We live in an uncertain age full of random violence and civil unrest. The blossoming flower of the Arab Spring; the destructive force of Al Qaeda, the horrors of a Santorum.
We discuss - in our minimalist studios, bedecked in thick rimmed urban chic glasses - the reflection of of art upon life, and life indeed upon art. This piece recently surfaced in discussion amongst the salon of artistic intellectuals I frequent. Drinking our usual- I'd mention it but it's far too obscure for you to know - we were astounded by the depth to which this piece spoke to us.
Art does not exist within a vacuum. The ferocity invoked in this image, the carnal nature of each specimen. The sum of killing potential. Fear, passion, nationalism, internationalism, philosophy.
Contemplate the predators: the Shark, a vicious creature of the sea, saddled and bridled for the machinations of a sinister prehistoric animal equipped with a weapon now nearly synonymous with terror cells. But then imagine the utter fear of this simplistic predator, now holding weapon millennia beyond it's time, light-years beyond it's comprehension.
They race through waters, we see land in the background but is it national or international water? Whither goest thou, RaptorsharkRPG?
Who is the true victim here? Is it the people the raptor seeks to destroy? No, the raptor follows only a basic predatory instinct, their deaths will be the result of simple biology - and combustion, chemistry. No, friends, the true victim here - the Shark - whose most basic instincts are being bridled by a creature theoretically far less evolved.
What does this say to us? That perhaps we enslave ourselves to primal, basic instincts which are antiquated, which serve us little and less in the modern world? Or does the artist portray us more as the Raptor, drawn toward destruction by our very nature, given tools far more powerful than any claw or tooth. Juxtaposing the intensity of the creature with the catastrophe of the weapon.
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