s2art
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s2art.at.app.wafrn.net
s2art
@s2art.at.app.wafrn.net
2 followers 3 following 13 posts
Photographer & Flâneur on un-ceded Kulin Nation lands; with an iPhone and some film cameras. Servant to 2 Devon Rex Kats.[...]

View full profile at https://app.wafrn.net/blog/s2art
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s2art.at.app.wafrn.net
Breaking: Cone ascends stool, declares itself CEO of vibes.
Millennials everywhere nod in solidarity, clutching iced lattes.
✨ Conecore aesthetic ✨ Balancing debt, vibes, and teeth on a stool.
December 16, 2025 at 1:16 AM
s2art.at.app.wafrn.net
Is this a self portrait?
A busted ghost of a human—white, cracked, faceless—stares into the brick void like it owes him money. Their back is a battlefield of seams and plaster scars, hunched in silent protest against the tyranny of smooth surfaces. The countertop below is speckled like a crime scene, the wall behind a noir grid of existential dread. This isn’t art, it’s a witness protection program for forgotten gods.
November 15, 2025 at 9:56 PM
s2art.at.app.wafrn.net
Some days are only 1/2 as bad as the others...
A cracked suburban tarmac unfurls like a forgotten stage, its surface mottled with the scabs of old weather and the faint hieroglyphs of tire ghosts. From the bottom left corner, the tip of a sneaker intrudes humble, blue, and slightly scuffed marking the photographer’s presence like a signature in the dust. But the true protagonist is the shadow: elongated, angular, and absurdly heroic, stretching diagonally across the frame like a noir detective caught mid-monologue. The sun, low and conspiratorial, casts this silhouette with surgical precision, revealing a figure outside the frame arm raised, perhaps clutching a phone, perhaps saluting the void, perhaps conducting an invisible orchestra of leaf-blown memories. The shadow’s legs are impossibly long, like a Giacometti sculpture on stilts, striding across the cracked skin of the Earth with mythic intent. It’s not just a shadow it’s a timestamp, a psychic echo, a visual haiku about presence and absence. The curb in the background curves like a question mark, leading nowhere in particular, fenced off by utilitarian wire and a patch of grass that dreams of being a paddock. The whole scene hums with early morning melancholy, the kind that makes you wonder if the sun is rising or just taking a smoke break behind the clouds. This is not a photo. This is a transmission from the Ministry of Shadows, a bureaucratic hallucination filed under “Ephemeral Self-Portraits and Other Accidents.” It’s a moment caught between footsteps, a visual sigh, a reminder that even the most mundane surfaces can host mythic dramas if the light hits just right. The pavement is cracked, yes but so is the fourth wall. And somewhere, just outside the frame, the photographer grins, knowing they’ve captured not just a shadow, but a fleeting proof of existence: tall, strange, and gloriously unrepeatable.
November 2, 2025 at 5:12 AM
s2art.at.app.wafrn.net
Wandering home towards my awaiting train, I passed this sc-fi looking portal. Sometimes I think another dimension would be nice. Most times though; not. #OtherDimension-#portal-#Scifi-#perpsective-#gonzo-#photography-#iPhone-#iphoneography
A corridor straight out of a bureaucratic fever dream—checkered floor like a chessboard for interdimensional pawns, flanked by matte black walls that whisper secrets in binary. Fluorescent veins pulse along the ceiling, guiding the eye toward the glowing circle at the end: a portal? A retinal scanner for gods? A minimalist shrine to the cult of symmetry? To the left, a man hunched at a desk, possibly the gatekeeper or just a caffeine-fueled casualty of late capitalism. To the right, a yellow wall screams in Helvetica: “Trade in your old devices for cash,” as if enlightenment could be bought with obsolete tech. QR codes dangle like digital bait. The whole scene hums with the tension of a sci-fi noir—Blade Runner meets suburban mall. You’re not sure if stepping forward will lead to a customer service kiosk or a wormhole to the Ministry of Lost Time. Either way, the portal beckons. You feel watched. You feel chosen. You feel like you forgot your password to reality.
October 30, 2025 at 8:55 PM
s2art.at.app.wafrn.net
Calling all cops. Calling all cops. #urban-#street-#photography-#iPhone-#candid-#CBD-#laneway-#graf-#grafitti
An urban street scene in Melbourne Victoria Australia. In the CBD. A man, in the shadows makes a call, while life scurries on around him.
October 30, 2025 at 7:33 AM
s2art.at.app.wafrn.net
Why does this number never go away?
Anyone?
Or is it, just me.
Safari 26.0.1 Mac OS Tahoe 26.0.1 on a MacBook Pro Apple M3 chip #meta-#support
screen grab of my profile page here on WAFRN
October 24, 2025 at 10:23 PM
s2art.at.app.wafrn.net
Road trip a comin' woot woot #Roadtrip-#driving-2-hours-plus-#staya-#Victoria
map of my upcoming road trip to visit a relative, Melbourne to Gippsland
October 23, 2025 at 7:38 PM
s2art.at.app.wafrn.net
Catch the train to the end of the line.
Get off.
Walk around.
What do you see?

A park with some bridge infrastructure over it, from my series, 'Everything & Nothing', Werribee 2025-16-06 14:53:32 #iPhone-#photography-#melbourne-#Victoria-#australia
Wyndham Park Play Grounds, 2025-10-06
October 23, 2025 at 2:37 AM