I always underestimate how easy it can be to entertain a teenager. I have this preconception that small kids find everything fun even mundane stuff while teens are jaded and self-conscious and need elaborate or cool activities, but my teen cousins are visiting this week and when they arrived I was in the greenhouse having an issue with the filter in one of the tanks, so I asked them if they could catch all the fish from one tank and move them to the other tank, and they were delighted to be given little dip nets and sit on the edge of the tank to hunt fish for 20min. As I asked them to do it I was thinking, it’s like those duck-fishing fairground games from when they were toddlers, they’ll probably think it’s a bit cringe, and five minutes into it these jaded teenagers were like, hey it’s like duck fishing at the funfair when we were toddlers, I've missed it, it’s fun :D
4K notes
·
View notes
at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.
you create because you're greedy.
18K notes
·
View notes
i really like how canonically yuu is genuinely supportive of grim wanting to be a great mage. if i recall correctly, even character voice lines point this out. and it seems like yuu dotes on grim a lot and defends him too??? yuu even encourages grim's ambitions whenever he declares wanting to be a great mage. and also when he does that boss-henchhuman dynamic. i mean yeah you can interpret it as yuu saying that being condescending and sarcastic as if they're talking to a child saying "when i grow up i want to be famous!" but like. i really think they're genuine when mc loves grim in their own way.
even if grim is usually a menace, he's become like family to yuu.
and i'm pretty sure grim feels the same way.
think about it this way. despite all the mess, all the unpredictability, the danger, and all the drama being in nrc. what's always the constant? yuu goes home at the end of the day to the ramshackle dorm (basically their home at this point considering they slowly but surely fix it up over time) and with who? “the great mage” grim. as the sole outcasts in that academy, they both sleep soundly knowing they will always have each other at the end of the day.
1K notes
·
View notes
do you think the obsession with ‘style consistency’ in online art communities is mostly caused by this idea that your art style needs to be easily marketable & recognizable as a brand (especially when you’re working as a freelancer). i see the /least/ amount of progress in my art whenever i try to aim for style consistency. i don’t know exactly where i’m going with this but i think there’s some sort of connection between trying to monetize/market your art & limiting your growth as an artist. and i think it’s very sad.
27K notes
·
View notes