A decade ago, which seemingly feels like a lifetime ago, I can recall an indescribable sense of wonder and curiosity I had as a child.
The simple sensation of allowing my paintbrush to slide and slowly dance across a blank canvas, was so therapeutic and always remains a powerful tool to express myself and the weight of the world.
At the age of four, surrounded by action figures, crayons and blank sheets of paper, I discovered that soon as I could sketch a house, a garden and a few stick figures, I knew I had found a passion that felt rewarding and soothing.
Despite the breathless rush of early mornings, traffic jams and tight schedules at school where we would flock to our classrooms like farm animals, shifting from economics class to biology, I found drawing to be an endless escape from the chaos that parades outside our homes as well as the stress that haunts our conscience.
Whether I was doodling on my exam pad, reimagining famous Dragonball Z characters and occasionally catching the wrath of some of my teachers who would rip apart a drawing I was obsessing over and chuck it in the bin. I knew I had a gift.
A refuge from a polluted world that no-one could touch or defile.
However sad I may have felt at seeing my artwork being ripped to shreds in front of my classmates as an angsty adolescent, I quickly understood the beauty of art still eludes some who may be navigating the currents of wealth and work and the stress of their own tumultuous personal lives.
Often, creatives are misunderstood, labeled as “uncompromising” or “unfiltered” with at times little care to understanding the depth of the way we think and feel and how it enriches our art.
At times I would struggle to focus on subjects such as accounting or mathematics which I found uninteresting and would daydream and doodle, creating a colourful world before my eyes that gave my young life a meaning, a purpose on my own terms.
Often the young aren’t allowed many liberties to pursue their “hobbies” as careers and thus fall back into safer career choices, hence they hush their inner-child in order to grow up and to find a job that can sustain a living and a roof over their heads.
The fears, responsibilities and burdens our parents carry to provide for us as their children is understandable, but sometimes their fears for us can slowly swallow us, leaving little confidence in our dreams they can’t envision as we do.
Therefore, the mere act of pursuing our goals is a silent and at times loud protest against the cold reality, inner doubts and critics in our families and friends.
And yet I found that a resilient spirit, a dedication and passion to your craft can open doors over time you may have thought wouldn’t open for you.
In this ever-shifting world where Artificial Intelligence (AI) is speeding up our lives despite being sold us as tool to lighten our loads, it’s becoming evident it’s a shortcut to boosting profit by flooding the market with content.
Whether it’s photographs, music or film, I find AI generated art too polished, radio-ready and commercial. It’s nauseating with little care for taste or deeper curiosity.
I love the word saccharine, an expression for when something is excessively sweet or when someone is “too-polite”, as a metaphor for exploring this golden age of technology where we can “prompt” our ideas and satisfy our ego’s with a click of a button.
Eating too many sweet treats cannot only decay your teeth and cause headaches but can lead to diabetes and death.
In this case, it’s crucial we protect that childlike wonder when one colours beyond the borders, when “those mistakes” become a signature of being human before we ignore our individuality, our brand, in the pursuit of profit and before we know it, becoming part of the AI-slop in the fear of missing out on the latest gold rush of the 21st century.
