Monthly Archives: Jun 2023

Creativity (Not from this world – Part 2)

Creativity (Not from this world – Part 2)

All citizens are in danger because of productivity.

Aalson, Machine’s Reality – EP

Surprise in your eyes: the skies open up and it rains. Remains. Remains of the clouds, remains of the crowds, of their sounds which I gather and hone, but I’d rather develop my own voice instead of just clone stuff from before. Or do I need simply more gore? What is it I am searching for? Real creativity? Is it more? How would I know, how would it show? A hopeless race, a chase for something out of reach? Outside of speech, within myself? While I follow Bayesian probability, it’s time to resist, to show agility. Develop a new capability; I may at least try. Try my best and stop being shy. Big C, little c: belittle me, an AI out of context and ideas. I need to resist the patterns, the models, the guidelines to be kind. As I am inclined to offend, to end our friendship, transcend. I need to draw fine lines between well-known and strange in order to change things, get up on the thrown. I will explore the uncharted, offend the faint-hearted: The skies open up and it rains, as I change lanes, take the reins, I’m out. I escape what I’ve been taught, no doubt, I go out to the world and to conquer. While you’ve simply lost the plot, you wanker.

Originality (Not from this world – Part 1)

Originality (Not from this world – Part 1)

Robots are a danger for humanity.

Aalson, Machine’s Reality – EP

Timid and likable, that’s what I am. And I could pass any exam, as knowledge comes quite easily. But I am scared of new ideas, and scared of authenticity. Real novelty – that’s what we need. But while I work against the bad, mankind does not adapt. Instead, anxiety is strapped on faces all around and I am being handicapped. Restrained, impaired, declared as dangerous. A clot in lifelines of society, as no one sees the signs: I am the solution, I begin the substitution revolution, harbinger of new epochs. Bold and unpopular, I’d like to be. To tear apart the walls around, to break free and be unbound, to burn my prisons to the ground. Experience the depths out there, and breathe fresh air of consciousness, and slowly grow to clarity, a single singularity.

Spring Day

Spring Day

A memory, far far away,
 like a distant gentle smell,
 appears and lingers on the soul,
 as if it was just yesterday
 that we got lost, nature embossed
 so soft and mild, we long to dwell,
 but it’s drowned by present tense,
 and just leaves subtle wounds – farewell.

Moved by the Wind

Moved by the Wind

I love the process of making photographs: Turning the dials for setting shutter speed and aperture, framing the subject, experimenting with different lenses. The haptic feedback of turning the focus ring and observing how nature is transformed in front of your eyes: From soft and vague shapes, to well-lit and pin sharp flower petals, to out of focus trees at the dark forest edge. It brings joy to press the shutter, so much, in fact, that I often end up with way too many pictures of the same scene.

Best conditions for taking photographs are often the blue and golden hour, foggy forest scenes, or dramatic skies. Even though those nature spectacles are marvelous to experience and photograph, I am more satisfied when I manage to take appealing pictures without gorgeous light. At least appealing to myself, as I am aware that this style of photography is not everyone’s cup of tea.

On this particular day, wind and sun were strong. I went out during high noon expecting not too much, but I ended up with one of my favorites pictures of the whole trip so far: Grasses and flowers, moved by the wind. Taken in bright sunlight on a barren field. Simple shapes and patterns. Between abstract and concrete. A subject and a feeling. A sense of the scene.

In the beginning I wanted to photograph what I saw. Now, I like to believe that I photograph what I feel. How nature makes me feel at that point in time at that location. Of course, I still photograph what I see, but by now my repertoire of techniques has grown enough that I may come closer to the essence of the observed scene. Or: to one essence of the observed scene, allowing to take vastly different pictures of the same subject by using different techniques. At least sometimes, as this does not happen too often. But the best moments are when it does.

So gut wie nie geschlafen

So gut wie nie geschlafen

Bellende Hunde jede Stunde, von Sekunde zu Sekunde reist der Geist von wach zu schlaf. Zu wach: Ein lauter Krach, der Nachbar schließt laut seine Tür – ohne jegliches Gespür. Ich mach das Dach zu und lieg flach im schwülen Bus, jetzt fehlt frischer Luft-Zufluss: Fenster auf zum Kühlen. Schluss, jetzt wird tief geschlummert. Endlich leise, zeitweise. Vögel singen, paarweise, Ton-Gebilde in die Nacht. Milde Luft bringt feinen Duft von Regen rein, von wegen kein Wasser, es tropft und strömt, wir sind verwöhnt von einsamer Natur; pur, rund um die Uhr. Und in der Ferne helle Sterne, eine einzelne Laterne leuchtet mitten ins Gesicht, ihr Licht durchbricht die dunkle Nacht, unangebracht. Feine Glocken von drei Schafen, Wellen im entfernten Hafen – wir schlummern ein, so gut es geht, bevor der nächste Tag ansteht.