The Vague Ridge between Flesh and Metal.

It is by far, one of the most intriguing facets of our psyche. That blurred fascination with this hybrid art-form; The biomech artwork distilled into its purest form. One questions his own mind when so much pleasure is born from a mere glimpse into the abyss.

The site of flesh and metal twisted, bolted and folded into each other. Why is it that we crave such an outlandish union?

Lately, I noticed that my interest in the Alien franchise had been rekindled. I spent many hours per day consuming footage of H.R Giger’s Xenomorph and the legacy of horror it had awakened several decades ago.

But is it all horror?

I took a few steps back to examine this strange inclination to delve deep into the cold, coiling labyrinths of Bio-mechanic art. How a metallic bone twisted and turned, with ribbed cables protruding from every curve; arched horns turning from under metal flaps overshadowing a piece of vibrant white flesh. Chaotic, unhindered and beautifully terrible.

We cannot satiate from such a nightmare.

So why? Why is such a strange facet of imagination, repulsive at first glance, nevertheless revealing to many truths we forever seek.

Does the mind silently cherish this union of flesh and metal as a euphemism to the bare nature of reality itself? How light and darkness are constantly enmeshed into one hybrid reality. And the mind sinks in comfort from an inherent understanding of such a primordial reality. In other words, these hybrid images could be considered vignettes defining with crude images, the essence of all that is about life and death.

Or maybe, this could be an awakening; how we prophesize our end on the hands of our techno-progeny. And that future holds a grim promise to all biological life forms, and deep inside we’d already surrendered to that utter prospective.

Nothing left to do but to worship and cherish the path ahead.

Why does contrast flood us with pure untamed emotions? And with such ease.

Is beauty nothing without a rim of black haze and darkness surrounding its curved exquisite features? Should we even stop asking why? Should we just hold our fingers to our lips, and let our eyes tell us what we want to know? To succumb under an obscure logic far beyond what the mind could ever conceive.

In a way I bring myself into that conviction, and allow this fascination of mine to withhold any explanation.

I settle with the gift of sensory explosion bestowed by the conjoined masses of metal and man.

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