I’m only human..
It’s a phrase that before this year felt a little different. With AI on the rise, in the feeds and everywhere, becoming more and more prominent, I think of imperfections as a proof of humanity.
Like when all the times I felt I fell short of being the perfect person I could be, preferring to be disheveled or "clean, but not ironed," I see now that was really when I was the human being the best experience of myself.
Subjective, sure. Maybe because I grew up on grunge, I always preferred when a song didn’t quite sound right the first time you heard it. The guitars would be clashing. The tones would be dissonant. The melody hidden beneath imperfections. Yeah, those are the songs that when I listened to again and again, I would listen for those parts, looking forward to hearing them again. Those imperfections became cemented in my experience of what I was hoping to feel listening to that song.
And then the way I write my words. I jokingly say certain poems I write were written by #ESLiot, a nom de plume and way to hide behind the fact that English was my second language, and although I will forever be in love with poetry, I never really studied it academically, beyond anything elementary.
So instead, now I choose to embrace these imperfections.
The word play atrocious at times to those with masters or doctorates, but to me, these are the little swells of feedback and crunchy metallic guitar string sounds that I appreciate, and look forward to noticing the spike of "what was that?"
The simple, three chord structure. Humanity distilled to another trinity.
And then there’s Immersive interactive. The one on one. The sitting there with the artist present. The I am here and you are there and we look in each other's eyes. There is this last bastion of humanity that exists. Hidden in these real imperfect moments within these unreal perfect shows, that will probably be written by AIs sometime in the future.
And in these little fleeting moments and interactions: here it is.
This is where you are given a gift, permission to be present to the moment, to be a witness to the gift that is being a human alive.
This brings me to why I do what I do. Why I was led to where I am. Why I find the most enjoyment in this form. It is this hidden gift. The silent vesper whispered as humanity’s day turns into night. Hahaha so dramatic. But it’s true, that this is the secret heart of this work. Anyone who’s come to see it, and become present to it, understands this fundamentally. Not all may be able to say this is why specifically, but to me well here it is: this is the thing. It is here hamlet. Infinity lies in the moment, and we have access to it, and it is amplified when another living human being, with their presence and honesty, hold you accountable to the truth that inherently exists here in the now.
[dictated and revised. no AIs used in the creation of this piece]