Dust: A Tale of Urban Dissent

by Bridget Keely & John Paul Barratt

THE BREAKAWAY

I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying,
Come and see.

And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer.
I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts say, “come and see.” And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death
“My life fades. The vision dims. All that remains are memories. I remember a time of chaos… ruined dreams…
this wasted land.”
WHAT WE DID
We were sent to investigate and document the most severely affected area. We asked one of the first inhabitants what he called this place, he laughed for seven minutes then spat on the ground, “Dust”. The people here live in the barren land with nothing but the stuff it’s named for. Some are considered gods (she can see what others can’t). Others are lost, wandering the earth alone. We found a man walking in circles, lost in his head but always moving towards his attacker. There are privileged people too. Full of arrogance and ego. (They probably won’t survive.) We met a mother. A thief. A performer. The man that comes around lived among the plants that powered the past.
We are Bridget and John. Our imagery is meant to be a direct interpretation of the fashion photography we saw in the book house. The one called Richard Avedon. Influenced by generations of science fiction and post apocalyptic fantasy.    
We hope you enjoy our work. Help send us on our way to the newly opened exclusion zone, Kudzu. There are prints and booklets for sale and we would love to talk to people that want to participate in our journey.  Check out the rest of our portfolio.
BridgetKeely.com
JohnPaulBarratt.com
Thank you

Caption

The sun was hot; her blood was cold.
We found her on a mountaintop,
burying all that she had known.
When asked for a photo she shrugged
“Show everyone, I have lost everything…they will pay”.

The teeth?
From a four legged beast of the concrete age; rare and valuable.

Print 4

An explosion heard round the globe.
But he was already at battle,
far from from his mantle,
his family,
his chapel.
With the end of normalcy comes the death of diplomacy.
Home is where he needs to be.
The Man said no but his men said go.

Print 5

Duty calls for the mother of all.
An unwanted miracle for her to protect.
Her partner not needed,
The man with the skull serves religiously.
For she is the most powerful one we encountered.
She is the might,
all that is necessary to bring life.
He only holds her back, slows her down.

 

Print 2

She saw more than all of them.
Goddess of the godless.
Told stories of miracles; she was at the Happening.
How has she survived this long? Sight came from childhood,
she clicks
and she sees;
she is miraculous.
Once behind the camera the truth reveled.
“Do you see it?” the Goddess asked.
“Yes but only SOOC” we replied.

Print 8

She’s tired and clearly confused,
stupid girl never learned how to put on a gas mask or swing an ax.
This is it,
it’s her end
but she could get it back if she started swinging with a little feeling.
Been roaming around her tent
too long now.
The lions are getting hungry and the bars on the cages are rusting.
We give her a week.

Print 9

Stocked up on the coolest clothes
but forgot his humanity at the door of urbanity.
In a quick and bloodless altercation
we asked for some personal information.
He was on a mission to fuck shit up and forget he ever existed.
We expect to hear a horror story about all his crimes and misgivings but instead
he admits.
“I always wanted to be a monster and now I’m finally living”

Print 3

Circles,
circles,
circles.
Under his eyes,
the birds in the sky,

the tracks on the ground.

We travel in a straight line always running into Mr. Sunshine.
He’s forgotten the first time,
ready to fight the paradigm.
Why do I call him sunshine?
He’ll implode
then explode
and take his world with him.

Print 10

Free; to die slowly.
But, aren’t we all?
Corrosion of the skin is common among the remnants.
Made use of what they called “popapocalyptic” to decorate the chaotic.

This one sleeps and reads and watches by the dry sea. 
“Why couldn’t it be like waterworld 1995?” she asks me?
After her portrait she marked how beauteous her appearance was.
We concur enthusiastically.
Then get the hell out of dodge 

Print 6

She survived for this?
Privileged pampered and exuberating with excellence;
yet a contrived lifestyle.
Her legacy was running out.
When we took her portrait, her excitement was unmatched by any other.
She became entrenched with our equipment,
at one point begging to keep an item to cherish.
We did not deviate from the objective;
we have no sympathy for the 1%

Print 7

Too much radiation
and too much sucrose
made this colorful ghost.
Child or guard dog,
he’s equal parts malice and bliss.
Once a brave worker who just liked a little sugar,
he has became a warden for the Naught and forever lost.