Spinning Yarn
Spinning Yarn is the art of fictional storytelling among seafarers who could not just stay on board a ship. There were also good stories that were carried ashore and spun or even written down and printed.
Origin
The term “spinning yarn” has not existed for very long, it has only been known in writing since the early 19th century. It was James Hardy Vaux who, in his work of 1819, reported not only on his experiences as a criminal in England and later as a convict, but also on the storytelling on board the ship that transported him, which he called spinning yarn.
Saturday Night at Sea by George Cruikshank (1792 -1878)
In the 1820s this kind of art was also carried out by Greenwich pensioners and some of them were even published in newspapers under the term Spinning Yarn. But where does this term come from? Seamen often had to spend time repairing ropes on board ships. This is a time-consuming job of twisting fibres together, which was supposedly called "spinning yarn". While repairing ropes, sailors often told each other stories to pass the time. Over time, these stories came to be called "yarn" and the telling of a story came to be called "spinning yarn". Presumably, however, this practice goes back to the Middle Ages, but it is no longer possible to say for sure.
The reason for these stories
First and foremost, they were told to escape boredom and fill the hours of idleness. But the stories also fulfilled other tasks, for one thing they were there to create a bond among the comrades. For although these stories were largely fictional, they contained elements of everyday life, of the family or of one's own life story. Things that everyone on board could relate to and that created a bond.
(x)
The better the story, the higher the reputation and the higher the listenership of the narrator, which in turn could cause some discomfort on the part of the narrator, as the comrades would sometimes give him something extra to tell them an exciting new story. And it increased the likelihood that the story would be passed on ashore, which could also have positive effects for the storytellers.
But the stories also had hidden messages in them, so they could contain a warning about the behaviour towards some officials or criticism of them. But also parts about tired men and extraordinary phenomena. The ghost stories are particularly noteworthy here. They entertained but also had a lasting effect and elevated the narrator a little higher in his position among the men. after all, he was a good man for having experienced it, even if the older ones knew that it was fiction. The younger ones who had not yet had these experiences or were still too young to distinguish fiction from reality.
Yarns that were printed
Some of the stories made it into print for others to enjoy. It is important to distinguish whether the book was written by a Sailor, an author pretending to be a Sailor or an exsailor. Today we would simply put it in the category of adventure stories. But at that time Sailor adventures were something special.
Etchings of a Whaling Cruise, by J. Ross Browne 1846 is a hybrid of a logbook, journal, travelogue and yarn. For there he tells the story of a sailor and his journey on a whaler, later on a whale, and that alcohol is not a friend.
Etchings of a Whaling Cruise, with Notes of a Sojourn on the Island of Zanzibar. by John Ross Browne (1821-1875) - here the ride on a whale
The book was also read with great favour by Herman Melville. Richard Henry Dana Jr. also addresses spinning yarns in his work Two Years before the Mast.
And The Narrative of the Remarkable Occurrences in the Life of John Blatchford by unknown,18th century, but probably Blatchford himself, recounts his life as an American Sailor during the Revolution and his sacrifice for the fledgling US Navy.
Owen Chase (1797-1869), first mate of the Whaler Essex, also tells a story about the famous incident of the Whaler and its tragic fate in his book The Wreck of the Whaleship Essex. In particular, however, he emphasises the cruelty of cannibalism in his book and reports so matter-of-factly that it must have sent shivers down the reader's spine. Whether this is a classic yarn is questioned in research, but the book does not seem to have been written by Chase himself. Rather, it seems to be based on his reports and journal, which makes parts of the whole thing a yarn again, as they probably did not happen as portrayed. The same happens with Moby Dick by Herman Melville, 1851, which takes up the Essex and her story but spins his own adventure out of it.
All these stories had their subtleties, their depths and their morals or even warnings, but a good story brought men together. It relieved boredom and caused astonishment, joy or even goose bumps. Just as we experience today when someone tells us a good adventure. At this point, however, a small warning from me, if you read stories about sailors, be prepared, it could just be a yarn and therefore not necessarily real.
78 notes
·
View notes
QUEST FOR ANCIENT CANTERLOT! An RP : PAGE 2, A New Plate, Old Memories!
Return to MLP Fan Fiction
Return to Role Plays with De Writer
QUEST FOR ANCIENT CANTERLOT!
An RP by @wind-the-mama-cat and @ask-de-writer
Scene setting Part 1 : LUNA AWAKENS CELESTIA
Scene setting Part 2 : AIRSHIP!
Scene setting Part 3 : ONE LAST VISIT
Scene setting Part 4 : SCOUT’S PRIZE
Scene setting Part 5 : REBOOT / START UP
Scene setting Part 6 : CELESTIA AND LUNA GO TO MEET TWILIGHT
PAGE 1, THE ADVENTURE BEGINS!
PAGE 2, NEW PLATE, OLD MEMORIES!
As usual for a developing story, new text is in BOLDFACE type.
© 2021 by @wind-the-mama-cat and @ask-de-writer
Role Play begun 05/26/21
All rights reserved. This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.
///////////////////////
Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users
Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.
All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.
///////////////////////
@wind-the-mama-cat
Learning to Fly
Wind watched as Choco and Rose put their heads together to design the potential wing suit. As she watched, her eyes drifted to Rose's wings. Once upon a time, from what she recalled from her memory files, her Unicorn overlords once tried to give her sisters a means to fly.
She shook her head silently at what she 'remembered”.
One of the Unicorn engineers had come across an ancient picture, which, interestingly, showed the Rom Pegasus Angel with her artificial wing. Using that as a basis, and nothing else, the Usurper King thought it would be a good idea to give the battle droids wings.
The results were disastrous.
During the first round of testing, the wings where too small, as they made them proportionately to Pegasi wings. They lost 20 droids.
The second round of testing went no better. While they made the wings larger, they didn't anticipate the increased power draw. They lost 30 droids.
Dark nudged Wind back to reality.
“Wind?” The black mare asked quietly. “What's on your mind?”
Wind looked down at the mare. “Just recalling somewhat painful memory files.” She nodded at Rose and Choco. “Did I ever tell you how the Unicorns tried to give their droids wings?”
Dark shook her head. “No. You never did. However, we did get reports from Princess Twilight and her scouts about falling droids with reported wings.”
Wind snorted. “The idea had merit, honestly. Instead of using ships to transport the droids, they could simply fly into battle. The way they went about it was foolish and pointless. Now that I think about it, that tends to be how they do most things.”
The earned a chuckle from the small horse.
“Where you thinking of making wings for yourself, Wind?” She asked curiously.
Wind nodded. “Aye. Perhaps.” She tapped her chest. “I'm very heavy. Even with my new legs that you gave me, I still weigh over two hundred pounds. Two hundred and fifty, if we're being specific. The wing suit that those girls are designing won't work on me.”
“So, why don't we design wings that would work for you?” Dark asked. “Thanks to the dismantling of the Renaissance, I have a surplus of material to use for pretty much anything. Even with the demands of the Hammer, I have lots of carbon fibre, copper, steel, aluminum... you name it.”
“Well, a fixed-wing style would work best, I think.” Wind said. “But I don't want permanent wings.”
“So, a backpack that straps to you, and the wings fold up and extend?” Dark asked. “That you can control with your hands?”
“Right.” Wind said with a nod.
Rose's ears quirked. “You guys are designing your own glider?”
Wind sighed. She had forgot how sensitive Rose's ears were. “Now that the cat is out of the bag... yes. Not a wing suit like your design, Rose. More of a backpack shaped glider, like your wings, but not powered.”
Rose thought for a moment. “Well, they would have to be powered. Considering your weight, an unpowered winged glider would have to have a wing span of at least 22 feet.”
Wind and Dark shared a look.
“Yeah. That math checks out.” Wind sighed.
“Now, if you were to power the backpack-glider-thing with a single, central jet turbine, that would provide enough lift for the wings to be smaller.” Rose said. “Not as small as mine, but small enough to fold up.”
“A jet turbine could work.” Wind said in agreement. “Like you wings, I take it?”
Rose nodded. “Only with 3 fans stacked on top of one another, spinning and causing thrust.”
“Right.” Dark nodded. “Really small fans. But how would you power it?”
“Not with my central crystal.” Wind admitted. “It powers me and has a high power output, but I doubt it would power me and a... jet engine.”
Choco was frowning. “This all seems very complicated.”
“I certainly am.” Wind agreed. “As a result of a combination of mechanical parts, crystals – both magic in nature – and Soulblade, I am very complicated.”
“So, why not make your glider like Fenrir?” Choco asked. Upon hearing his name, The wolf stood up from beside Dark's shop and wandered over to the group. The small horse giggled. “Oh, hey Fenrir.”
Dark kneeled in front of the wolf and placed her hand on his cheek. “You're just like Wind, Pup. Technical and magic in nature.”
He blinked slowly at her.
“So, a separate crystal to power my wings.” Wind nodded. “Sounds like a good place to start.” She looked at Dark. “Now, a large egg-sized crystal would be impractical. One the size that powers me would be best.”
Scout giggled. “Except your chest crystal took most of my magic to charge, and it's maintained by your food processing systems.” She pointed out. “A jet pack with wings would require more power.”
“Well, my crystal is the size of a lemon... and Fenrir's is the size of a dragon egg. So...” Wind thought out loud. “Say somewhere in between.”
“A phoenix egg.” Dark said. “As for charging it? We can use my solar charger. It worked for Fenrir after all.”
“Right.” Scout said. “We can all work together on this project. If Wind is going to be testing this new technology, and Choco is going to be testing hers, safety is paramount. Lots of prototypes and testing and scale models, just like Dark said earlier.”
The five girls got to work on their glider project. Rosie and Choco worked on their wing suit, while Dark, Wind and Scout work on theirs. Occasionally, the two groups would stop and share notes, and miniature models, and other ideas.
Eventually, after a week of testing, Choco's first prototype suit was ready for a test flight.
Wind's jetpack however was far from ready, as it was more complicated.
On the morning of the day that Choco was ready to go up, with Rosie's help, that is, Dark got a call on her mirror.
“This is Dark.” She greeted the other Rom.
“Dark? This is Nala of the Topographical and Plate Locator Scout Team.” Nala greeted. “We discovered a new plate, just below plate 16. We're calling it plate 17 for now. It's three plates below your plate.”
Dark nodded. “Have you scouted it yet?”
“Not yet.” Nala answered. “It's mostly desert. Naturally desert, to be honest. Not like the desert plate like plate 1, which formed when the unicorns took the water with them during the shift.”
“Wait.” Dark said suddenly. “Are you saying that plate 17 is originally desert?”
“We are.” Nala nodded. “It does have a stream however, which wasn't affected by the shift either, surprisingly.”
Dark blinked. “Well... that means...” She nodded. “Don't worry about scouting that plate. I'll go and scout it myself.”
“Roger that, Dark.” Nala smiled. “Nala out.”
Wind and the others looked at Dark. “Dark?”
The small mare smiled coyly. “Wind... you have Wind's memories. What's the one location that is desert, but has enchanted water that no magic can affect?”
“The desert that the Rom originated from.” Wind answered. “Where...”
Dark smiled when Wind trailed off. “Marchhare's original resting place.”
“Whoa.” The gathered Rom gasped.
“We'd have to go and look for ourselves.” Dark said. “But I'll bet a hundred bits that it is there somewhere.”
“Isn't that also the location of the Lost Wood mines?” Choco asked. “It's a story that we Forest Horses grew up on.”
Dark shrugged. “I'll have to go and see.” She looked at Wind. “Wind? I'll need you to come too. Your scanning systems and memories will help me.”
Rosie nodded. “That makes sense. As old as I am, I won't really be of help. Besides, I want to stay here and work on my suit.”
Scout pouted. “And since Midnight has me on stress-rest, I can't go either.” Wind smiled and hugged her.
Dark smiled. “We'll have to hire a glider team.” She looked at De Writer as he, Tia and Midnight came wandering over to help with the glide test.
“Some good news, De Writer...” Dark said as she explained the call she just got.
@ask-de-writer
Old De Writer thoughtfully stroked his beard as he thought through the news. Nodding, he agreed, “That MIGHT be a portion of the old Sunset Mountains and Celestia's Anvil. The many disruptions caused by the Shattering did actually open some new springs, so what was seen might not be Sha Ja Shehan.
“There appears to be a modest river with a valley on the opposite side from the observed desert. It would not be at all unlikely that it is part of the old Red Branch and fed by the Maze. If so, it could even hold Morton's Swale and the ancient Wood Mines.”
The others were staring at him and slowly realizing what they knew but never really had to grasp. The amazement showed on their faces as it came home to them just how ancient De Writer was. He was speaking of those places and times as if they were recent memories. Places and times that were lost in the mists of time, thousands of years BEFORE the Shattering.
Choco looked over to Dark, whose eyes had gone puffy with tears and slowly sorted out, “Dark, if you find Marchhare's Lake, do you think that maybe he is there?”
Wings shuddering with suppressed sobbing, Dark sat and shook her head. “No, Choco, not really. After he came back from the Lake of Paradise, we could never speak to him at his Lake.” She gave a slightly broken smile as she snickered at the memory, “Unless he was right there beside us laying a stone for himself. The first time that he did that the Rom had been on the Roads of Equestria for 844 years. He thought that laying a stone for himself was a great joke!”
Putting her face in her hands, she wailed, “I miss him so much!”
Choco looked on helplessly. Knowing that Dark was immortal did not prepare her for the consequence of carrying grief that could last five hundred years and still be this raw. She quietly sorted out that Immortality had some serious drawbacks.
Midnight crouched down and simply wrapped Dark in her midnight blue wings, holding her and gently rocking the weeping pegasus.
She murmered, “We know, Dear, we know. Tia and I Laid the Stones for him ourselves. Sometimes with him along side us, cracking a joke. He was always serious about the actual Stone Laying and saying that he was glad that we were taking such good care of his bones.”
Dark looked up from her crying and wondered, “Even if we find the right place, will there be anything left? Five hundred years is a long time for his bones to be un attended. He could just be weathered away to nothing.”
It was Tia who thoughtfully answered that. “Dark, dear, if nothing else has scattered his bones but weathering, there should still be traces. Teeth should last and some other larger, heavier portions of bone. His harness had metal fittings. As dry as that area always was and, according to scouting reports, still is, those should still remain.
“There is another there that we might find as well. On the old river course side of the mountains was the Wayside where Sando went to the Lake. Finding him would be a wonderful treasure.”
Dark nodded slowly, “That is true. If this is the right plate, it holds a number of treasures, some of them are more valuable than just physical things.”
De Writer looked about and suggested, “We are going to need a big cargo glider to carry this crowd. I suggest that we all set up packs of supplies for exploring and then contact Air Trafic Control to see about getting a large enough glider to carry this expedition.”
It was Midnight who pointed out, “We mustn't forget to take along at least a pair of Stones. One for Sando's Lake and one for Marchhare's. It has been too long since they got that simple bit of respect and our love for them.”
Dark had to grin and pretend to calculate, “Let's see, five hundred years, at at least two visits a year, that makes about a thousand stones EACH. Me, Wind, De Writer, Midnight, Tia, and Choco makes about SIX THOUSAND STONES to carry. I don't think that there is any glider on any Rom plate that can carry that much along with us and our supplies!”
Midnight snickered and suggested, “Maybe we that have wings could carry the stones, IF we flap REALLY HARD. Then, the glider could be a lot smaller!”
De Writer snorted, “If you all were mimes, you couldn't find your way out of a box that isn't there! Let's all go and pack for the trip.”
Back at De Writer's Fair, the old pony quietly took Dark into his arms and gently rocked the small black pegasus. Softly, he offered, “All of us that knew him, miss him dreadfully, Dark. I wish that I could tell you that he will be there, waiting for us at his Lake. Not even I can tell you that without a lie. Wherever he has gone, I am certain of one thing. He knows how much you love him.”
She quietly sniffled, “I do know that, De Writer. It must sound really nutty to say this, but I want to show him how much I love him by playing Poison Grandpa one more time.”
De Writer nodded gravely as he agreed, “I actually do understand that, Dark, my dear. With you, it makes perfect sense.
“Now, about packing for this little expedition. We are going to need cartographic equipment and supplies to map the new plate. Let's see, a first aid kit, a tent and sleeping bags. Anything else?”
Dark grinned her shark like grin and retorted, “Food. You don't really need it and I can survive without it, being immortal, but I really detest starving.”
De Writer snorted, “Right. It is a comfortable habit and the others might not really like it if we forget it. Some of them will starve without it and Tia and Midnight just recovered from starving for five hundred years. They might not appreciate doing it again so soon.”
Dark was quickly to work packing things into neat bundles. She casually added a pair of picks and shovels. “Might need to dig some if that plate is where the old wood mines ended up. Could be useful for other things as well.”
TO BE CONTINUED
Return to MLP Fan Fiction
Return to Role Plays with De Writer
Scene setting Part 1 : LUNA AWAKENS CELESTIA
Scene setting Part 2 : AIRSHIP!
Scene setting Part 3 : ONE LAST VISIT
Scene setting Part 4 : SCOUT’S PRIZE
Scene setting Part 5 : REBOOT / START UP
Scene setting Part 6 : CELESTIA AND LUNA GO TO MEET TWILIGHT
PAGE 1, THE ADVENTURE BEGINS!
PAGE 2, NEW PLATE, OLD MEMORIES!
8 notes
·
View notes
Thoradin: 58, 55, 54, 51, 46, 34
How many hobbies have they attempted to have over their lifetime? Is there a common theme?
Hmm, let's see. I'm not counting music as a hobby, since as a bard that's Thoradin's living, but let's see...he learned to knit pretty early on, because it was a useful, practical skill to have and his mother wanted to teach one of her children, and Thoradin wasn't good at much else. I think he started writing on his own - first stories, before moving on to poetry and then songs, but that comes under the bardic arts and thus is more of a professional concern. After ending up on the road, he got into the habit of repairing his own clothes in a hurry, and picked up embroidery as an easy way of covering over mends, stains and other such hazards of life on the road. He's also a reader, with a wide and eclectic range of interests, but a particular fondness for adventure novels, although this was more prominent as part of his character before setting out on his own adventures and after being forced to retire. He keeps a pretty meticulous journal, too, including a few sketches of things that catch his eye.
So...prone to creative pursuits, with a taste for fibre crafts that is mostly practical, but nonetheless something he genuinely enjoys, and a fondness for pursuits with some elements of storytelling to them. Pretty standard for a bard, I know, but there it is.
What’s something they’re expected to enjoy based on their hobbies / profession that they actually dislike / hate?
Womanising (well, manising in his case) and casual sex, which everyone expects of a bard to the point where there are several 'horny bard' options in the special dialogue. He's not judgey about it, but it's just never been his thing. While Thoradin has had a fair few partners in his life, that's because he's a hopeless romantic who keeps falling fast and hard, often for the worst possible people who never quite lived up to what he wanted to see in them. He wants true love and passion and happily-ever-after, and is quite willing to delude himself about the character of his partners in order to get it, right up until he actually met and fell in love with just the kind of noble knight-in-shining-armour type he'd sort of given up on the idea actually existed.
What’s their instinct in a fight / flight / freeze / fawn situation?
Fight. Thoradin might be a bard, and maybe not the best in a fight, but when he's scared he'll dig his heels in and fight his corner even if his odds aren't great. It does mean he has a tendency to escalate fights he might have got out of under other circumstances, and it definitely contributed to his fight with his parents escalating to the point where he hasn't spoken to them in more than a decade because he feels like he has to show them he made it despite all they said...but there it is. He's surprisingly scrappy for a fussy, well-dressed bard, though perhaps not so surprisingly for a dwarf.
What’s a phrase they say a lot?
He will often describe himself as 'happy as a bird on a bright morning' when things are going well, or sarcastically when things are going badly. Honestly, he uses a lot of emotional metaphors in general, but that one is a favourite. His ways of describing bad moods are rather more varied, and often a lot funnier.
Are they a listener or a talker? If they’re a listener, what makes them talk? If they’re a talker, what makes them listen?
Very definitely a talker. Thoradin talks professionally, after all, and you can't be a bard unless you like to perform. And Thoradin is something of a chatterbox naturally anyway. If it seems like anyone else has an interesting story to hear, however, he'll be absolutely rapt listening. Admittedly, probably figuring out how he'd best tell it (he won't do it unless he gets permission - unlike some dwarven bards, he understands boundaries about that sort of thing - but he likes to figure it out anyway), but still rapt. He'll probably still ask questions, admittedly.
How do they greet someone they like / love?
Very warmly. Thoradin's a flowery endearments person, and he's very affectionate with people he likes. Mostly verbally, though. Hugs are somewhat awkward when your head is roughly level with most of your friends' groins, unless they kneel down, and you can't really rely on that, so verbal affection is a much better bet.
1 note
·
View note
AI Art Shenanigans
I like to use Midjourney to visually workshop 'toons I can't get a lock onto, outside of their personality or motivations. I figured I'd share a few weird or interesting outcomes.
Long-Ass Post Below. Clicky.
And no, I'm not reopening the AI Art can of worms, using Midjourney doesn't make me a visual artist, it just makes me a dabbler in the greater field of pictorial art. It's about at the level of being three years old and making gouache splotches on canvas, except the splotches at least look like something.
Let's open with the best one I've got, which I've been calling The Diplomat.
This is the result of my realizing that Midjourney really likes repetition. That post I made about butchering a description of the Mona Lisa? I got to this level of detail by taking on fifteen superlatives to "older mustachioed man smoking a cigar". Some of these made sense, but others were oddly specific. How does adding fibre optic as a non-specified detail help with overall image composition? I don't know how, but it strangely does.
Here's the four source images that led to the first one on the top left earning the right to an upscale. It's there that I noticed that in AI terms, upscaling isn't so much a question of resolution as it's a question of detail. You'll notice that the Diplomat has two missing medals on his lapel, a more extravagant 'stache -
And horribly bungled fingers. I've tried Midjourney, DALL-E 2, Wombo and a few others, and all of them are uniquely bad at rendering human hands convincingly. In the best cases, the first five digits are realistically positioned, but the AI tacks on sixth or seventh ones because... I don't know. Humans = Fingers, maybe, so it emphasizes that somehow?
Asking for a full-body shot of the gentleman in question gets me what feels like a crossover between Ebenezer Scrooge, a Jojo's Bizarre Adventure Stand and an Attack on Titan baddie, as reviewed by Clive Barker:
That's - how many abs, Midjourney? And what's with the fingers, again? I count seven fingers on the exposed hand. SEVEN! Props on the design, otherwise, as it's a Very Anime Old Man, with a touch of Cenobite Kink, which is unique - but not entirely what I'd asked for. I don't hate it, but it's wholly unrelated to the source image, no matter how many re-renders I went through by pumping up the source's Image Weight value. For the uninitiated, "Image Weight" tells Midjourney how much an expected output needs to look like the input. The max value is 5, and I'd set it at 5.
It could be worse, though. MJ could more or less shit the bed and decide to go Diablo on the source:
Yikes. This guy has all the fingers and looks like he flays innocent souls in some -nth Circle of Hell for a living. He's probably uptight and sounds like Tim Curry at his pre-stroke gooiest.
Let's change topics. I've got Christmas on the brain, so let's spawn some Santas...
I particularly liked the ones on the right column, so I had these upscaled...
I'm amazed at how MJ takes to the basic concept of "Santa Claus" and manages to not only keep to the idea, but also riffs off of the shape at the first generation level! The one up top doesn't follow the expected color scheme, and you can still clearly identify him. The one below is a bit more traditional but, once again, Midjourney struggles with a few details. Santa's hands are a mess in both versions, and his toque's white pompom is just floating on the back of his head, in the second one. The first one keeps its lit.. spindly cigar thing somewhere below where his mouth should be, and the second one seems to be chomping on some sort of small wand while holding his stogie.
Insofar, I'm left with the impression that AI art isn't the big boogeyman we've heard about; not when all the pieces I've shown could benefit from human-piloted touch-up efforts - and an extensive re-training of its model on human extremities...
What's really interesting to me, though, is that The Diplomat is the product of my searching for an elegantly,dressed Mind Flayer smoking a cigar. I'll grant Midjourney's team the fact that Illithids are Niche Nerd Shit and that it's not totally absurd for an AI model to confuse facial tentacles for a mustache; but I would've liked something a little closer to the prompt. As said above, though, I still really like the final result.
And for comparison's sake, here's DALL-E 2 taking a crack at the same exact prompt. Note the more plasticky render - and its ability to render an actual squid-face, for once!
So, do I think the artists of Tumblr are in mortal peril? I'd say they aren't - most artists I know do a better job at drawing hands than any AI has, even when they falter or stumble in the process. For those of us who can't draw, though, this is a pretty useful tool to get ideas flowing.
3 notes
·
View notes