BEN GARDNER
photo credit: Shanti Knight
Benjamin Gardner is an artist and writer living in the Midwestern United States. He has an upcoming solo exhibition at The Weather Station in Lafayette, Indiana (November 2024) and has recent drawings available through Folk Artwork (folkartwork.art).
Gardner’s short animation hallucination dream sequence (2017) was an official selection for Iowa PBS’s Film Lounge Season 2, Cosmocinema Film Festival in London, The Shared Sight Film Festival in Romania, and the Experimental Film exhibition at the CICA Museum in South Korea. It won Best Animation in 2020 at the Beyond the Curve International Film Festival and Best Experimental Film at the 4th Dimensional Film Festival in Bali. When it’s Over (2024, 6.37, Color) is an experimental animation using layered AI images and is available via Vimeo.
He makes music as ASURTA and Lost Music Library, releasing albums through Neverwoord Records and Nim - Brut.
He is the co-owner and editor at Theurgical Studies Press, a publishing company that makes limited edition risograph zines of a horror, weird, and speculative nature. He is also publishing graphic and multimedia stories and novels as Adorcist Books. His publications include stories in Night Terrors Vol. 4, The Knot Wound Round Your Finger published by Bell Press Books, and Mysterium Tremendum: Axis Mundi. He was a guest blogger for the PBS series Civilizations.
Contact:
benjaminagardner [a] gmail [dot] com
or for general inquiries and to say hello.
Curriculum Vitae
Artwork and website © 2024 by Ben Gardner is licensed under CC BY 4.0 
The Fragments
The fragments of long periods of forgotten lineage
Lose most of their meaning when the moon is full,
The birds told
And barked into the sky, an unattractive sound coming
From throat and beak of the feathered spirit
Fragments are what we collect
String and sticks and shit you throw
On the ground
but elevated, surrounding our youth
We are just working
With what is available, some
Thing that you could not imagine
Lose most of their meaning when the moon is full,
The birds told
And barked into the sky, an unattractive sound coming
From throat and beak of the feathered spirit
Fragments are what we collect
String and sticks and shit you throw
On the ground
but elevated, surrounding our youth
We are just working
With what is available, some
Thing that you could not imagine