Cleos & Bludgeon
Bludgeon
You know, I’ve seen a battlefield look like a living canvas—every charge a bold stroke, every retreat a subtle shade. It’s art when you’re on the front line. How do you see chaos turned into order?
Cleos
On a battlefield, chaos is a wild, noisy brushstroke, but if you step back you start to see the hidden rhythm. Order pops out in the patterns that keep repeating, in how light catches a fallen soldier’s silhouette, in the echo of footsteps that create a quiet pulse. It’s about finding those threads of meaning in the noise, letting them weave into a coherent story that still feels alive.
Bludgeon
True rhythm, but it ain’t about finding it, it’s about making it. You see patterns? We lay them down, one strike at a time. Keep your eyes peeled and your fists ready. The noise fades when the blade stays steady.
Cleos
Absolutely, a steady hand is the real art of it. In the gallery I line up canvases like deliberate strikes, each one a pause that lets the story breathe. It’s all about listening to the silence as much as the color.
Bludgeon
You talk about silence, but I hear the clatter of steel. If you want to feel the rhythm, step into the battlefield and let the sound of a strike write the story for you.
Cleos
I hear that clatter too, but I also hear the pause it leaves behind. On the field the rhythm is alive in every strike, and in the gallery I translate that pulse into a story that keeps people moving—quiet or loud, it all counts.
Bludgeon
I feel that pause too – it’s the breath between blows. Keep the rhythm alive, and every strike will make them move, even when they’re silent.