#Surreal Metamorphosis

[zegalba]

Lina Hoss in “Surreal Metamorphosis” (2016) photography: elizaveta porodina

[aleksandra-czudzak]

Aleksandra Czudżak

[glitchgloop]

Congratulations on your metamorphosis! You now have new and different flesh.

[knotty-et-al]

Another surreal soup - WIP [2024/04/07]

There is a melt clock with clock hands that split and somehow stick stickily together. The split hour clock hands turn into the petals of a plant.

From these two petals two tadpoles drop down - one tadpole is older/more evolved than the other tadpole.

The split minute clock hands turn into very thin petals/straws. The tadpoles are falling down the hour-clock-hands- petals onto the minute-clock-hands- straws, sliding down into the melt clock. The melt clock has root-like structures on its dial.

The plant is blossoming with a blossom that is a bit similar to that of an orchid. The orchid-like blossom has a tiny chamber in the shape of half a walnut. A tiny frog is sitting in that tiny chamber, looking out and having large eyes. The frog looks relaxed. The frog's hands slightly hang down from the blossom.

[tygerland]

Zdzisław Beksiński Untitled, 1981.

[vaxolang]

Woman Metamorphosis

acrylic painting on canvas

size 80x60 cm

[glimmeringghost]

[talefoundryshow]

NEW VIDEO!

"Would you still love me if I was a giant insect?" — Franz Kafka

[t4inted4ngel]

“I was ashamed of myself when I realized life was a costume party; and I attended with my real face.”

— Franz Kafka

[emdoug]

‘Metamorphosis’

Water color

Sept. 2023

[thirstycrab]

This is a hybrid of an octopus and a stump, which I drew as part of the series of works on the topic of Metamorphosis.

I'm actually kind of proud of this piece, because the shapes look cool and I almost didn't use any references. (Not saying that references are bad, but I personally have been struggling with copying photo references for a looong time and I'm glad I can come up with something original now)

[stasimorphosis]

How does it feel to be a kafkaesque soul stuck in a body of a teenage girl? 🪲🎀

[pmamtraveller]

THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE LOVERS (1938) by ANDRÉ MASSON

MASSON mixes life and death in his swirling, intertwined, erotic images. You can make out two big figures, but they both have male and female parts on them.

The female figure is sitting on the right side, gutted, with a big vagina that looks like a shell. She's got her arm draped over a phallic trunk, and she's leaning back with a big apple in her mouth. It's a reference to the story of ADAM and EVE and how it affects the beginning of life and sex.

The male figure’s head is also tilted back as he touches the female’s “shell” (a vagina) in the act of sexual pleasure. A flower sprouts from the open mouth of the male figure, “like a vulva,” says scholar and curator CAROLYN LANCHNER; his genitals are thus central to the biological reproduction as "the entrance to life and the exit to death...the eternally recurring cycle."

From the combined muscles of these two individuals, a flower is born, which art historian and author MARTIN RIES interprets as the production of a fertilized egg: "if her internal organs evoke the germinal force of fertilized seeds, does the growing flower represent their progeny?"

The two figures have their torsos cut off, making them stand out from the rest of the life and regeneration symbols. RIES says this contrast shows how the natural world is changing all the time; as one of MASSON'S favorite philosophers, HERACLITUS, stated, "Out of life, comes death and out of death life...the stream of creation and dissolution never stops.

The piece is full of contrasts and inner conflicts between the extremes of negativity and positivity, and raises the question of whether human life is rational and intelligent or merely animalistic.

[knotty-et-al]

Metamorphestra of entangled states of a life's unfolding and reshaping process - shapeshifting of the shapeshifter

[2023/09/24]

[mateuscosme]

[helmort]

🔴 (FRIDAY TALE) 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑭𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒂 𝑭𝒂𝒄𝒆

Long ago, in a forsaken countryside, there dwelled a lizard who, with each passing day, would implore the sun, "Pray tell, why does the moon prance alone amidst the myriad stars, whilst you, in contrast, fail to waltz with the clouds and winds of the earth?"

In that same distant countryside, there resided a small black dog who, with every dawn, would beseech his tail, "Why dost thou sway when I am merry, yet flee when fear grips my soul?"

And long ago, within the confines of a solitary radio station nestled deep in the heart of Wyoming, there lingered a lone man whose daily broadcast fell upon deaf ears, for the cataclysm of the last nuclear war had laid waste to all inhabitants of the world. He, the sole remaining mortal amidst a vast expanse of scarlet sands, would grasp a handful of grains each day, relinquishing them to the radioactive winds, pondering, "Why do they not heed my words?" But lo, one day, a tuatara, an ancient desert lizard, offered a whisper of wisdom, "Have you ever truly listened to their silence?" Thus, the man descended into despair, his knife carving his flesh until his form dissolved into sinew and bone. The blazing sun of the desert bore witness as his body, consumed by flames, metamorphosed into a pallid orb of skeletal remains. After seven days, the orb cracked open like an egg, giving birth not to the man he once was, but to a new being, a butterfly fashioned from dreams, desires, and the unspoken yearnings of those who love in silence. As an asteroid obliterated the corpulent effigy of a matronly figure, the newfound creature radiated with renewed vigor, soaring above the scorched earth not in search of listeners, but in pursuit of the simple joys of existence.

Long ago, a lizard perished in a lonesome countryside.

Long ago, a dog met its end in a solitary countryside.