“The Fortune” triptych explores humanity’s fraught relationship with mother nature through the lens of whaling—a brutal tradition that serves as a metaphor for mankind’s attempts to dominate the natural world. The poetry examines the legacy of exploitation, the yearning for connection, and the spiritual resonance found in nature’s mysteries. From the harpooner’s relentless pursuit of power to the whaler’s longing for home, from the haunting song of the whales to the quiet wisdom of patience, The Fortune invites viewers to confront the consequences of their actions and rediscover their place within a greater, harmonious design.

"A face carved from the North’s harsh stone,

His eyes, twin glaciers, cold and alone.

The sea was his kingdom, the knife his crown,

Where whales were felled, their greatness drowned.

And though I saw he was a world apart,

Like a figure from my childhood,

Uncle Svenson strode through the crimson spray,

Hunting titans flensed with rust and decay.

The bow of the ship was his to command,

As we sped onwards to the grind.

“Take the blade, boy—this is your kin,

The blood of giants flows within.”

RED. At the first Grind I witnessed,

the beach was red.

A harrowing red.

Red as my mother’s cheeks.

Red like crushed strawberries.

Or the cutting board after tendering steak.

Red like boiled crab claws.

Swirling red amongst the seaweed,

Like the barber nicked his customer’s scalp.

Red is the only color whales can see in the water.

The bow of the ship was one thing,

The next the character of a man,

For turning cogs and pistons,

Cannot reach the depths, the spirit understands.

“Dive deeper,” he said, “where the songs are sung,

Where the marrow of life is stripped and wrung.”

Dive deeper through the surface of the waves,

That face of the sea that shows the reflections of the moon,

The further down he reaches, down further he finds home,

Gardens of these beasts,

Gardens of the unknown,

They walks down that bristling Summer road,

A home and a family of his own,

A reflection in the boys that would be men,

Their shadows and their brightness,

Face the ocean until the end.

Dismissed as a boy “No Talent” they said,

A wound that stayed, like the seas he bled.

“I own the tides, the whales, the sea,

The world bends to those like me.”

The man to beat,

The one who had already won,

Guardian of the house, their mother and their song,

Sacrificed his days for their destiny all as one,

Gold that fell from the sun,

A price to pay for the future,

All just for one day in Elysium."

~ Laurence Fuller, 2024

"The Fortune" series exhibits during Miami Art Week, December 2024 at Scope Art Show with Superchief Gallery, and with M2 Miami Nolcha Shows immersive exhibition.

Cinematic Poetry by Laurence Fuller

Textures of paint AI modelled on paintings by Stephanie Fuller

www.laurencefuller.art