Tinkering with existing sketches

The artist isn’t scared about the act of creating something.

That’s when most people find themselves most alive. When the making is happening. Something new is coming into existence. They are in the zone. In a flow state. Distractions disappear for a period of bliss.

That’s what most people long for and hope for more moments like that in their work.

The scariest part of producing art is that people will ignore it. That new idea, innovation, or image you birthed into the world might be welcomed into the world with utter silence. No one notices. No one cares.

It’s terrifying.

When we create, we pour out our time, effort, imagination, dreams, and emotions into making something that didn’t exist before. Then with a small (or large) amount of trepidation, we hold out our new creation to the world around us - hoping someone will notice.

Being ignored doesn’t just feel like our creation wasn’t any good. Rather, it feels like our dreams, hopes, efforts, imagination or creativity don’t matter. That there’s no place for it in the world. That maybe, just maybe, there isn’t actually a place for us in this world.

Just the idea of being ignored scares most artists off from even starting.

And so, we recycle old and trite ideas. Tinker with existing sketches. Too afraid - at a survival instinct level - to create something that might lead to being ignored.

What does this have to do with data?

AI is rapidly changing the world of technology, information, and communication. The activities that you used to spend most of your day on - coding, spreadsheets, writing documentation, gathering requirements - will slowly fade away from your responsibility list.

What’s left are opportunities to do what humans can uniquely do. Create. Be an artist. Innovate.

Build something that might not work.

Write an idea that might change how we think.

Tell a story (with data) about how the world works.

If you dare, you can make something new.

With enough courage, excitement, or maybe naivety, you can create.

You are an artist. Or at least you can be.

I’m here,

Sawyer