My Work = The Anti-AI

I've been thinking a lot lately about AI, or artificial intelligence.

Forgive me, but I'm one of the few that isn't jumping on the hype wagon. Until recently, I wasn't able to pinpoint if it was just because I am contrarian on so many other things that seem to have become almost conventional wisdom: the unavoidable electricification of all vehicles, the absolute necessity for every single COVID booster, the need to hoard gold bars, etc.

Then, when I saw this image at the top of an article someone on LinkedIn was begging me to click and read (for some unintelligible business reason), it hit me.

AI is dumb. It's lazy. It's empty. It's embarrassing.

Dumb AI

If you happen to be the person responsible for asking a souless set of algorithms to render the above collage for you, accept my apologies. You are one of just several million content creators who now seemingly feel the need to do more, post more, beg more... It's nothing personal.

But, I have to wonder: does anyone even look at these images before hitting submit? This example image, at the very first glance, looks decently plausible. But upon further examination, there are several instances of men sitting in women's laps, words spelled hopelessly wrong, perspectives and scales off to a measure a toddler could recognize.

It's sad. We can do better.

Let's demand a world of real things, with real meaning.

Take my handmade artwork for instance (nice segue, eh?)

Silhouette Map of the USA

It's made using REAL, tangible objects, with meaning and worth—past and present. Wood that has existed for generations, metal plates someone affixed by hand to vehicles they treasured and cared about before the world went digital and got too busy to notice stupid errors and board room members sitting on top of one another.

My work hearkens back to a time when something worth making and slaving away for several days to create invited contemplation. When you look at one of my maps, for example, it doesn't take much imagination to be taken back to a different time and place on a far-off dusty road, with the windows rolled down and the sun streaming in, as you look over at the person next to you in the passenger seat and talk about the day.

No phones, no streaming services, no pop up ads besieging you to buy more, acquire more, somehow be more. Just general stores owned by locals flying by, trucks pulling on their horns at your command, and green mile markers counting down the distance to the next state's welcome sign.

Each piece I create gives new life to an objects whose current usefulness has slowly drawn to a close. A mashup of old things, springing forth in a new format that will grab the attention of viewers for the next couple hundred years.

These vapid AI-generated images won't stand the test of thirty seconds, much less of time ongoing. In the race to create things more and quickly without a second thought, let's not forget to hold on to things with real meaning and significance. With back stories, rust, bends and blemishes. With ties to the past, cut and formed into new shapes that reach into the future.

Like I said at the top, my work is the anti-AI. Something you can reach out and touch (careful, those metal edges are sharp—I can personally testify to that.)

Let me know what I can make for you that is REAL.