It was the year of our madness 2021. Each week there was a new must-have mint—each one more hyped than the next, and ETH was printed and burned by the day. What would today’s cult be? Yet something seemed off. Where were the hall monitors who'd seen most of all this original fabulous stuff before, despite the constant peacocking about how it was all tots different? If this was indeed the new economy, where was the responsibility—the conscience? Web 3 Twitter began to feel like watching daycare with few catchers in the rye. It was a great distraction for a while during Covid—all of us in our sci-fi fantasylands, and the “market” responded. I had just finished writing a story a day for 365 days straight (before I knew who Beeple was/post-Everydays sale). Why don't I make an NFT of each story? I'll even pixelate the beginning so it morphs into something more palatable for this new special audience...I’ll create an entirely new literary/art category and start a revolution with blockchain writing!

​

I forgot you don’t have to read a jpeg. One day in another dimension the Gods will agree I was ahead (or in back) of my time. So I focused on degen-ing, even as the inherent cracks in the foundation that we, Frankenstein's monster had created grew wider. But dissent within the cults I mean communities is never taken easily, no matter how well-intentioned. I wanted to flag things in a kinder, gentler way, but few (if any) digital artists were commenting about the space itself. I had spent a lifetime creating art. Could I split myself into two entities, honoring two sides of my Sybil? Could I return, masquerading as a mild-mannered entity similar to Chauncey Gardner in Being There? Might I be kind but forceful, Ironic without preaching? Funny without becoming the joke? Successful without aligning myself to any particular project? Maintain grace? Do what you know how to do. Do what you've earned through years of blood, sweat, tears, joy & ecstasy. Claim what you've earned.

 

I use Photoshop, iMovie, Garage Band, my voice and various instruments, some image AI, supplemented by an Arturia Minilab, 11 Labs, and whatever media ingredients enhance the soup. They have their (sometimes severe) limitations, but I like squeezing the most out of what I have as an ode to prehistoric cave painters, like digging a hole with your hand and eating the dirt for a snack. When I hit a snag, I find a different way to say and show what I need to—leaning into years of artistic problem-solving (after I recover from a debilitating feeling of hopelessness and self-loathing). But I'm tenacious, if anything. 

 

As far as process, there is none. Inspiration is a cat that arbitrarily chooses to grace you with its presence—unless I’m especially moved by what I’m seeing in either Web 3-Oh or the world or if I'm motivated by love or need. Why create anything if we can only validate ourselves?