Doing That Hand Thing Today
I’ve been traveling for the holidays. I expect to be home momentarily, which should be nice. As much as I want to say it will be nice, my inner-stoic insists I have no way of knowing what I’ll arrive home to or even if I’ll make it all the way there. Based on previous experience, I’ll likely arrive safely at my apartment, which will be in about the same shape as when I left it, and it will be nice to be there. However, I can’t be sure.
Of course, I don’t actually work through that entire thought process whenever I make a plan or envision the future. Such thinking spins wildly out of control with variables and probabilities, knowns and unknowns, all requiring consideration. Instead, I rely heavily on the heuristics: probably, maybe, and probably not.
I’ve been experimenting with generative AI doodles while I’m on the road. I approach them like chance operations,1 in which I input largely nonsensical prompts centered on a theme and then select the most interesting outputs for refinement. I especially like weird hands.2
I used to imagine using AI-generated images as inspiration for paintings, but now it’s very difficult to imagine myself painting at all. My aging eyes find no joy in squinting over small works with subtle brushstrokes. If I ever get back into painting, it will be to splatter, smush, and scrape colorful goops across large canvases. And for that, I’d need a studio with space to move around and freedom to make a tremendous mess that I don’t have to clean up any time soon. Someplace like La Ribaute, perhaps.3
Fortunately, the creative impulse is multimodal. Maybe I’ll make prints and collages out of them someday. When I get home.
