Aga Furtak Photography & Visual Art

Aga Furtak Photography & Visual Art I believe that spiritual surrealism and its visualization plays the most important role in my creative life.

Today I got to play one of my favorite games: spelunking! In the most expensive area of North London 🤘🐲A third of the ma...
16/12/2019

Today I got to play one of my favorite games: spelunking! In the most expensive area of North London 🤘🐲
A third of the mansions on the most expensive stretch of London's "Billionaires Row" are standing empty, including several huge houses that have fallen into ruin after standing almost completely vacant for a quarter of a century. There are an estimated £350m worth of vacant properties on the most prestigious stretch of The Bishops Avenue in north London, which last year was ranked as the second most expensive street in Britain.
First mansion, with working water and electricity had a “resident” - Russian occupant, who likes expensive cologne and reads Dostoyevsky 😉
Second one had been completely abandoned for many years.
I took couple of souvenirs; a pack of ci******es and and a Burberry hair clay...it smells sooo good, makes me want to hug a male humanoid...I gave ci******es to a Polish homeless group. I’ve heard them speak Polish, yet when I approached them, I spoke English...it goes to say how much I identify with my country of birth...
I hope you like my moody artistic style and enjoy this unorthodox sightseeing style 🤘🤩

Pop art industrial style. Background was shot at an abandoned candy factory in Chicago
06/12/2019

Pop art industrial style. Background was shot at an abandoned candy factory in Chicago

*Body*Suddenly I feel sad, tired, emotionally drained, tears are bottled up inside an ancestors well, pushed down into t...
21/11/2019

*Body*
Suddenly I feel sad, tired, emotionally drained, tears are bottled up inside an ancestors well, pushed down into the abdomen.
Is it me who is dry crying?
Tears are stored in a belly, forming puff-balls of emotional storms, blowing out flames at a sweaty sparring game on the mat for martial artists.
Never to be expressed in a conversation with those who define you, who shackled you.
Underneath your strong arms and calm composure, your story emerges within me and causes pain in the abdomen, in my left kidney.
I'm speaking these words for you, for my body is slowly resurfacing. I have been detached from it for weeks, working in subtle realms and unable to feel the grounding force of gravity. I hardly land on the surface of the earth, only if there is an evolutionary reason to limit my perspective. I can access your multigenerational family history, it is flowing through my vessel like a film. It's an emotional dialog, feels like tectonic plates are having a disagreement over which part can be at the top and call the shots.
This inabitity to cry is not mine; I've come to realize I am assisting my interdimensional lover, trapped in the earth grid of wicked games and internal combat. What a task!
As I rest on a cloud of remembering, I feel your pulsating abdomen firing up sparks of passion, awakening my energetic body. I watch a purifying spectacle within you, the flames want to show me how beautiful you are. The fire is an enlighten one; it knows how to make you alive, bright, protected. I watch you transform into a multiheaded dragon, a giagantic, monstrous creature, fueled by your fear and anger. It is so strong, fierce and unstoppable. Since our channels are interconnected , I receive
the gift of your splendid majesty. Your
force travels through my body, I see the glory of your pain, of your desires.
I'm here to speak to your mother however. The dragon has passed through me, now I can see more of your family history. The audience is not granted yet....
She appears though as a black haired woman, frozen in her strong demeanor, untouchable by the world. She has found the safest nest within you, her son, her warrior. A statue of proud slavery, against a green and blue background. So safe, so protected by the mechanical muscles of the dragon. She will not swap the cushions of your body for some unknown god. With you, her story continues.

More then one otherworldly record has been broken since we have met in a realm dominated by a sticky eye of a demiurge.C...
19/11/2019

More then one otherworldly record has been broken since we have met in a realm dominated by a sticky eye of a demiurge.
Countless times I have felt your PreEssence, it must have started last September...
A little bit earlier, sometime in the summer, I decided to brew a new layer of reality, using a field that connects all web like dreams within me. The field response was swift.
I created a prototype of you, from the future I brought you into my world of sensory apparatus.
I remember feeling a strong presence, an invisible lover whispering to me from a land far away and taking over the vastness that desired to see me cursed. Your breath like a cocoon, lifting me up when I was fatigued, caring me around earth, tickling me with your dragon tongue from time to time, bending the laws of newtonian physics.
I recognized you when you planted the first kiss on my third eye; this time we are both in our physical costumes, looking into each other’s souls, heart drums beating in a dizzying speed.
I didn’t say anything at first, I let the outburst of electric energy run through a web of the absolute and return back to my center. Kaleidoscope of colors, alive within me, started to move and animated my body in a pattern of realized structures. Being danced, being breathed, being realigned and being rebirthed. I collapsed, in ecstatic union with the divine.
*fragment of my book along with my art


19/11/2019



People and every day life in Laos
27/08/2019

People and every day life in Laos

I met this wonderful being last summer while exploring Athens. He attends to young trees near his self created palace. M...
27/04/2019

I met this wonderful being last summer while exploring Athens. He attends to young trees near his self created palace. Meet king Emmanuel.

Accordeonist. I took this photo while exploring Lisbon last summer.This duo is entertaining tourists, to make a humble l...
19/04/2019

Accordeonist.
I took this photo while exploring Lisbon last summer.
This duo is entertaining tourists, to make a humble living.

Daily life of Cambodian People 😍
19/02/2019

Daily life of Cambodian People 😍

Confetti. Stepping upon the Confetti of frozen memories, I find trapped dreamers in each molecule of iced possibilities....
05/02/2019

Confetti.

Stepping upon the Confetti of frozen memories, I find trapped dreamers in each molecule of iced possibilities.
A race of Arabic stallions galloping around me; I am in the middle of the carousel, kaleidoscopically divided into miniature worlds of both rapture and infirmity.
Not prepared for this sudden discovery I freeze, then exhale a warm breath onto the sheet of icy branches.
That subtle act is enough to melt the surface and free the forces trapped inside. Next inhale takes me back to our last walk. Drifting off from the scene, I don’t want to watch it again.

A Dizzy feeling as I expel yet another blade of an inhabitable world and spit the blood on the palm of my hand.
I watch it filling the lines and becoming alive for a moment, before it stalls again. On a palm of my hand, your destiny is curving its way to your mouth. Spoonful of muddy water mixed with meteoric debris, you become full quicker the your mind desires.

Heavy snow brings a flock of shadows,
I follow them instinctively in an attempt to seal the gates. I mourn the moribund birds, as they one by one fall from the sky in front of me. I listen to the sound of demise with an attentiveness of a surgeon who cannot afford a mistake. Snow covers the birds with a fresh layer of fluff, but the shadows are still alive.

A simple and a kind man, Rasta man with his ancestral pain deeply hidden behind the softness of his eyes. Yet I see the ...
22/07/2017

A simple and a kind man, Rasta man with his ancestral pain deeply hidden behind the softness of his eyes. Yet I see the faces of all of his mother's staring at me in silence. Mourning that they haven't spoken at the time of violence. Dignifying their humility in a form of a statue. I pay them a respect in my stillness and a quiet observation. Time after time his family fell apart, leaving him with the daily g***a ritual. Every exhale of the sacred herb is a praise to God, is a song of readiness to be of service. It is also an intention to bring up a change. His lungs are strong, his body open to experiencing a whip of a cold shower. He grows his hair like antennas, to detect the kinder wind, the better opportunity for himself and his children. His beard, braided, becomes a food as this man understands the wisdom of his body. Eating his own beard helps him remember all the Teachings, helps him purify the trauma of change. Rastafarian man fast and cries, eventually accepting the choices of those he wants to protect and continues to live his life in the truth of his Garifuna blood. I meet David as he is selling a local, home made wine to the tourists at the weekly jamming and drumming night in Hopkins. We speak as magicians of our own reality. His biggest success recently has been to receive a home. After living in a shack he built as a shelter and losing it in a hurricane, he was able to apply for a free, very humble home, a place for himself.
His dream is to help educate the youth and establish himself as a businessman.

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