Fractals of nature's flesh protrude and pulse towards the light with dewy spores and fine-haired antennae.
Each part engaged in a tangled web of life, turned over in a delicate dance as ruthless and beautiful as ever, where predator and prey do not judge but exist in cycles of being.
This is the home of the Polyblossom, a form beyond classification, and a simple, not so simple, amalgamation of life born unto itself—displayed in all its miniature, grotesque glory.
-Auriel
This piece was one of three automatic drawing sketches I created while visiting fellow artist Larkin in Seattle this past September. There was no specific intention or theme—only to be lost in music and mood and let the graphite take its course. Each piece was unique, and my usual stylized patterns showed through, but a new weaving pattern emerged that I will now incorporate into my future drawings. It's through this 'in the flow' state that experimentation often occurs most effectively—organic and unfettered by external or internal creative pressures.
Sometimes sketches like these serve as preliminary foundations for larger works later on, or, if I develop a particular fondness for them as they are, I prepare them to be framed. Nearly all my pieces incorporate at least half recycled materials, and custom frames made from thrift-store finds are part of that. It's not uncommon for the framing process to take as long as creating the artwork, as they must meet the same standards of quality and sturdiness, regardless of their origin. At least, that's the standard I hold myself to—as an extension of my values.
As fellow artists, you may have similar standards or new ones of your own; in fact, I encourage this. And as someone who values the arts, supporting this is something to be proud of—whether by giving artwork a new home or sharing in any way you feel comfortable. Art serves as a bridge—connecting ideas, communication, and inspiration—and personal standards are part of the raw material that builds that bridge. For my part, I've decided to showcase this piece in the December 2025 show at Hive Gallery, my home away from home for creative weirdos.
Much of my art is a surrealist fever dream of pareidolia, so it fits perfectly there: creatures, people, plants, insects, flowers, vines, and celestial forms all mingle and morph into different shapes for each viewer. Sometimes I have intentions beforehand; other times, I let the intention reveal itself as it flows through me. Only afterward do I interpret the symbolism and assign meaning as I see fit.
This particular piece is a mix of fungi, a pollinating bee, a worker ant, a caterpillar, and a tropical flower blooming from the latticework of another decaying mushroom cap, with its disheveled foliage. It's a reflection of the inevitable cycle of transformation that life embodies.
Other artists have explored similar themes through body horror, such as in The Thing or Society, highlighting the unnatural distortions caused by interference with nature and excess. Yet, as with most things, entropy can lead to many different paths, often ending in the same place. We are all part of the divine cycle of death and rebirth, and our interpretations need not be black-and-white but rather a spectrum of possibilities. And herein lies the paradox: we often need the stark contrast of black and white to find our current position in relation to them, and that is where the spectrum truly exists.
Everything in life has its purpose and is meant to provoke thought. The beauty of visual art is that this influence often happens subconsciously and can then be expanded upon freely. For me, engaging with art in this way is a ritual—an intentional act made manifest through skill and flow. I finished this piece by snipping the edges with scissors and threading a labradorite cabochon to serve as a gemstone portal—mirrored striations and shifting colors depending on the light angle—fitting for a "Polyblossom."
