AI Can't Steal Your Sandwich: A Tale of Art, Learning, and Lunchbox Larceny
Many years ago, when I was living in NYC, I found myself attending free art classes on the serene Roosevelt Island. My mentor, an eccentric Polish teacher, was a spectacle in himself, sporting glasses as large as Scorsese's and a voice that reverberated through the studio. Under his watchful gaze, we delved into the world of portraiture, full body sketches, still lifes, and more. His teaching style was as unconventional as a Picasso, yet it was effective, instilling in us the critical composition concepts required in art.
In the studio, we were all artists, but we were also kids
Amidst the flurry of creativity, there were moments of mischief. Lunchboxes would mysteriously disappear, only to be found in the hands of a grinning classmate.
In the studio, we were all artists, but we were also kids. Amidst the flurry of creativity, there were moments of mischief. Lunchboxes would mysteriously disappear, only to be found in the hands of a grinning classmate. It was all in good fun, a part of the studio's charm.
Yet, the true enlightenment didn't stem from his instructions, but from the vibrant environment that nurtured creativity. It was a space that allowed me to step back from my easel, observe my peers, and appreciate the diversity of interpretations. We were all given the same task, yet each execution was as unique as a fingerprint.
From Jimmy's inexplicably large ears (why Jimmy why?) to Susie's extra-terrestrial six-fingered beings, the studio was a melting pot of creativity, camaraderie, and comic relief. We were all engaged in the same dance, each with our own rhythm, steps, and flair. The contrast and comparison of our work made the teacher's job easier and provided us with a buffet of styles to learn from. “Look at those gorgeous shadows from Hector!” Actually he never said but whatever, this is my story.
I thought such collective learning was a relic of the past until I stumbled upon Midjourney. For those noobs out there, Midjourney can seem like a chaotic, hostile environment. But once you navigate past the initial turbulence, you realize it's akin to being in an art studio, surrounded by a community of creators.
This real-time, artistic, collaborative chaos is a unique experience. We've all grown accustomed to the Google Docs online style of collaboration, but the playfulness that comes with working within a creative collaborative digital environment is a different ball game altogether.
Now, I find myself in the role of a teacher, thanks to two reasons. Firstly, the critical composition concepts I learned in art have found applications in various domains like design, photography, architecture, marketing, fashion, medicine, and engineering. Secondly, Midjourney has become my student. Through my prompts, I guide its artistic journey. I'm not alone in this journey; there are millions of other 'teachers' like me, each guiding their own AI student. The beauty of this platform is that it allows me to learn from others' successful prompts and improve my own teaching skills. It's a collective learning experience that enables me to create things I never thought possible.
While some may fret over deep fakes, I believe they're merely the offspring of shallow realities. The true depth comes from learning in a creative environment that fosters collective creativity, critique, and growth. This is the essence of an art studio, and it's the essence of Midjourney. If you haven't tried it yet, what are you waiting for? It's as close as it gets to being in an art studio, without the risk of someone stealing your lunch.
The true depth of life comes from learning critical concepts and applying them throughout your life. AI can't rob us of this. Remember, the easiest person to fool is yourself. So, if you think AI will steal your lunch without understanding who you are and what you can create, the joke's on you. After all, the best way to predict the future is to create it. So, pick up your brush, or in this case, your keyboard, and start creating.
Let’s go.