You know the drill. In the last episode I did of this series, I said the next one would be coming shortly, huh?
Yeah, right. I lied. These come out when they come out.
You know the drill. In the last episode I did of this series, I said the next one would be coming shortly, huh?
Yeah, right. I lied. These come out when they come out.
Here’s another linkdump—a list of links to stuff I thought was interesting but likely won’t get to properly reviewing any time soon.1
I reserve the right to more fully review any of these article at a later date, of course. (Though at this point, it’s extremely unlikely to ever happen.)
I’ve started thinking a little bit about creativity in the context of AI. If you’ve known me for several years, you might be aware that I’m really not a fan of the word “creativity” or of its noun and adjective form “creative”. I’ve mellowed on it a little bit over the years, but generally speaking I still believe that it’s a wildly misused buzzword with dubious meaning in the average colloquial setting, and that lots of people actually have no idea what creativity is. It really bothers me when people conflate creativity with artistic ability, or when people act like it’s some sort of gene you either have or don’t, instead of understanding that it’s a skill you can improve. But in a lot of ways, it’s the best word we have, and so I’m going to use it today.
I think there might be people out there who think I’m a poet, and I think it’s terrifying. I haven’t been a poet since my middle school days of writing rhyming couplets about hating school and my early high school days of writing terrible prose with line breaks. In hindsight, I’m pretty sure the main reason I wrote so many poems in grade nine was because my teacher seemed to have no idea how to grade poems but very strong opinions about fiction, and I felt like I was terrible at writing fiction and wanted a shot at a decent grade. Man, high school was such a great time.
I’ve always been a quantity over quality artist, and what I mean by this is that rather than being intentional about what I’m doing or meticulously planning things, I typically make a lot of garbage and hope for the best. This isn’t a particularly efficient way of working, but I personally find it quite effective. There are three main benefits of half-assing my art process that I would like to point out here: