Inspiration is Key

It's been about six months since I delved headfirst into the realm of creating images using artificial intelligence, and I must say, the journey has been nothing short of captivating. From the very beginning, I was spellbound by the incredible abilities and swiftness with which AI can bring imagery to life.

What initially drew me in was the sheer potential AI holds for generating ideas and sparking creativity. As an artist, inspiration is key, and AI has proven to be a tool in this regard. It effortlessly churns out suggestions and concepts, acting as a muse that never sleeps. But what truly excites me is that the journey doesn't end there; it's only the beginning.

With each creation, I find myself immersed in a collaborative dance between human intuition and machine precision. The process is a delicate balance of guiding the AI while allowing its algorithms to surprise and delight me with unexpected twists and turns. What emerges from this partnership is not just a mere digital rendering but a piece of art imbued with a unique blend of human emotion and technological ingenuity.

But let's address the elephant in the room: Will AI ever replace the age-old tradition of painting by hand? As someone who cherishes the tactile experience of wielding a brush and feeling the texture of canvas beneath my fingertips, I can confidently say no. Painting by hand is a deeply personal journey, an intimate expression of one's innermost thoughts and emotions. It's a process that transcends mere pixels on a screen, drawing upon centuries of tradition and craftsmanship.

However, this doesn't diminish the significance of AI in the realm of art. Rather, it expands the possibilities, opening doors to new techniques and approaches that were once unimaginable. AI-generated art is not a threat to traditional methods; it's a complement, a catalyst for pushing the boundaries of creativity ever further.

As I reflect on the past six months, I'm filled with gratitude for the opportunity to explore this fascinating intersection of art and technology. With every brushstroke, whether by hand to canvas or digital, I'm reminded that the true essence of art lies not only in the tools we use but in the stories we tell and the emotions we evoke. And in that sense, AI is not just a tool; it's a partner in the endless pursuit of artistic expression.

Oaxaca Passages, oil on canvas, 40 x 70 cm,    April 2024

Kaleidoscope of Sensual Surprises

Life is a kaleidoscope of sensual surprises.  During travel, I leave familiar surroundings to engage in the unknown and see with fresh eyes, hear with new ears, and think new thoughts. All the while being mesmerized and awed by little revelations. Yet even without going anywhere, the kaleidoscope of patterns, sights, sounds, tastes and smells is always turning; a bite of cold wind across the face, coming indoors to fragrant aromas of cooking foods, hearing the song of a strange bird for the first time, a fabulous sunset or sunrise.

A surprise can be simple and appear like a gift from an unseen hand. I have deep windowsills at home. In my bedroom I placed a model of a sailing ship on a window ledge. Recently, before taking a nap after lunch, I pulled the curtains closed. After rising, I went to the curtains and saw the ships shadows cast upon the fabric. It captured my imagination and I went and got my camera. The rippling folds of cloth were like ocean waves that took my vessel into an etheric sea. Why did I notice it? The winter light and angle of the sun made the picture come to life. Also, I was willing to see . . . because if my emotions and thoughts had been obscuring my perceptions, the little shadow theater would have had no attraction. I had seen it before. Now the elements lined up to capture my senses and I was ready.
 

I like happy accidents and am open to experiencing them during my creative process. Recently, during my month sojourn in Venice, Italy, I fell into a hobby of making photographs of people taking “selfies.” World famous Rialto Bridge was just minutes from my flat. Everyday, thousands of selfies are made there. So whenever I was passing over the bridge, 2 or 3 times a day, I would linger to photograph. Once, I spotted two fellows making a portrait, and surreptitiously became involved with my camera. Just as they were composing, I shot my picture from behind, capturing the subject’s face through the triangle of arm, shoulder and head of the picture taker.

Because I am creative, poems arise from what is garbage to others. One day I was walking on the stone sidewalks of Cuenca, Ecuador. I often look down at the patterns and crevices of the walkways as I sojourn. Something stopped me. A picture had fallen face up onto the grimy patterned  stonework. It was a family portrait of a boy. I noticed how the smiling, lovely face was vulnerable on the dirty sidewalk where it would be stepped on. Why did the scene attract me to take a photograph? Most people would ignore it. I found the incongruity evoked pathos in me. I reflected upon what happens to people in life. The purity of their beginnings fall to earth. At early stages innocence suffers degradation, injury, abandonment, death. Yet the smile and light is in the picture.

Foreigner Gives Way To Friend

I had wanted to be entertained with some laughter before bed, so planned to watch the opening dialogue of The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon. The TV opened on the Public Broadcasting Channel, where I sometimes go to watch the news. The documentary Vietnam, by Ken Burns was playing on PBS. Immediately the film mesmerized me. Although thinking, "no jokes here, not funny," I could not turn away.
There are ten segments to the 18 hour broadcast.

On Dec. 1, 1969, my senior year in high school in Washington DC, the United States held its first military draft lottery of the war. It gave young men a random number corresponding to birthdays—366 per year. Those with lower numbers were called first and told to report to induction centers where they could be ordered into active duty and possibly sent to fight in Vietnam . When the draft started I was too young, but by 1971 I received a draft number 105.

In 1970, when I finished high school I wore my hair long, occasionally smoked pot and considered myself a hippie. I opposed the war in Vietnam. In 1971, my first year at University, I became a member of the Baha'i Faith. The teachings required members to obey their government, but in case of war to serve as a non-combatant, such as medic. The summer of 1972 at an enlistment center in DC, I registered as contentious objector. Thankfully, the war wound down and ended shortly after. I felt a clean conscience, knowing I would not evade duty even though the war repelled me.

The period of war gave rise to stark divisions in America. I knew almost nothing of Vietnam or its people. The slogan "Make love not war" was a common counter-culture refrain on the street. I was against the military/industrial complex.

In 2008 I traveled to Vietnam and spent almost a month, going overland from Saigon (now called Ho Chi Minh City) in the south to the northern capital of Hanoi. I made some close friends and felt warmth among the people, despite being American. ( See my blog post : Beauty and Adventure ).

The next year I went back. ( Mister, What Are You Looking For? )

The documentary brings up many emotions for me. Having been to Vietnam and come to love its people, I can't imagine warring with them.






Mankind is one family. Foreigner gives way to friend when we seek to understand and put aside differences in favor of the stronger bonds of unity.