Imagination Bones
A Co-Curator Reflects on the Cross Atlantic Creativity Congress, April 2022, Salzburg, Austria
Read the Congress Proceedings
we were once a boat somewhere seeking water symbols a wave of embodied otherness ripped us all apart bombed elation fell on a lonely planet as mycelium ghosts ciphering beneath belonging notions creativity raised us through mountain sand reaching to touch each other again small green explosions wrenching toward a fringe fringes always remind my heart of places where people learn to sing curiosity songs i've noticed that people sing loudest (from deep in their bones) when forbidden to speak (of hope, audacity, or memory) i saw an annie leibovitz photo one time mickhail baryshnikov’s feet and keith richard’s hands occupying the liminal space of a page, together together, binding past and future to freedom in that moment, i fell in love with the gnarled and knotted evidence of experience of artmaking visualized as biological data (so beautiful the question it framed, i cried) at our best, our art and science distort the smoke of modern life to bring that which is dead home again to live distorted smoke, sounds vaguely like a heard of cats smells of dirt and melons just beyond peak ripeness feels joy in the tension between being and becoming we artists and scientists are not black coated priests reminiscing of anticipated apples we are not elected voices politicizing elitist atmospheres we excite the conceptual errors hidden in estimations of being human we climb up to see sky with our own eyes what did you speak of with the wind steepled peoples? did they remind you that you are stardust? is that how you will take flight? when our umbilical cords untether we curious creatures learn to lift again rootless fingers pressing and vibing relocating muscle memories with infinite possibilities restored. (our instinct to know the unknowable) tending to the secret sound of wind we listen again (like we did when ancient electricity spoke unreconciled imagination into bone) in that memory we become a boat somewhere floating in those invisible spaces between earth and noise where freedom with unsnatched joy remembers how to climb mountains and why it once set sail “touch my spine” one says to the others “my belly remembers the way to go home”
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Theo Edmonds, Culture Futurist® & Founder, Creativity America | Bridging Creative Industries and Brain Science with Future of Work & Wondervation®
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