
It has been brought to my attention by family members, friends, and even some readers that my current use of the AI Mirror program to edit my artwork is really overwhelming my personal style with its anime filter. The smiling anime face on the cheerleader is a good example. The eyes are bigger than I would have chosen to make them in a colored-pencil rendering. The nose is too small, and if I highlight it on the previous layer it makes it show up in the final, but still too small. What I like about it is the way it makes the highlights and shadows on her flesh and her clothes so much more accurate to the light source than I can do even with the digital stylus. But I am noticing more and more that the AI tends to do what it wants to the picture more than it does what I want. Even though I layered my drawing over a photo and traced it before coloring, the AI made changes that were not needed. I get that I leave openings on the face for interpretation because I am not trying to make an identifiable portrait. But it even makes the logo on the top of the uniform into something far more unreadable than the “Iowa” that was there. I get that it refuses to copy logos and copyrighted stuff, but that isn’t really the case in this picture. I realize I am trading some of my control as an artist for the good things the AI can do to correct the problems my arthritis makes. But I am really no happier with the situation than some of my critics. I only rely on the AI because it allows me to draw more and more frequently than I can with pencils, pen, and paper. This Devil’s bargain allows me to still draw every day.

This is what the AI does with old drawings I have done years ago. This one, Filch the burglar and entertainer from a D & D game in the early 1990s, shows how the AI can interpret my older and better drawings almost the way I would have done it myself. Almost… but you can plainly see the work I had to do on the hands. AI art programs have difficulty with hands. The left hand confused it because three fingers actually go off the page and I highlighted the top of the palm. The program broke the little finger and tried to bend a sixth finger across the top of the palm. The right hand is nearer to correct, though my glaucoma-hampered eyes still see the fingers as too long. That, however, could also be said of the original drawing.
So, as an artist, I do battle daily. Not only with the arthritis in my hands, but also some Artificial Unintelligence. They should call it AU rather than AI. It’s too dumb to get offended by that.




















Reading Other Writers
Nobody who wants to be a writer gets by with just writing and never reading anything by anybody else. It is too easy to devolve into some kind of human mushroom that way, thinking only thoughts a mushroom could think, all fungus-like and having no chlorophyll of their own. You never learn to decode other people and other people’s thinking if you don’t read other people’s thoughts crystallized in writing.
And not every other writer is Robert Frost. Or even Jack Frost who thinks he’s Gene Kelly. There has to be some interpretation, some digging for understanding. What did that writer mean when she said political correctness was like a tongue disease? And what does it mean when a commenting troll calls me a nekkid poofter? Is that how he spells “exceptional genius”? I think it is. Trolls are not smart.
I know people have to make an effort to understand me. When I write, I am writing under the delusion that I can produce literary quality off the top of my head. In fact, I can barely produce hair off the top of my head, and it is gray when I do it. See what I did there? It is the kind of joke a surrealist makes, pretending the idiomatic expression you use is to be taken literally when it doesn’t literally make sense. That kind of nonsense is what my readers have to put up with, and probably also the reason why most of them just look at the pictures. If you have to think too hard when you read, your brain could over-heat and your hair could catch fire. I like that kind of purple paisley prose that folds back in on itself and makes you think in curlicues. But most people don’t. Most people don’t have fire-proof hair like I do.
Sometimes, it doesn’t even take a word to make the point. For instance, why, in the picture, is Fluttershy trying to drink out of the toilet in the dollhouse bathroom? For that matter, why does a doll house even need a bathroom? Applejack doesn’t even fit in that yellow bathtub. I know. I tried to stuff her in there for this picture. And, as you read this, doesn’t this paragraph tell you a lot about me that you probably didn’t even want to know?
When I am reading the writing of others, I am looking for a cornucopia of things. I want to not only understand their ideas, I want to detect the limping footprints across the murder scene of their paragraphs and come to know the deeper things about them as well. I spent years decoding and trying to understand the writing of preliterate kids in my middle school English classes in order to be able to teach them to write better. And I learned that no writer is a bad writer as long as they are using readable words. I also learned that very few writers are James Joyce or Marcel Proust. Thank God for that! And given enough time I can read anything by anybody and learn something from it. I read a lot. And it may not always make me a better writer to read it, but it always has value. It is always worth doing.
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