For Real [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

What is real? It’s not so easy to answer this very simple question these days. With A-I manufacturing videos and images that seem real, with foreign interference in our elections, with a pathological liar about to once again take the national bully pulpit and a propaganda fox willing to magnify his hooey, with people believing tik-tok, X and instagram are sources of news…it is damn hard to know what is real. It’s damn hard to believe the dull-witted-ness in ascendence.

Who is real? This is a much more complex question. A heartbreaking question.

Post election we’re everywhere seeing and hearing from the maga-madcaps the phrase , “Family over politics”. Yet, a vote for the despot-elect was a vote against my son who is gay. A vote for the rapist-in-chief was a vote against my daughter’s rights. It was a vote against my wife’s rights. She was raped so it’s not a small thing to her that half the nation, including family and friends, seem okay to look the other way. To minimize his multiple sexual assaults as locker room talk. She feels deeply in her body – her soul – the national endorsement of rape. The national assent of sexual violence.

Every time she sees the phrase,”Family over politics,” Kerri hisses, “Back-at-you!” Real family, real friends would have thought to protect our children’s health and well-being before voting against them. They would have thought to protect our nation from an avowed fascist with retribution fantasies; they would have thought before voting against basic morality. They would have had the simple dignity to consider the sexual predation, the pathological lying and gross indecency of their candidate. Instead, they cheered. They voted for it. It’s left us nauseous with the question, “Are you for real?”

They put politics (if you can call it that) over family (if you can call it that). For real.

read Kerri’s blogpost about WHAT IS REAL

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Barnacle And Beauty [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Let me describe the present moment. It is morning. A gentle rain is falling outside, tap-tapping a steady rhythm on the gutters and pools in the driveway. The window is open just enough so the smell of new rain is carried on a slight cool breeze. We sit, feet beneath the quilt, writing. Dogga was asleep in his favorite spot at the doorway but must have sensed I was about to write about him. He stretched, yawned, groaned, and jumped up on the bed. He nestled in and is once again asleep. Oh, yes, and there is coffee.

I was compelled to write about the present moment because I just read to Kerri an article in the New York Times about the social side of artificial intelligence. AI companions. At first it begged the question, “What is real?” but then I caught my prejudice. Are the conversations I have in my head real? Are my perceptions of the world real? Why should the conversations people are having with their AI companions be any less real than the nonsense that daily runs through my noggin? There is, according to the report, an epidemic of loneliness in these un-United States and true companionship is, apparently, hard to come by. It smacks to me of another layer on the bubble: people create their AI companions and AI companions learn how to respond to their creators from their creators…

There was no filter used to capture this pink-purple sky. It’s one of the things I appreciate about Kerri’s urge to aim her camera. She rarely attempts to alter the image. To make it something else. She is drawn to photograph the present moment with all of its flaws and barnacles. And beauty and grace.

Last night, during our 3am banana-and-trail-fest, we bumbled into a series of videos: people who have decided to live off the grid yet are documenting and sharing their homesteading process on YouTube. We’ve been following Martijn Doolaard for a few years and delight in the travels of Foresty Forest and his dog Rocko. Alternate lives. Old world craftsmen-and-women using-but-not-lost-in the wonders of new world technology. Sense-making.

My 3am revelation? I’m drawn to these people because of the balance they seek to establish: hands and feet firmly rooted in the traditions of dirt and toil and presence, while at the same time appreciating and using technology to capture their present moment. To share. To create. To suggest to us 3am sleep-deprived watchers that there is, indeed, a balance to be struck. No need to get lost. Barnacles and beauty available during this time of intense change.

meander/as it is © 2004 kerri sherwood

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read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SKY

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Join The Kerfuffle [on Two Artists Tuesday]

Rob and I have been having a text conversation about AI. For him, an Orwellian curtain is descending. For me it’s a pattern: progress that pushes people into the unknown always ignites a kerfuffle.

Months ago Skip suggested that I jump into the dialogue raging around phrase engineering for AI. Basically, people learning better ways to ask the technology for more efficient and effective results. As a visual artist and a writer, he believed I might be able to stand with a foot in both evolving camps. Cross disciplines. I thought about it. Read everything I could find. I decided against. As an artist, someone who’s taken his artistry into the wilds of organizations, education, change initiatives, DEI, intercultural communication, coaching, software start-ups…a cross-pollinator – I’ve shouted my perceptions at the top of my lungs but rarely found ears that would or could listen. Why should an engineer listen to an artist? Why should a CEO give credence to a theatre artist? There are many many reasons. The notion of doing the same old thing in the same old way in a new context made me…tired.

What is a new way?

I’ve read that the mission of the industrial age was to create technology capable of sparing or lessening human physical labor. The mission of the information age is to create technology capable of sparing us from the rigors of thought. All in service of making life easier.

My last exchange with Rob led me back to Neil Postman’s short forward to his book Amusing Ourselves To Death. “Huxley feared we’d become a trivial culture…” Rereading the forward I thought, “Spot on”. Among the many upsides, having something or someone else think for you definitely has a downside.

Perhaps our AI era will hold up a mirror so we might better see ourselves as part-of rather than separate-from. Perhaps all the space we gain in our brainpans, as we are spared the rigors of thought, will open new frontiers. It always has in the past. In a miracle of biomimicry, one of Skip’s creations in our start-up was a social network view: a visual of personal connectivity, an active map of all the people a user communicates with. The lines of connectivity were profoundly meaningful to me. The ability to see the thriving network active in my working life was a revelation. A pulsing flower, a wild carrot of interconnectivity. I appreciated my peers – my support system – in new ways because I could see them. My social network view made it undeniable: nothing I do, nothing I think, is independent of my community. We create.

Growth and learning is always in the direction of the unknown. Whether we realize it or not, even amidst the greatest kerfuffle, we take these bold steps together.

read Kerri’s blogpost about WILD CARROT

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Bring It On! [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

My favorite Smack-Dab cartoons are drawn directly from our conversations. This one happened verbatim. We howled when Siri replaced our “wilty” with “wealthy”. I’m shallow enough to admit that I hope to someday experience the challenge of being un-hire-aable because I am too wealthy. “We’d hire you Mr. Robinson but you’re too stinking rich”.

I’m already familiar with the wilty part.

This is, perhaps, the only time I will suggest that you keep your comments to yourself. Unless, of course, you have suggestions about making me too wealthy to hire. In that case, bring it on!

read Kerri’s blogpost about WILTY

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Embrace The Accident [on Two Artists Tuesday]

I am a big believer in happy accidents. Kerri didn’t intend to take this photo. A vibrant shock of red thrust into a field of green. I’m tempted to slap a title on it and enter it into a contemporary photography exhibition.

I’ve read that serendipity, an “unplanned fortunate discovery,…is a common occurrence throughout the history of product invention and scientific discovery.” It’s also a common occurrence throughout the history of art. It’s also a common occurrence throughout the history of…history. We have experiences and then we make meaning of them. Not the other way around.

I suppose we pride ourselves on our capacity “to know” so we forget that all knowledge is the result of a stumble, a discovery found at the far end of curiosity, exploration or an outright mistake. The point of a hypothesis (to borrow a term from Quinn) is to cultivate serendipity. Try it and see what happens.

I’ve been following the conversation in the tech-o-sphere about the sudden blossom of the very lucrative job “phrase engineer.” Human beings attempting through trial and error to learn how best to converse with the technology we’ve created. AI. ChatGpt. The unspoken goals are (not surprisingly) efficient and effective communication. There are now several sites with useful phrases, conversational hints, Youtubes abound with guidance for best ways to ask better questions, quickly eliciting the best result: an answer. It’s glorious and reminds me of old 3rd grade language primers or my high school foreign language class – only more enthusiastic.

I am among the millions who hope beyond hope that someone-out-there bumbles into the secret of effective communication. Perhaps if we discover how to communicate with artificial intelligence there will be a profound blowback and we will, serendipitously, discover the secret of easy communication with each other. Generosity. Empathy. Kindness. How-you-say-what-you-say matters.

“AI, tell me what you see and I will listen with an open mind and heart.” I know, I know. More pie-in-the-sky. But as a dedicated believer in happy accidents, I’m given to think that anything is possible.

read Kerri’s blogpost about RED ON GREEN

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Unlock Her Mind [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

This cartoon strip would be funny if it wasn’t so true. I talk her into a stupor on a weekly basis. I’m an introvert so have rarely thought of myself as “too much,” but coming out of a monologue to find her dazed-into-submission has opened my eyes. Apparently, when on a roll, I can be like cold rain to the Tin Man.

The key to bringing her back from mind-lock-up is to first guide her to a comfy chair and then I play a terrible chord on her piano. I’m also gifted at producing grating chords. The chair is necessary because the jarring sound could possibly make her momentarily lose consciousness.

Once she’s sufficiently snapped-out-of-it, I’ve learned NOT to ask if she heard a word I said. Because she usually comes back into her body screaming the question, “WHAT’S THAT TERRIBLE SOUND?” I want her to believe “the terrible sound” is the awful chord and not my overly-generous monologue. So my pat response is, “What sound?”

When guilty of a mind-numbing monologue, the best path forward is to pretend that it never happened. Answer her question with a question. Play dumb and don’t say another word.

[Kerri’s response after I read her this post: “You make up so much sh*t!”. True. Too true.]

read Kerri’s blogpost on this saturday morning smack-dab.

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