#clinamen

[jareckiworld]

Michael Kunze — Clinamen (oil on canvas, 2023)

[transparentgentlemenmarker]

Elisa Barg capture l'art de Céleste Boursier Mougenot, dérive dans la musique "clinamen" est une sculpture sonore fascinante où des bols en porcelaine flottent dans l'eau, entrant doucement en collision pour créer des carillons doux et mélodiques.

Comment vous trouvez-vous celà ???

Apaisant

Énervant

Stupide

Ne se prononce pas

Seulement pour les wokes

Zen

Méditatif

Voting ended onAug 22, 2025

[righthandmade]

clinamen

[noosphe-re]

On this topic I want you to learn this too, that when atoms move straight down through the void by their own weight, they deflect a bit in space at a quite uncertain time and in uncertain places, just enough that you could say that their motion has changed. But if they were not in the habit of swerving, they would all fall straight down through the depths of the void, like drops of rain, and no collision would occur, nor would any blow be produced among the atoms. In that case, nature would never have produced anything.

Lucretius, On the Nature of Things

[xponentialdesign]

Clinamen

[starlling-writes]

The Singing Fountain

- Fantasy short story - 700 words - Suitable for everyone - Inspired by Clinamen by Celeste Bousier-Mougenot - Writing Masterlist

In your town, there was a fountain near the woods with floating singing bowls. No one knew when the fountain was built or who put the bowls in it; they’ve just always been there. But the thing that puzzled people the most was how the bowls sang.

The fountain was more of a fancy, bricked off pond. Circular. Waist deep. Simple. But definitely not natural. Nothing about it would cause the water to flow, and yet the bowls would float across the surface, pulled by gentle currents. Just as strangely, on windy days when gales churned the waters the bowls would sit rather still.

Over the years, people noticed some patterns to their songs. They’d always sing on solar holidays; and their tunes often evoked the time of year. Even in winter, the water would rarely freeze and soft notes would float up as snowflakes floated down. Most notably, their songs were never discordant. You could hardly put the notes to any classical measure but they were always in harmony.

Despite all the mystery—or perhaps because of it—people loved to come and sit by the fountain and listen to the bowls sing.

 After a rough week, you needed to clear your head. You drifted around town, letting the midnight air clear your head, when you found yourself at the singing fountain.

You sat on the ground and leaned on the wall, letting your fingers trace slow circles on the water’s surface. Within a minute the bowls started singing and floating towards you. They parted before they could hit your hand and drifted back around to the side opposite you before repeating their path.

Their magic soon lulled you into a haze. You used one arm as a pillow and closed your eyes as your continued playing with the water with your free hand. Your vision blurs as your eyes start to shut. Through half-lidded eyes you watch the hypnotic dance of the bowls floating in circles. Then something else in the water catches your attention.

You keep your focus as is instead of trying to chase the flash of what you saw. Sparkles danced under the water. Gradually they took form. Translucent butterfly-like creatures swam around the fountain in the same pattern as the bowls. They flew around the water, some jumping up and twirling around the surface. You had never seem them before; as far as you knew, no one had.

Despite the burning and the tears filling your eyes, you fought not to blink. A part of you feared that if you did, or if you focused more on these creatures, they’d disappear.

One of them skittered over. Up close, you could now make out their silvery figure. They were humanoid with small fins along their forearms and legs. The butterfly wings you saw before now took on a more fin-like structure too.

They were a water fae.

With that revelation, all the mysteries surrounding the fountain made sense. Many assumed there was some magical explanation; now you knew what exactly was responsible—at least what they looked like.

The little fae got unnervingly close to your face. You held your breath. Unable to fight it any longer you finally blinked. The fae jerked away. To your surprise, though, it slowly crept closer again. In a swift movement, they flew within an inch of your face then darted back again. You had second to notice they were now holding a small drop of water before it dashed off back among the singing bowls.

The song the bowls rang out began changing. Airiness filled their tune. As the energy picked up, more fae came up from the water and danced with each other. They spun the bowls this way and that, orchestrating the new song as they bounded about.

You enjoyed the private concert for a few minutes more. The arm you were resting on was growing numb and you needed to move. Languidly, you sat up and stretched. The fae vanished from your sight as you stirred. You hated to see them go, but you knew they were still there—they’ve always been there. You bowed you head and said a soft, “Thank you.” Their secret was one you’d happily keep.

— — —

Masterlist

[cosleia]

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[bananartista]

"clinamen" mixed media on paper : : : : : : : #artecontemporanea #contemporaryart #contemporarypainting #artcollector #abstractart #minimalart #minimalismo #bananartista #genio #disegno #dailydrawing #lucretius #chaos #arteastratta #popart #artforsale #abstractart #lowbrow #outsiderart #pendrawing #mostra #meditazione #capolavoro #trippy #psychedelicart #clinamen (at Törbel, Switzerland)