Jimmy Jangles....


Exhibit: Jimmy Jangles

Jimmy Jangles

Generative Typography • 2025 • Cycle 1
Letters
1
System State
Growth

Jimmy Jangles explores the interplay between order and chaos. The system begins with a single letter. When a character falls through the gap, the system triggers: for each one lost, two more are generated from the name.

Upon reaching a critical mass of 1,000, the artwork enters Exodus Phase. Creation ceases, and the characters dwindle until the canvas is clean, resetting the cycle.

The Second Ephemeral Bloom


The Ephemeral Bloom - Exhibit Description

The Second Ephemeral Bloom

Digital Installation v2.1 // White Edition

About the Work

The Second Ephemeral Bloom is a dynamic, living installation that explores the profound and cyclical nature of existence. Set against a stark white void, a digital garden emerges. Complex, multi-layered flora flourish in a vibrant dance of ink and geometry, only to surrender their form in a cascade of falling petals.

This iteration focuses on "organic contrast." Using deep, rich gradients and structural veining, the flowers mimic high-definition botanical illustrations that breathe. The garden operates on an autonomous loop. Once the bloom reaches its peak saturation, the inevitable decay begins. Flower by flower, the structure deconstructs, leaving the canvas clean for the next cycle.

Artist's Statement

"There is a terrifying beauty in a blank page. In this version of the Bloom, the white background represents the infinite potential of the present moment. The flowers erupt from this silence - bold, loud, and unapologetic - before dissolving back into the white. It suggests that life is a vibrant interruption of the void, a temporary splash of color that we must appreciate before the page clears itself again."

- Jimmy Jangles
-

Lovers of nature's digital gardens may wish to visit the original Emphemeral Bloom.

We're two lost souls living in a fish bowl, too


Enhanced Fish Bowl
Click to expand to full screen
Move mouse to scare fish

Click the fish bowl to maximise, press escape to close. 

'We're two lost souls living in a fish bowl, too'  - A meditation on the quiet beauty of confinement. This kinetic study invites the observer to breathe in rhythm with the silent ballet of existence, finding a sanctuary of inner peace amidst the currents of the digital void, a prison of empathy.

Here's the original fish bowl. Do check out the Bouncing Bunnies!

Why Did Robbie Want to Fight in War of the Worlds?


Steven Spielberg’s War of the Worlds (2005) channels the chaos of alien invasion into something more intimate and painfully human: a fractured family caught in the crossfire between survival and separation.

Tom Cruise’s Ray Ferrier is not a natural hero; he’s an absent father, a man scrambling to reconnect with his children while the world collapses around them. Yet amid the destruction, part of the film’s emotional core belongs to Robbie, Ray’s teenage son, whose restless defiance and need to act become a lens for Spielberg’s recurring theme of independence in the face of fear. 

Robbie’s journey, from rebellion to survival, mirrors the world’s own fragile persistence.

From his first appearance, Robbie embodies frustration and mistrust. 

robbie ferrier war of the worlds survival


He resents his father’s authority, challenges his every decision, and rejects the false security Ray tries to impose.

In the storm of the invasion, Robbie’s desire to fight, against both the alien menace and his father’s control, becomes his defining impulse. 

He sees the military convoys and hears the roar of resistance, mistaking the illusion of combat for agency. His decision to leave is an act of both rebellion and self-definition, a moment when he chooses to step into danger rather than remain a child under protection.

Spielberg frames this with visceral tension: the red flare of explosions, the chaos of fleeing crowds, and the silent anguish on Ray’s face as he realizes that control, over his son and over his family, is gone.

Ray’s reluctant decision to let Robbie go marks one of the film’s most morally charged moments. He could force him to stay, but doing so would destroy the fragile trust between them. As the alien tripods bear down and Rachel screams in terror, Ray faces an impossible equation: save one child by releasing another. 

His choice isn’t noble; it’s human. 

It’s the act of a father learning that love sometimes means surrender. Spielberg lingers on this with devastating restraint, and the cut between Robbie disappearing into the dust and Ray holding Rachel close says more than any dialogue could. 

In that instant, fatherhood becomes a battlefield as real as any outside the ruined landscape.

The assumption of Robbie’s death deepens the film’s emotional gravity. His absence haunts the narrative, becoming a wound that drives Ray’s desperate determination to protect Rachel. The chaos of survival, hiding in basements and fleeing through blood-smeared streets, takes on a metaphysical weight. 

What kind of world can a parent build when nothing is safe? 

Here, Spielberg returns to familiar ground: families torn apart by catastrophe, the impossible dream of reunion. Robbie’s presumed loss reflects the larger existential dread of War of the Worlds, that humanity’s endurance is not just physical but emotional, defined by what it’s willing to lose.

When Robbie reappears at the film’s end, alive and waiting at his mother’s doorstep, the reunion borders on miraculous. 

Some critics saw it as overly sentimental, but within Spielberg’s moral universe, it feels essential. The moment reframes everything that came before: Ray’s journey from panic to paternal purpose finds its echo in Robbie’s survival. 

It isn’t triumph that matters, but connection, the restoration of family amid the ruins. The reunion doesn’t erase the trauma; it affirms that endurance, in the Spielbergian sense, is not conquest but reconciliation.

Robbie’s return signals that autonomy and love can coexist, that survival is as much about faith in each other as it is about fighting the impossible.

In the end, War of the Worlds is less about aliens than it is about fathers and children navigating catastrophe. Robbie’s decision to leave, Ray’s choice to let him go, and their ultimate reunion form the emotional architecture of the story, a meditation on control, loss, and the human need to belong even when the world is ending. 

Spielberg transforms a tale of cosmic destruction into something piercingly intimate, reminding us that survival is never just about who lives, but who we find again when the dust finally clears.

Themes of the Alien film franchise


The "Alien" franchise is not merely a series of films; it's a sprawling cosmos of terror, wonder, and philosophical inquiry. From Ridley Scott's groundbreaking original to the sequels and spin-offs, each installment is a unique celestial body in a galaxy of storytelling.

They explore the darkest corners of human fear and the brightest sparks of human ingenuity, all set against the backdrop of the unfathomable abyss of space.

This is a franchise that has not only defined a genre but has also redefined how we perceive the unknown.

"Alien" (1979): The Genesis of Dread

Ridley Scott's "Alien" is a masterclass in suspense and atmospheric horror. The film introduced us to the Nostromo, a commercial spacecraft, and its ill-fated crew, including the indomitable Ellen Ripley. The Xenomorph, an alien creature as elegant as it is deadly, became an instant icon of both horror and science fiction.

The film's tagline, "In space, no one can hear you scream," encapsulates its essence—loneliness, vulnerability, and the existential terror of the unknown.

"Aliens" (1986): A Symphony of Survival

James Cameron took the directorial reins for the sequel, "Aliens," and transformed the horror-centric narrative into an action-packed saga of survival and motherhood. Ripley returns, this time not just as a survivor but as a protector, a maternal figure in a world devoid of tenderness.

The film is a roller-coaster of emotions, from the adrenaline-pumping action sequences to the heart-wrenching moments of vulnerability.

"Alien 3" (1992): The Requiem of Despair

Directed by David Fincher, "Alien 3" is often considered the franchise's most divisive installment. Set in a penal colony, the film explores themes of isolation and redemption.

It's a darker, more introspective chapter that delves into the psyche of Ripley, who is once again forced to confront her cosmic nemesis. The film's bleak tone and controversial narrative choices make it a haunting, if polarizing, experience.

"Alien Resurrection" (1997): The Phoenix Rises

Jean-Pierre Jeunet's "Alien Resurrection" is a Frankenstein-esque tale of rebirth and identity. Ripley is resurrected as a clone, and with her rebirth comes a new set of ethical and existential dilemmas. The film is a visual spectacle, filled with grotesque beauty and audacious set pieces that push the boundaries of the franchise's thematic scope.

alien promethus

With themes ranging from the dangers of corporate greed to the primal fear of the unknown, the Alien movies continue to provoke and terrify audiences with each new installment. Whether you are a longtime fan or a newcomer to the series, the Alien franchise is a must-see for anyone who loves thrilling, thought-provoking cinema.

General Alien discussion

Alien 3