“From this dead calm will burst a storm of woes.”
- Oedipus the King by Sophocles
Introduction: The snake slowly coils into a rucksack of bones laid back with sparklers and slumber in there forever to be exhumed sooner or later and an aristocratic crucifix was cloaked with the most luxurious linen and perpetually extinguished from the scrutinizing human eyes.
Jacob Lindo have figuratively ransacked, looted, excavated some antediluvian relics preserved for ages, as he intended these bits and pieces to be fabricated then as to be detonated as a new form of paean bomber ready to snuff out all things that was supposed to be sacrosanct.
His works buoyed into paranoia of comparison which formulates the status of ambivalence. The imagery somehow epitomizes that even the most banal image by-product is laid over for cross-pollination sorted out in some postmortem fashion. It was gritty-neat-and-black-sheen-and-slick all over. Ethereal yet self-redemptive appropriation from an unknown film noir stills. Lurking anti-fanaticism that leaked into iconoclastic debate and much less forgettable with some right-wing assailants coming from culturati co-conspirators. Nevertheless death upon itself is a rational argument over matters unresolved. Sacrilegious and blasphemous became synonymous terms from among all walks of life these days but never fully understood which goes something like pop goes the world parallel to that of John Lennon’s mercantile impish pronouncement that turned into medieval hoax.
This exhibit clandestinely inspired from the Latin idiom- memento mori. Remember that you must die. Remember the act of reparation? Isn’t it just for forgiveness of sin but furtive retribution? Concealed messages suffice some of the images of skulls and bones. And a piece called “Shrouded Lore” is ample proof that the most blatant messages undermine even of the most dreadful ruffian act that can be done to reach a medium where religiosity and prudence merges along with the culture of excessiveness.
Dead Calm is narcoleptic shroud of the death-bringer looming over damnation waiting like the sinister flick “The Omen” that warns “the devil might just be around the corner?” This is a pseudo-campy avowal of death that will generate witnesses and shall be modestly called finders’ keepers more than anything else. -Frederick Sausa, 2011
