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There was once a generation blessed without the requirement of thinking. It was always an option,
but one that slowly ebbed out of the realm of necessity. As any muscle which isn’t exercisedcollectively
the culture slid into a rather happy complacency. Unaffected by the crux of being
bored or resolving dilemmas in their heads. Constant streams of entertainment flowed into and
through their pleasant minds.
Unfortunately, some professions were still reliant on the uncomfortable stretching of the mind.
Certain people were required to think in order to resolve problems. Jordan was of that lot, fully
aware of the temptation and repercussions of such an autonomous state. He was a consulting
professional -- in the business of solving problems. At this point, creative thinkers had to live by a
code:


1. You and your solution should be Aesthetically appealing
2. You should solve your problems with wit. Efficiently and cleverly
3. Gracefully address every requirement
4. It should be not only of the time but keep pace with the movement of it as well
5. It must sing to the client
6. You must master your trade as you would an instrument
7. Upon pain of Death, do not go a full day without an original thought
8. Rely on precedents, memories, and information to generate new ideas


Jordan used them more as guidelines, thought still a bit superstitious about number
seven. They did him well most of the time and he ended up with a happy medium of mostly
satisfied clients. Which is more or less, all he could ask for without empirical evidence of success.
For Jordan, creativity came in waves. Sometimes a movie would blow his mind and inspire him
to make a new world. Alternatively, he’d get stuck with a whole week at work of following strict
instructions for mundane designs. He’d see an amazing park on the way home. But that next
month he’d have to resolve which intersections needed new curb-cuts. And suddenly what used
to hit like a tsunami slowed down to a gentle lick. And as low-tide left him thirsty for a dose of
creativity - the day it happened.


While walking home, Jordan felt things around him slow down. He was hit like the waves never
did. This wasn’t pleasant or constructive. It hit like a truck. A mack truck to be precise. Our hero,
the pedestrian, was struck by a mindlessly operated vehicle, in a beautiful exhibit of parallel
circumstances. The divergent affects of the collision however, are much more pertinent to our
tale. As our hero-on-autopilot lay, out-like-a-light in his ambulance (and soon hospital) bed, his
equal-oppostie was up to his neck in thoughts about how to defend himself in court, what to tell
the officer, if he has the guts to talk to the family, who he will tell, what kind of job he can get after
this, how he’s going to live with himself. Fortunately for our brave cadet, the undertow swept him
away from the situation. He didn’t have to make a single decision, everything was neatly taken
care of for him, including the medically induced coma.


“Where-- is this?” He thought, not recently familiar with the concept of a blank canvas. It seemed
to go on for fathoms. Space seeping out past his peripheral vision and rendered without reference.
Reference- where was he immediately before- he needed something to help him retrace his
footsteps and get back to familiar. Suddenly a school of lights flicker out in the distance and
cluster together on the plane. They scatter, leaving behind something tangible.
Desperate for some means of escape, he runs to the shape. As he gets closer, he can start to
determine more about it- what it could mean, how it could help him get out. He could build with
it. “If I can make something, I could make a way out!”. The shape itself lie dormant- it wouldn’t
expand or multiply- can it tell me information? Can it be manipulated? How did those things
produce this? In tandem with his hypotheses, the once inert plane erupts with mountains; the
lights loosely knit new shapes together. Suddenly structures are haphazardly jutting into the once
pristine palette. The world metabolized each thought into a million details, Jordan finds himself
vastly less motivated to escape. The new mission--explore.


As thoughts embellished themselves with details and emotions, the world sorted itself into a
collage. But how do you organize every memory you have? It happens naturally for some, it’s a
struggle for others. But typically we have no say in the matter, no knowledge or control over how
our brains sort. Jordan watched in fascination as his previous ideas were constructed with the
building blocks of precedents and logic. Interactions became laced with reactions and emotions,
inspirations were envisioned through stolen ideas and beautiful memories. Strands of lights
flickered, connecting previously disparate portions of the world. As history related to theory
and facts informed understanding. Millions of bridges spanned in every direction as correlations
created new understandings, slowly populating the middle ground. This made Jordan quite
nauseous to watch.


“Wait, I’ve always felt fine here- I haven’t felt sick since...” his heart started racing, was this the final
piece of the puzzle. Unfortunately for Jordan, this triggered his redemption from the curse. His
teeth clenched, his breath became short , his throat closed up. As the stress quaked through his
world, it started to flicker black. And then the pain. He hadn’t felt pain in what seemed like yearsthe
warm feeling of comfort drained out through his extremities.


“What’s your name?” He heard, not wanting to actually open his eyes
“Jordan Wult” he hazily replied.
“That’s the easy part I suppose. You were in a medically induced coma for 3 days, do you know
how you got here?”
“THREE DAYS? It was a lifetime- I built a world it was... impossibly complex” he frantically
questioned.
“You were hit by a car.” , she calmly continuedwith the routine
“Put-- put me back it didn’t hurt, it was safe, it was perfect” he grasped for her help.
“Your friends are in the other room, they would like to see you.” the nurse cheerily completed her
part of the dialogue.
“Please, you don’t understand what beauty you’re tearing me away from.”


The call went graciously unnoticed and unannounced as acquaintances poured themselves
into the room. Everyone ecstatic to see him. A sentiment which he was expecting to share--
the original plan was to escape after all. As he adjusted into his old life, he couldn’t help but
pit his current work against his previous project. He tried valiantly to see his creation again,
lucid dreaming, meditating, daydreaming. What a fickle subconscious he had, granting his wish
infrequently enough to drive him crazy.
If only he didn’t have to wake up.


I entered a competition called Fairy Tales 2015.  The deliverables were 5 tabloid size illustrations and a short story loosely connected to architectural theories.  So I made a rendition of Sleeping Beauty: 

The first image is intentionally flattened. It uses cel shading to define textures and works to facilitate understanding a monotone in the image. 

We see him traveling between states, the world at the top maintains the cell shading.  As he crosses that boundary, his drawing style changes and shading becomes dynamic and soft. Colors start to become more vivid and lively.

In the coma he has to rebuild his mind palace

I used Mandelbulb3d to create this image and then painted and manipulated it to emphasize the natural look of the backdrop and gothic look of the spire. Colors are analogous when place together to indicate calmness.  The tightly packed fractals indicate what's to come in the next slide.  The reflective "water" provides some context from the previous slide.

And as he does, it starts to collapse on him

The world is simultaneously growing and collapsing.  This is contrasted by a centralized modern style building (previously gothic) but a grim vignette creeping along the border. The palette uses contrasting colors to evoke feelings of turmoil. The main character takes on a supergraphic instead of clothing and shading.

He then wakes up but cannot stop thinking about going back to that place.

The main character maintains the texture to match the fractal world to indicate his attachment to it.  A rather bright green is paired with a dusky purple in order to enforce a contrast.  His head serves as a datum between the real and fantasy. The plan view builds a contrast between the last slide and the first.