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Lifeform Islands Fantasy 5
Some living islands start as creatures on the muddy ocean floor, where they scavenge rocks, minerals, organic debris and artifacts. Other islands have volcanic origins. As the islands emerge from the water they harden and their colors are bleached. They are now fossil islands. Eventually they may rise and become clouds, or spin off into black space.
Each living island has its own story. Island visitors have added stories of their own.
White Waves – 54 in.
Not as pure as it thinks.
Unnumbered Blues – 18 in.
This one uses its many flagella to collect still more beads. Another story: This island is an eye blinking open in the middle of a sparkling blue sea. -Jay Senter
Unnamed green – 14 in.
Now called Leafy Cups. Finally developed its own name. Another story: Surrounded by sand and water the lushness grows. Depth and texture abounds from the core of the island. Water feeds the soul of the island as I see so much growth. Rocky green meets the sand. I am calm in the sand and greening. -KP
Stone Slug – 21 in.
When the eggs are ready to hatch they choose their preferred gender. Another story: Like in “The Left Hand of Darkness,” each egg has pluripotential, the ability to differentiate into a variety of identities. Why stop at only 2 genders?
Spooner – 20 in.
Spooner is hard-working and efficient, with very little time for fun. Spooner has only one skill, spooning.
Spiral Heart – 21 in.
Fibonacci based his theory on this heart island. Another story: Fibonacci. This one caught my eye. The theory of proportions in nature and us (being part of nature). Your show pulled me in the nature on micro and macro-scale—I love it! -Anna
Sparkly Tail – 26 in.
The tail is pretty, but heavy.
Sparkle Void – 25 in.
The universe began here long ago. Another story: I like unnumbered blue because it has a good color palette and I like the beads in the middle. -Daisy
Sharky – 95 in.
This one was bitten by a shark and never got its real name back. Another story: Whirly the great big pool. Sometimes they spin so fast, little floaty tendrils fly off to start their own stories! Love your work! -XO Avery
Seedy Black – 19 in.
The hardest worker of the Black consortium. Seedy Black has accumulated possessions but is wearing itself out in the process.
Rocky – 18 in.
Rocky never made it out of the mud. Another story: Let’s improve our perspective here. Rocky’s natural home is the mud. Why should it leave? There are those who love mud and flourish there, and Rocky is one of them.
Pearlie Q – 21 in.
Pearlie Q is a little creepy even with all that jewelry.
Overgrown Skeleton
The skeleton was quietly decaying on the ocean floor when it was attacked by algae and barnacles. It managed to flee to higher ground and is gradually recovering.
Man-body – 29 in.
By chance Man-body developed a humanoid form, but doesn’t know which side is up. Another story: Once a zombie stole a human skin that tried to rule the world but died trying. It got bigger and turned into an island. -PMW, age eight.
Mable – 28 in.
Mable is pretty sure her name is spelled wrong. Another story: From one tiny drop of DNA all life is created, growing from one- to multi-celled organisms, to reptiles and deciduous trees. Love pulses through all life. -Winnie
Longing for Leaves – 40 in.
This island is attempting to reach land where it can put down roots and grow tall. Another story: This Island represents unfulfilled desires.
Leaf-like Lake – 26 in.
The ancient lake started as a volcano, but is now dissipating its energy as foam. Another story: This private island is the equivalent of an animal in a zoo, held against its will by a wealthy Costa Rican. Though it has never known anything else, whether it has any feelings has long been debated. -Ben Westhoff, Aug 28, 2020
Green Neck – 31 in.
Green Neck started plain and practical but became shiny and scattered. Soon, Green Neck will leave the water for the sky.
Fuzzy
Fuzzy is decaying from the center out.
Floppy – 42 in.
Floppy developed a head but couldn’t hold it up. Another story: I like the floppy head. I like the design. There is no moving show. -Junie
Expansive Flow – 85 in.
It believes expansion is a good thing, but the neighbors wonder.
Developing Geode – 31 in.
This one wants to move down into the volcanic realm. Another story: This island has hidden treasure, when revealed, astound the viewer. Thank you. -Elaine Hinchcliff
Dancing Toes – 41 in.
This island likes to rock and roll all night. Another story: Dancing Toes is swirly and spinny. I like the pink one better, but someone already took it. But this is cool too. -Olivia
Curved – 21 in.
The reflected lunar crescent moon shines fluorescently. Another story: It looks like a diamond. But it is an island.
Boring Brown Boy
Sas colonized by a ruby snake and is now the most popular island in his bay. He needs a new name.
Blue Maze – 39 in.
This one is developing a complicated internal labyrinth. Another story: The heart of a maze is always the end of a journey that leads around in circles until the center is found. Blue Maze brings to mind a maze within a maze with life being the center. Love it.
Blue Lagoon – 34 in.
A beautiful but fragile island. Another story: Opening, opening. Opening to join the sea. So happy to be seen! -Mary Anne. Another story: Blue Lagoon, a beautiful but fragile island. I’m at peace within this island, which will always live on. There is continued healing in many forms within the ongoing cosmos. -Love, Ginger
Arc – 30 in.
Arc is shiny and bumpy at the same time. It’s confused.by its dual nature.
Shell Heart – 40 in.
Calcium concretions built a floating island. Formerly a hard worker, Shell Heart is now retired. Another story: Its description sounds like the makings of a coral reef. Future generations will stand on Shell Heart’s shoulders to catch a wider perspective.
Rocky Cliffs – 21 in.
A fruit before becoming an island. Another story: This island uses its single giant eye to spot faraway meals. It subsists entirely on cotton candy. (It spilled some on its chin.)
Rock Nest June – 16 in.
Eventually the eggs will burst and produce more islands. Another story: the idea that each egg will explode and produce more islands sounds like a nuclear fission chain reaction. Bouteloua’s own Manhattan Project.
Reef Bluies – 29 in.
This one got the blues and became lethargic. It can’t move on. Another story: I like the moon shape and the colors. -Junie
Fluorescent Friend – 21 in.
This wealthy and distinctive island can afford to be friendly to all. It attracts a youthful clientele who party late into the night. Another story: Fluorescent Friend sounds like the Central Switchboard of the Island Universe, the Extrovert of the Amoebic World. Perhaps she will, in due course, suck all the remaining islands up and become the Materfamilias.
Droopy – 23 in.
Droopy struggled out of the mud using its flimsy flagella.
Chloro Beauty – 21 in.
Green is enough to make this island appealing. Algae feed on the minerals in the beads. Another story: Home at Last. After traveling many months through desert and steppe land we came upon an oasis. The brown landscape gradually gave way to verdant fields and forests. The fauna greeted us with curiosity that rivaled our fascination with the beautiful flora. We ventured into the forest. The canopy grew taller and taller. The air grew cool. Gradually we lost all sense of time. How long have we dwelled in this paradise? This is our home. We have never left.
Sir Pointy
The Methuselah of islands, Sir Pointy is an example to all of persistence and the willingness to grow new structures. Another story: They took me to Sir Pointy long after all hope had been lost in finding a cure for my disability, the name of which I’ve already forgotten. And it wasn’t even a disability, but a “disorder.” A compulsion to touch and feel around everything and everyone I saw. Anyway, when we landed, the blue-tipped quay bubbled with seemingly unsettled current. Of course, I knew that it was volcanic. Nevertheless, I dropped to the ground, took out my case of sample vials, and managed not to drool at the emerging avian-like giant flesh of deepest blue. “Hurry, Veck,” my mother called, cupping my shoulders from behind, “we’ll miss the rickshaw to the Center Cathedral.” “Cathedral? They’ve already built a cathedral?” I asked, too captivated by the visible currents and streams destroying the space between the water and land of the southwest inlet. I was not conscious enough to see that that my mother was exploiting my weakness for religious architecture. And so with little will, I followed Mom along the uniform path identical to every sidewalk in every other block of the town I came from, and met the rickshaw driver, who was stark naked and looking, as with most naked people, unremarkable – and somehow associated with a painful shaking feeling – curt, and showing himself to be already waiting for us as we wasted no time to climb up on the burlap-stitched seat framed with the dullest of varnished beige wood. When we finally arrived at the “Center Cathedral,” I was hammered drunk with excitement, but the flames lining the majority of our ride, concentrating at the white bridge to the cathedral entry, had caused me to sweat so much I could no longer feel anything. “Mom,” I yelled panic-stricken, “I can’t feel anything. I can’t feel my fingers.” All of a sudden, my Mom’s cheeks turned rosy, which somehow sustained the most lapis of blue canopies moving over us like a storm cloud. “Praise the Lord,” she said.
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