drugstore Girls. 1950s style soda fountain fantasies. Models: Rachel Lilly, Violet, Lior Allay, Lareina Tay, Olinka Lickova, Jemstarlight Moon, Chandra Hall, jenn michelle, crystal nicole