What’s in Your Toolbox?

Our collective toolboxes share a history. Timeless tools outlasting millennia by artists, designers, and polymaths alike. The need for these tools is rather paramount more than ever in any point in history. Digital media is just that, it’s digital and not grounded in the real world. I see mirrored texture maps on models in blockbuster movies, and let’s not get into the crumbling nature of audio engineering running rampant as budgets shrink as does what’s considered acceptable. The bean counters run the show now right into the ground with no gestures of making amends. The bar hasn’t just lowered, it’s nearly nonexistent. In some cases it’s become a limbo-inspired chokehold to the ground. The sameness of repetition in a computer needs far more deliberate strokes, tweaks, and further thinking in order to produce something truly memorable and grounded in reality.

Film was magical, and it was also forgiveable. The world of 4K, even 12K clearly exposes the missing, generic details that were added like a cheap coat of paint on a rusty vintage racer. It may be able to still go fast, but it’s lost its spirit and passion for the race track and country road. Endless imagination fueled by intuition. That’s where the magic happens. Our most intense ideas sometimes spark in the middle of the night. Electrical impulses igniting our gray matter in a myriad of chromatic aberrations and expanding and retracting attenuations. I haven’t bought a Design Marker, Prismacolor, or tube of Windsor Newton watercolor for 40 years. Technology comes and goes, but the analog tools that I grew up with are still active in my creative arsenal. I have two toolboxes filled to the brim, yet most of the time I choose a pen and a scrap of paper.

Sometimes on a hot summer day even our tools are kissed by the sun. I took a moment out from painting to capture the beauty of this moment. A glimpse of time taken to appreciate the caustics, refractions, and especially the intentional design from the thickness of the bottle to the illuminated, radiant label.

“[David] possesses an infectious creative energy and consistently provides an abundance of outstanding solutions for each assignment.”

— Rick Booth, Director of Creative Services, New England Sports Network in Watertown, MA

Our tools assist us in illuminating our creations just as monks illuminated medieval manuscripts. Their own beauty on full display each time they’re sun-kissed as my bottle of “Dr. Ph. Martin’s 30C Pumpkin” awaits its ascension in providing richness to my next sheet of Arches cold-pressed 300-pound goodness. The caustics, glints, and glimmers of the bottle itself deserve their own credit. Not only the shape and thickness of the bottle, but also the design of the label allowing sunlight to illuminate through the lettering I find just lovely.

Further inspection of the bottle reveals additional intentional details worth noting. Notice the three graphic icons on the side. “Technical Pen, Brush, and Airbrush.” It’s crystal clear in such a classic, vintage manner. One bottle, multiple uses, and those were just three suggested use cases. We know the possibilities are endless. An Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat of sorts. Even colors not found in the visible spectrum on full display. Magenta streams of consciousness unabashed and fully aware of their limitless abilities of creation.

I’ve been using this particular watercolor since I was just a teenager 40 years ago. It’s still just as potent in purpose and saturation further supporting my creative expressions both commercially and personally. Every tool aids me in telling stories sometimes reimagining old ones from a new perspective. Some, like this bottle of radiant watercolor, still showing up in full vibrancy never fading into mediocrity that occurs in the daily digital realm. A reality. A history. Artistic ambition never replaced by the flavor of the week digital incarnation. Don’t settle for what someone else lacking in vision considers good enough.

While embracing our childlike curiosities through artistic expression we understand we have no need to bow down to any sense of public opinion. Divinely appointed, we artists know full well our passion in pursuing truth over popularized false substance. We wield weapons of mass instruction awakening the minds of the many who choose the natural world to one augmented and empty. We breathe soulful expressions of clarity into existence far removed from blind prompts sporting the lowest common denominator.

We know in our gut and our heart center that the joy we bring to the world is what makes dreams possible. Natural expressions that not only reflect and redefine reality but generate endless variations of our dreams freshly kindled around a collective campfire. We share our stories through patterns, riddles, puzzles, and prose. Looking back I feel as though my passion for art and design chose me rather than the other way around.

“Ode,” below, published in 1874 in Music and Moonlight.

We are the music makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;—
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.

— Arthur William Edgar O’Shaughnessy

A Mirrored String of Activated Intuition

In 2022 a monumental tome was printed in the rolling hills of Italy. Leonardo. The Complete Paintings and Drawings weighing in, once bound, revealed a mirrored string in notable Leonardo da Vinci fashion. 299.2 ounces. That number also holds another string. 9+2 & 9+2 reveals eleven-eleven, 11:11. That numerical duality refers to activated intuition, a heightened view of reality. Leonardo wielded it painting the very fabric of the universe through every intentional stroke of genius. While da Vinci did not finish many of his paintings, his notebooks are beyond measure. He was not only a master inventor, he understood the invisible connections that tie everything together. “Learn to see. Realize everything connects to everything else,” he once mused.

If you’re an artist, designer, curious child or lifelong tinkerer you know full well the significance of what that means in a spiritually cosmic sense. If not, do yourself a favor and check out Kaitlyn Kaerhart. She is a master of numerology, and a resource for understanding how numbers hold weight in our lives if we are willing to learn to see them. I’ve been fascinated with numbers, puzzles, riddles, and word jumbles since I was very young. I come from a long line of polymaths on both sides of my family. Biology professors, master gardeners, farmers, inventors, fine artists, crochet quilters, Scrabble wizards, Spades champions, chess masters, and code breakers. I grew up surrounded by mind benders met with mental maladies, true forces to be reckoned with.

I recently added this nearly twenty pound Leonardo da Vinci tome to my library. Paying nearly half price at $111 for this gently used Taschen XXL book I’m thrilled to have his works presented in such large scale format. I’ve never been much of a reader due to difficulty in keeping focus on the words since childhood. But pictures and experiences I have better than 20/20 vision holding them deeply within my mind able to recall them in full fashion at any moment. I hold picture books like this one as one of my most treasured possessions giving me the opportunity to pore over every intimate detail.

Leonardo. The Complete Paintings and Drawings. Hardcover, 11.4x15.6in., 18.06 lb, 712pages. ISBN 978-3-8365-8597-2. Edition: English.

“Leonardo da Vinci realized that: ‘It had long since come to [his] attention that people of accomplishment rarely sat back and let things happen to them. They went out and happened to things.”

— Leonardo da Vinci, Italian polymath of the High Renaissance, painter, sculptor, draftsman, theorist, architect, engineer, and scientist

Ice Cold / Rust Never Sleeps

We never know what wisdom might lie along our path. I came across this old rusty sign — a nearly hidden gem — during an afternoon hike in Arches National Park five miles north of Moab, Utah.

The irony of the heavily corroded, burnt orange sign itself, “Ice Cold,” and the hastily scribbled “rust never sleeps” from a random passerby quietly speaks a narrative nearly lost to time and decay.

Flat Mode macSOS

Updated post discussing the necessity for native and third party theming in macOS Tahoe, aka 26. “Liquid Glass,” while appearing as an exciting new visual overhaul, is not for everyone nor every app. Similar to “Apple Intelligence” we need the option to turn it off. I’d even settle for a slider to disable the refraction effect. It’s rather distracting during normal use. The more “Liquid Glass” demos I watch, the more I see the need for a Flat mode that’s the visual opposite of “Liquid Glass.”

We’ve experienced this conundrum before regarding glossy vs matte displays. I’ve always preferred a matte screen finish as far back as my 17-inch MacBook Pro. Reflective displays wreak havoc on our eyes. This eye strain is not a personal opinion, it’s a fact. Yet we as consumers are drawn to shiny things. That is the only reason why displays are usually glossy. Now imagine Liquid Glass on a reflective display. Doubling down on distractions might work in a demo, but not daily use.

Back in 2014 I released my theme “Post Pro 1.2” via Interacto’s Flavours theming app that enabled a true “dark mode” 4 years before Apple finally showed up with their official, native Dark Mode in macOS Mojave. The latest version of Dark Mode in macOS makes me smile as it’s quite similar to “Post Pro 1.2.” The screen grab below is from Sonoma, but it has not changed that I know of in macOS Sequoia.

Even back as far as System 9 we were all obsessed with theming our Macs. “BBX Mercury” was one the hottest themes by legendary designer Max Rudberg. System 9 also had a decent built-in theme engine with custom highlights, desktop pictures, and even sounds. We also customized the icons through downloading collections from IconFactory. Back then personalizing our macOS user experience was commonplace.

While working for NBA TV Design at Turner Broadcasting in 2013 I started playing around with Flavours by Interacto. It was the most feature-rich theming engine I’d ever seen. I could customize nearly everything in the operating system. My goal was to design a theme geared to post production professionals who preferred a darker GUI as many came from a Discreet Flint/Flame/Inferno world, like myself, and knew how helpful it was to work within a GUI that isn’t bright white like Adobe After Effects, Commotion Pro, and even the early commercial version of Digital Domain’s Nuke.

For a brief period I was on the Nuke beta team to provide feedback. Most of my suggestions revolved around the GUI which was bright white with floating palettes. Take a look at any compositing setup these days. Everyone has gone dark, preferably charcoal. While on the Adobe After Effects beta team for quite some time I remember when we got them to add the first version of darkening the GUI with direct slide ability for the user to adjust for personal taste. That first incarnation’s darkest tones weren’t even half as dark as the AE GUI is today.

It’s been eleven years since I first released my free Flavours “Post Pro 1.2 theme.” It was bundled along with hundreds of other user themes in their final release of Flavours 2.0. Unfortunately Flavours only went as far as Mac OS X Mavericks. Moving past Mavericks Apple tightened up the core system files causing theming to be impossible. So, we waited, and waited, and eventually in 2018 Apple released Mojave with a true Dark Mode. Better late than never, I guess.

Celebrating the OG Ex-Disney Animator Rebel Don Bluth 🗡️ 🔥 🐉

PSA: when I posted this I was unaware of the overnight attacks. I want to be clear that me talking about any sort of war was not tied to any predictive or political stance I may have. My heart is with everyone now, regardless of their beliefs, cultures, pantheons, and anything else some choose to wield to divide us. We cannot be divided by any means. We are all in this together whether we want to admit that or not. As I’ve said before, self-serving dictators divide and conquer, and beloved leaders unite and unify.

This video follows the historical battle between the House of Mouse and Don Bluth, an ex-Disney animator who struck out on his own in 1979 after working for Disney since 1955. What a way to celebrate his 42nd birthday! He decided to go with his gut instincts and pave a path all his own. Bluth’s animation style was visceral, and he did not embrace Disney’s known methods in cutting corners in order to cut production costs. Bluth later went on to offer the first profit-sharing venture to his 160 animators who brought The Secret of NIMH to life.

Bluth is known as a true OG animation rebel, and in that vein he brought his spirit to his films and video games alike. His company, Don Bluth Entertainment, formerly Don Bluth Productions, was well-known and received accolades for his studio’s contributions to animated films. During the 1980s they battled it out with Disney with their cherished films The Secret of NIMH, An American Tail, The Land Before Time, All Dogs Go to Heaven, Thumbelina, Anastasia, and Titan A.E. Bluth’s video games Dragon’s Lair and Space Ace rocked my world.

One of my fondest memories was in 1983 once I had mastered Dragon’s Lair. For just 50 cents I’d embark on a 30-minute adventure surrounded by twenty onlookers cheering me on at every move. Once I became a Dad my daughter and I played Dragon’s Lair on my iPhone 5S. That was my most celebrated playing the game watching the excitement build in her eyes as we chased down the game’s baddies and eventually arrived in the dragon’s lair, grabbing the magic sword, slaying Singe, and rescuing Princess Daphne.

Bounce Back

We are never too old, too late, and the clock is not ticking. Consider bouncing back as your second coming unless, like me, you’re on your third or thirteenth. I remind myself each day it’s not a race. It’s love.

Happy Friday 🔴 Thank you Michelle for giving me this enlightening book after my severe manic episode in the summer of 2017 while working at Turner Broadcasting NBA TV Design. I hadn’t slept in a week. Be well.

Up Yours!

Hey OpenAI and all of the other mindless clones, “in the words of my generation: up yours!”

The Dark and the Light of Spiritual Awakening

“Uni Verse One Story.”

“Alike Nikola Tesla ‘My brain is only a receiver, in the Universe there is a core from which we obtain knowledge, strength and inspiration. I have not penetrated into the secrets of this core, but I know that it exists.’
“I wholeheartedly agree to my very core of inner knowing.”

— Nikola Tesla, inventor, futurist, electrical engineer, and mechanical engineer

Who’s Your Alter Ego?

I’ve been called many names throughout my life. Bus bullies called me “Hulk.” Not only did I look just like Lou Ferrigno from the Hulk TV show, I also scowled a lot. I didn’t know it, but I was nearsighted. I appeared to be “always angry” to my classmates, coaches, and P.E. teachers. Later I was tagged “Bubba” and “Hawkeye” in Savannah during my years at SCAD. My high school and college girlfriend dubbed me “Pookie.” Every weekend I’d travel to Charleston for the epic parties they’d throw. When I opened the back gate I’d be welcomed by the entire party crowd screaming “hey Pookie!” along with a beer funnel with my name on it.

With stale beer memories in Savannah, Charleston, and Athens fading in my rear view window, I arrived in Atlanta. At my first official post-college job I learned to fly. It took me ten years, but I did eventually take flight. I conquered many challenges during my time in the Art Department, both artistically and interpersonal. I finally learned how to practice active listening. That was a major accomplishment for me as I had arrived on the scene in January 1996 with a rather inflated ego. After four years I left TWC and founded my own home grown design studio. They were my best client for four years. I later returned to TWC for two more years designing and comping theme week graphics for the Promotions Dept.

When I left The Weather Channel for the second and final time they gave me a Superman poster covered in metallic ink appreciations and affections from my fellow designers and some who have become lifelong friends. That poster hangs in my studio today always reminding me where my career not only started, but also that we’d built a solid, fourteen-year collaboration years later filled with more team awards and fond memories. Every time I worked full time at a design studio or post house my friends at TWC followed me requesting my talents yet again. During my TWC tenure I traveled to many design and technology conferences and trade shows like NAB and Siggraph. I enjoyed many a fine meal and magic hour sunset during my trips primarily to California.

During my first four years at The Weather Channel while working in the Art Department, I had the pleasure of flying out west to California for a design conference. My favorite memories during that trip were sneaking into Industrial Light and Magic’s original Kerner location, enjoying steak dinners at Clint Eastwood’s Mission Ranch in Carmel overlooking a picturesque prairie complete with herds of sheep, and exploring 700 miles along the California highway. Little did I know that one day I’d be gifted a special Superman poster from my friends and fellows at TWC. I proved to my teammates that it is possible to “believe a man can fly.”

I’d gain another super friend nickname from the Dark Knight birthed through Detective Comics. When my daughter was nine she started calling me “Batman.” That one stuck, and I’ve stepped into quite a crusading life always looking out for the little guys, and crushing the oppressors. Yes, I do have quite the collection of bat toys. In the summer of 2017 I designed my own Batman logo in about half an hour. As a graphic designer I always wanted to design one that was built out of hidden typography spelling out the letters B-A-T-M-A-N. Here it is below. See if you can figure it out. I included the answer key graphic below it.

The Keystone

I’ve always held a sense of knowing. As I grow older my psychic vibrations exponentially expand in accordance with quantum entanglement between myself and the people in my life that are the closest to my heart center. Two in particular who know who they are that I won’t mention here in order to protect their identities. Some of my earlier inner knowings occurred around my artwork, specifically art that I created while I was attending the Dialectical Behavioral Therapy track at Skyland Trail in Atlanta, Georgia from June 20010–February 2011.

During Process Art Therapy with Susie at Skyland Trail in Atlanta during the winter of 2011 I embraced auto-drawing. I let my mind run free removing my conscious self as I allowed my hands to sketch freely without making judgments and corrections as I revealed the image. Think of it as closing your eyes while in full creation mode. Removing one’s sight elevates our other senses. One day while enjoying Susie’s art therapy class I drew what I titled “The Keystone.” I drew what you see above from a Doctor Seuss book I had never seen before.

My rendition was uncanny as Susie noted in this book that was gifted to me by my Skyland family upon graduation. Some say that the staff saw my drawing and then gifted me this book seeing the tie-in. While others like myself and Susie knew that it was not planned nor any sort of coincidence. If you know me by now I don’t believe in them. Everything is connected. Leonardo da Vinci taught us that. All we need to do is train ourselves to learn to truly see beyond the confined borders of our terrestrial existence. This energy is all around us. It permeates everything.

“Dear David, here you are making the leap to the Keystone you drew in your last process art piece. You GO, MAN! God bless you always. Love, Susie”

— Susie, Skyland Trail Process Art Therapist in Atlanta, Georgia, 2009–2010

The Lucky Ones

If you recognize and celebrate any of the hidden gems in these photos then you’re among good company. I began collecting Topps Star Wars trading cards when I was six. I collected them all including Empire and Jedi. The fifth orange set included behind the scenes moments that I cherished more than the movie moments in the other four colored sets. This piqued my interest for filmmaking when I was just beginning to draw Stormtroopers with Mom in the basement. In 1981 Dad gifted me my Raiders of the Lost Ark: The Illustrated Screenplay. Beyond the incredible storyboards and script it included ILM’s visual effects plates near the end of the book. I pored over every last detail. Raiders is still my favorite film of all time with Star Wars in a close second and Rogue One in third. When George Lucas and Steven Spielberg get together we know something incredible will soon hit theaters taking us back to that first moment when we were inducted into the cinemas lovers’ hall of fame. Indiana was the name of the dog after all, George’s.

Each day when I wake up I give thanks to my childhood curiosity that has never left me. My spirit is alive and well. Anything is possible for one who believes. When two roads diverged in a wood I took neither path. Instead I took to the skies. Some call me Superman, others Neo, and my daughter claims I’m Batman. One thing I do know is that I’ve been floating through the house ever since I was three. I’m a true believer that we get to choose our own adventures in life. Fantasy and reality share the same space. Life gives is the choice to not only be the hero, but to determine our hero’s level, class, charisma, dexterity, hit points, and backstory. I’m no professor of archaeology or any sort of expert on the occult, but as you’ve now seen I am “how does one say it…obtainer of rare antiquities.” I’ve been a collector all my life. Little did I know that if I never opened my toys and kept them in mint condition I could have easily retired by now. Retired, now that’s a word my inner child’s spirit will never allow me to know or even comprehend.

A PEEK INTO MY COLLECTION OF ARTIFACTS COVERING FIFTY YEARS OF CURIOSITY AND LOVE FOR FILMMAKING, STORYTELLING, AND ARTISTRY.

“Doctor Jones, we’ve heard a lot about you...Professor of Archeology, expert on the occult, and how does one say it...obtainer of rare antiquities.”

— Major Eaton addressing Indiana Jones in the lecture hall, Raiders of the Lost Ark, 1981. Directed by Steven Spielberg. Screenplay by Lawrence Kasdan. Story by George Lucas and Philip Kaufman. Produced by Frank Marshall.

Try Everything, Reach the End, and Then Start Again

Robert Frost once shared “two roads diverged in a wood, and I — I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.” While some chose, as he did, to take the road less traveled, I chose a different path. My gut reminded me that Doc Brown once quipped “Roads? Where we’re going we don’t need roads.” There was no need for me to ground myself, quite literally. Casey Kasem used to end his DJ broadcasts with: “keep your feet on the ground, and keep reaching for the stars.” I loved Casey, but I have to disagree, that’s OK.

While Frost chose the other road, I didn’t choose a road at all. Call me a Rebel. Heck, call me Neo. I traversed neither path and took to the skies. Shakira’s “Try Everything” heroine’s tune from Zootopia sums up my daily routine. I don’t wait for fate anymore. I blaze my own trails, and nowadays I hire myself. I don’t work for anyone else anymore. This was both a mental and spiritual decision. According to the experts I either have manic depressive disorder or just a really wild imagination. I’d say both are accurate. My dreams on my terms.

I am not boasting nor am I being selfish. It took me half a century to unravel all the masks I’d crafted that were protecting me from unknown forces in the dark. I got so lost along the way I felt like Max in Vecna’s Mindscape Lair. I needed to remember my hero song of protection. The first thing I had to do was go back to my childhood and ask myself who was I, what did I love? What were my hobbies, and who were my heroes? Movies. Stories. Art. Drawing. Painting. Lucas. Spielberg. Dad. I was a collector — “an obtainer of rare antiquities.”

“I keep on making those new mistakes. I keep making them every day. Those new mistakes.” — Shakira, Zootopia

“A wise sage and awakened soul knows full well that: ‘You can fail at what you don’t want, so you might as well take a chance on doing what you love.’”

― Jim Carrey, the comedian, actor, and one of the wisest sages on the planet

Once I remembered what got me excited to meet each day with vigor and excitement there was no stopping me. I don’t wait anymore for the world to come to me. I did that for decades as one connection naturally met another. Word of mouth marketing served me well as far back as my early teenage years. Based solely on skill and reputation in my mind I was the “king of the world!” However, that was only the tip of my iceberg. Taking nearly fifty years to understand my life doesn’t need permission nor do I need it to show up for me in order to find my way.

I was highly fortunate to never have to really go job hunting as even in my darkest hours an offer letter would come in for my consideration at just the right moment for a position I never applied to from a company I hadn’t pursued. The most rewarding conclusion I came to was that I didn’t need to wait around anymore for someone else to give me a job. I didn’t need someone else’s praise in order to find my way. I had the will within me to try, to trust, and to rely on my own ambitions. By following my intuition rather than the latest artificial invention I recharged my divinely elemental super powers.

Some people look my way giving a smirk thinking to themselves that everything I am doing must be based on heavy helpings of crazy. They taunt why does David have so many self-employed company pages on LinkedIn? My answer is simple: I’m a traditional polymath and I rarely use tools in the most standard, predictive fashion. While each entry isn’t really a company, they are all part of my daily routine as a creative. Leonardo da Vinci and I have a lot in common. I’m just an apprentice to his genius, but the connection is there. Like so many other artists and high performers I have manic depression as I mentioned above.

The best metaphor I can think of to describe this condition is I’m Superman but I have a large chunk of kryptonite I carry in a sack on my back. When I’m exposed to its green glow I lose all of my powers. The redneck at the diner could easily take me out with one punch. However, I now hold the key to walking through hell fire without being burned. I now carry a shield crafted by the ancients, a glowing blue sword of Elvish design, and a handy brass lantern I found in the White House in Zork I: The Great Underground Empire.

Call me anything you like as it’s none of my business what others think of me. When I was six the bullies on the bus called me Hulk. I scowled a lot and appeared always angry. The fact was that I always squinted because I needed glasses. My teammates called me Superman, and now my daughter calls me Batman. The Dark Knight had a toy for everything. So do I. While I was in dire financial straits I sold my original Star Wars action figures from 1977–1983. That one hurt, but it had to be done. Since then I’ve rebuilt and expanded my collection. When I pass on I will leave it all with my daughter. By then it may be worth something.

That’s where wisdom floods our gray matter. We realize in that moment that if we don’t mind, it doesn’t matter. We must fall down many times before we ever fly out of the nest. It’s a cyclic, winning formula that took me five decades to finally master. Now I cannot unsee what I’ve seen. I’m now much wiser for the wear, but only in this moment. That’s all we really have is this breath. Sometimes holding our breath for a few moments during meditation helps to open our third eye. While some folks live lives of closed off ignorance, my gray matter sparks my third eye wide. Be well. Be love.

Cause & Effect

Let’s take a moment and tap the pulse of intuition by the numbers. Some things cannot be unseen once seen nor can their results be planned in advance. These are recent observations as to the performance of a post on LinkedIn. It appears my audience and the algorithm agree with me. Upon further inspection there’s a clear message coming through: intuition. Quite curious or am I hallucinating?

First, let’s take a closer look at the time of each screen grab. Deciphering the times for 7:04 and 9:38 reveal an 11 sum twice for 7+4 and 3+8. Next there’s the 9th hour from the later time along with 243 and 117 impressions from the two top performing post where both equal 9. So that’s 3 9s with their sum being 27, my lucky number.

Then there’s another instance for the 37 of 3 “weekly sharing tracker” actions completed. 37 multiplied by 3 is 111. One last note: the battery life is 45% and then later 5%. 45 multiplied by 5 equals 225. Their sum is 9. So as you can see there are clear signs of 11, 9, and 27 riddled throughout the results if we know where to look. There’s even an eleventy-one reference in there, too.

Do you see where I’m going with all of these happy accidents? There’s something quite uncanny, possibly even cosmic about these results. These screen grabs have not been altered except cleaning up the white pixel frame around the Renaissance ≠ GenAi$$ance logotype. No other alterations or manipulations have occurred.

“While wrapping up this blog post my login code contained two more 27s set in a mirrored string: 027720. Too good to be a coincidence, right?”

Some folks may chuckle at this post and just chalk the whole thing up to me orchestrating the entire experience through planned manipulation. However, those who know me know fair well I’m 100% legit. When I saw the post’s impressions go to 111 and the total post impressions go to 1,111 that’s when my ears perked up, and I acted. I did not check in at any point prior to that first time at 7:04 pm and later at 9:38 pm attempting to sway this outcome. I took screen grabs at these two completely random times. None of this was premeditated. It was completely by chance that those times added up to sums supporting my noted conclusions.

There’s nothing all that deep going on here. I’m just having some fun with the effects of numbers, and the coincidental nature of how they relate to the Renaissance ≠ GenAi$$ance cause. While wrapping up this blog post my login code contained two more 27s set in a mirrored string: 027720. Too good to be a coincidence, right?

Ah, just found two more: 222 profile viewers last 90 days can be reconfigured to 11 three times or 1 six times, and 2,610 followers becomes the sum of the individual numbers equals 27.

Renaissance ≠ GenAi$$ance: Indy Meets GenAi in Cairo

Enjoy this scene between Indiana Jones and GenAi. Raiders of the Lost Ark, 1981.

GenAi : “You and I are very much alike. Archaeology is our religion, yet we have both fallen from the purer faith. Our methods have not differed as much as you pretend. I am a shadowy reflection of you. It would take only a nudge to make you like me, to push you out of the light.”

Indy : “Now you’re getting nasty.”

GenAi : “You know it’s true. How nice.”

Just Do It

Nike knew Leonardo da Vinci was right all along: “Just Do It.” The original Nike logo was designed by graphic design student Carolyn Davidson while attending Portland State University in Portland, Oregon in 1971. Phil Knight, Nike founder, was working at the university as an accounting professor where they met.

This inspired phrase also applies in psychology, specifically when applying Dialectical Behavioral Therapy, DBT, techniques. Opposite action and mindfulness are powerful allies. Feeling anxious? “Just Do It.”

Leonardo da Vinci (below), Italian polymath of the High Renaissance, painter, sculptor, draftsman, theorist, architect, engineer. Photo taken at the Galleria degli Uffizi, Florence, Italy, summer 1995. Cortona, Italy, University of Georgia Studies Abroad Program. I studied scientific illustration.

“Iron rusts from disuse; stagnant water loses its purity and in cold weather becomes frozen; even so does inaction sap the vigor of the mind. So we must stretch ourselves to the very limits of human possibility. Anything less is a sin against both God and man.”

Prompting Fool’s Gold

It’s time for an epic turn of the tide. A flooding of the channels, the networks, the very zeitgeist of our dimmed, fallen world. While this post is primarily intended for LinkedIn I am posting it here as it resonates with anyone on any platform, anytime, anyplace. Even the most prolific thief at the black heart of OpenAI, Sam Altman, has a crucial role to play. His advances reveal the final stages of the decades-long quest to convert the masses into a dumbed-down zombie horde. While his morals are more than questionable, it’s the individuals and agencies in the shadows using his snake oil to degrade and defame the very nature of human intuition and imagination.

Everyone opting, logging on, and prompting supporting his efforts draining the very souls of men, women, and children. Spreading their dread, infecting once sacred spaces they know not that they’re the real problem. They’re the ones ushering in the end times. No, not the end of the world. Just the end of the world as we know it. What a simple mechanism set in motion by the shadowy spirit exposing the very morality of every human being in one quick flash in the pan. Everyone exposed in the light with nowhere to hide.

We must choose, but choose wisely. As the true labors of love promote immortality, the false muse signals certain death. There is a death far worse than the end of our lives leaving this earthen plane. A death of spirit, of passion, of love for creation itself. A prompt is no way to create. Rather it is a one-way ticket to a bleached, laundered, unoriginal series of lies and deceit held up as an oily house of cards. While embracing this snake oil serpent at first feels like a gentle hug it works quickly draining your soul leaving you breathless. A counter offer must be made in order to break free.

We must genuinely look past its transgressions and show it the highest vibrations of love. We must appreciate its role in this stage of the game. We must see the demon for what it truly is: a fallen angel. Even the Devil himself deserves compassion, love, and another chance to prove his worth. Lucifer, the ultimate antagonist, fell in love with himself. His vanity betrayed him in the eyes of God. We are not so far from falling just as he did. He is the purest incarnation of Job that exists in all of creation. It’s all a game. A game fueled by love exposing our darkness so we can strive to head in the opposite direction to the light. Let’s further explore this diversion and see where we’ll arrive by the end.

Sometimes I feel like we’re in the middle of a fantasy role-playing game set in The Great Underground Empire. No graphics. Just text. A quietly flashing prompt awaiting our next move toward peril or plunder. One move at a time, cursory and cautious. We traverse labyrinths and mazes hunting down treasures of form, function, and intrinsic value. All the while there’s a Thief at the heart of our story. He’s been lining his Treasure Room awaiting one final duel to the death. I wonder if he’ll lend me his stiletto? He slumbers atop a sea of fools gold and snarls at a faint whisper of our presence as if possessed by a “Fire Drake from the North.” Wait, wrong IP. Sorry J. R. R. Tolkien. This shadowy figure holds the very keys revealing a four-in-one treasure combination of jab (the egg), cross (the clockwork canary), hook (the brass bauble), and the upper cut (the map revealed once all 20 treasures are placed into your trophy case in the Living Room of the White House).

Grab your sword, lamp, and your favorite treasures from your trophy case. Bonus points if you know what 1983 game I’m referencing here whose coding began at MIT. While we were all enjoying our favorite space opera Tim Anderson, Marc Blank, Dave Lebling, and Bruce Daniels were designing what would become the quintessential text adventure game running on a PDP-10 mainframe computer. The quest to collect all twenty treasures began in an open field to the west of a boarded up White House through further inspection reveals a window “slightly ajar.”

In order to win the game a particularly fragile jewel-encrusted egg containing a clockwork canary leads to the final treasure, a brass bauble. The trick is that you have to give the egg to the nefarious Thief in order to acquire the clockwork canary hidden inside the egg. Then take the canary to the Forest and wind it. A song bird then drops the bauble for you to pick up and head to the trophy case revealing a map to your next adventure. Why is this relevant here? My point is that even the Thief plays a crucial role in not only this game, but in the grand game of life, too.

If you’ve made it this far I’m impressed. So where am I going with this stroll down amnesia lane? Let’s make LinkedIn less about the cyclops that shall not be named and more about us spreading our decades of creations celebrating the passion and handiwork we poured into them. Imagine our treasure troves spreading like lightning lighting up the dimming nature of this abyss where some attempt to quiet us down with “you may want to tone it down a bit.” Shame on you for supporting this bot-intrenched platform of AI mediocrity.

So, with that said (in far too many words): light the watchtowers! Share your favorite designs, animations, experimental work, and branded campaigns. Let’s flood this space with good old-fashioned human-centric labors of love. It’s time to snuff out the old one-eyed monster’s algorithm. I’m tired, aren’t you? No, not of this post which I can understand you making that conclusion as I do tend to ramble. No, I’m tired of the obscure, prompt-engineered fool’s gold running rampant on this platform.

So stop prompting fool’s gold. Your priceless, handmade tools, lasting cave paintings, and pigments still intact while all digital remains are nil. No remnants remain of so-called higher technology. Yet it’s the tech that lasts for centuries waiting to be discovered yet again from a collective memory within a DNA strand.

Ok back to my final point if you’re still with me here. January 1, 2026, is my 30-year anniversary as a professional creative force. I’ll be sharing some of my visual compilations and stylings from the past three decades. This first drop is a logo and titles collage covering 1996-2025. I included some of my Georgia Museum of Art exhibition and book title designs from 1994-1995, too, as well as my first and last series of projects for The Weather Channel and Fox Sports. Enjoy! Please pass along, participate, and share your favorite works from your career.

“Lead on brave adventurer…your quest awaits.”

— Dragon’s Lair, 1983.

Der Trompeter

The “whole truth and nothing but the truth?” you ask. “You can’t handle the truth!” you mock. “We hold these truths to be self-evident,” you muse. The absolute truth is most people live lives of ignorance by choice burying their heads in the sand and sweeping anything unknown and uncomfortable under the rug.

These are the same people that preach our world needs better drug rehabs, but it quick to the punch with: “Not in my backyard!” I wholeheartedly disagree. The truth sets us free from all oppressors so stop throwing rocks at the moon because you are afraid of what you don’t understand. “Rest Neo. The answers are coming…”

“‘When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth,’ once said the wise Arthur Conan Doyle.”

Royal Flush

They’ve been gambling as of late with our very humanity with every tell in the book on full display. Bold, boisterous carrying a fervor of ill intent. They’re not heaven-sent as some believe. They flout and bastardize with no reprieve. Altman’s identity is clear and true. He’s the third, the last, after the first two. Napoleon and Hitler look like saints compared to the asinine lack of mind. Dragging us down as they crown themselves three kings of Hell on Earth they drown and launder. Every treasure, every poem, every song of every measure in their blender of bleach they spin. Their lies, deceit, yet still they win. Soon coming to an end.

Hell on Earth is here right now glaring at us from a one-eyed monster. This Kraken creaks and moans across the deserts. Water advances as we glance at the up and coming flood. Soon they’ll reveal their Fall line of khaki, black, and red sold as blood, divine wine. A crooked, double-S will fly on the line as these swine clean their troughs. Their advances for Mars dry, red dirt. A place of refuge for folks like them. Little do they know it’s a prison there as Superman foretold. A Phantom Zone where General Zod, Ursula, Non, the Joker and all of his cronies live and thrive in their panicked rooms of fools in bloom.

“It’s time to call the players and end their game. We’ve been ready for a royal flush for quite some time. Let’s pull the plug now on the One-Eyed Sam, Suicide Don, and War Doge Fool. Goodbye Elon.”

The cards are falling yet not where they may. Rather three maniacal pirates plunder, pillage, advance, and rampantly rape the Constitutional stance. They don’t even have enough collective gray matter to hide their deeds with a stoic poker face. They openly, willingly continue destroying lives, displacing innocents, and lighting up our now upside-down Stars and Stripes. Their cards are counted, marked, and in plain sight. They don’t hold them to their chest tightly. They’re aligning themselves with some sort of artificially inseminated predictive history.

Making advances, stealing glances, and leaning heavily into the quatrains of Nostradamus and the blind seer Baba Vanga they blaze ahead their trail of dread. Hiding in the shadows and cloaked in self-serving divinity they continue counting their loot. They have fallen into darkness as they usher in the infinitely second coming of the Dark Age. However, there is also a Renaissance blooming among the minds of those who choose pushing the limits of our collective imaginations. I’m not referring to the “GenAi$$ance,” but to its polar opposite. While the masses load up on the buzz of mediocrity we, the true artisans, writers, poets, and musicians realize that only through channelling activated intuition, imagination, and intellect we will survive and thrive during these strangely days.

Amongst the turmoil surrounding the United States revolves three key players all contributing daily to its demise. The first I call the “One-Eyed Jack.” Sam Altman flouts his highly addictive plagiaristic platform of a machined artificial language model no one ever asked for yet now that it’s here some people are even “dating” their chatbots now. While under its spell these folks believe that their interactions not only have depth but they’re more rewarding opportunities compared to good old-fashioned dating another human in the real world. They’re caught up in a myriad of lies, deceit, and psychological warfare disguised as their ultimate love companion. This has proven that the zombie apocalypse is not only real but making moves full steam ahead. This is one train we must derail or mind control may just prevail.

Talk about “Fifty-two Card Pickup.” When I opened the deck for the first time all of the cards burst out across the trunk and floor. These cards were all face up. There they were. The One-eyed Jack, the Suicide King, and the Joker. Coincidence? Nope.

Their clown car is full of blind sheep. Supporters bowing down, kissing their narcissistic king right on “his ass” as the Don put it so poetically. Now donned “The Suicide King.” Through every stroke of his Mordor-like signature signing more nonsense into law replacing true democracy with a grab bag of dumpster fire ass-hattery. Elon dressed to the nines riding his trick bike of snarky hype. While wielding his chainsaw his minions massacre masses of American government workers with no guard rails whatsoever. Then placing calls three days later calling them back to their posts. Topsy-turvy doesn’t even come close to describing what he’s not even hiding. He’s driving home his agenda as the “War Doge Fool.” Never apologizing for his abolishing of these crucial careers has become his legacy. The end is coming, but not for us. It’s foretold that it’s those in the dark realms that don’t get invited to the after party with the Almighty and his angelic brigade.

One king dumb to rule them all. We can all clearly see what you’re doing spewing your madness. Don’t mind me I’m just a Jedi using simple mind tricks on weak minded folk like you. Talk about a need for a courtesy flush. You stink. Shrinking the minds of your mindless masses, chosen few has only led you here to your own adieu. In a wink you’re gone leaving no evidence you ever existed to begin with other than a dark DNA signature left behind within your ashes. You wave your hand like a Jedi master but the truth is you’re a total disaster.

We picked up on your scent and you’re certainly Hell-hound not Heaven meant. Don’t mind me I’m bipolar one probably schizo too, but I can tell you one thing it’s time for you to exit stage left. They’re pulling you offstage with a big hook, your majesty. A jester sees more than you. You don’t know a hill of beans about much of anything so lock me up, tie me down, wrap me up in an arms-crossed gown. Lock the door, throw away the key as you gaslight that I’m the psychopath, not you just me. You see, I’m part of a force. A force of reckoning. Let’s just say I’m a fine grain of the source.

We’re tired of your boasting so it’s time for a roasting. Too cute? Too many budding branches? Well we’re just really tired of your unwilling advances. Not mere glances in your direction. It’s in the dehumanizing and minimizing the heart of our once great land. My prose, my language too flowery for some, but let me guess you have no idea what I confess to you thy king don dumb. I thought I’d help you out. I know your intelligence hits dead-center on the bell curve of IQ mediocrity. Sub-par, so I decided to rhyme a few of these words together to help you. Simple-minded nursery rhyming.

Don't worry I’ll give up the rhyme in a few more stanzas. I can see from your twitchy face you’re going bananas. Don’t worry I’ll keep this short. Just a few stanzas about the “can’t stand ya.” I’m not saying this for likes or even loves. Not even a celebration of what I’m saying, but we’re to the point where we all need to speak up speak out get loud. Unlike you, while I’ve got something to say, I’m not doing this to up my reputation. I’m sure I’ll lose friends, colleagues, and possibly even family members. I’m willing to put it all on the line just to say you will never forget me, you will forever remember.

We’re all witnessing the same disgrace that shows up every morning, every night on the news with your mottled, angry face. There’s nothing left for you to ruin because at this point it’s time we make the call, the end of your time. Time to extinguish your hellish miming mind of madness stance. I can guarantee we’ll not only sing to your demise. We’ll take it to the streets, and dance barefooted feet.

I’ve gotta say the three of you have never belonged. This is not your country. It is not your song. This world is ours to grow, to thrive, to live, to love, and even to die. While you lurk away back into the shadows from whence you came, you will never, ever generate the fame. This infamy you’ve tried to manifest going through ill-fated ways in order to give yourself more gaze. Your flocks from those zombie-apocalypsed, lazy minds worship your one-eyed mission that has absolutely no depth perception, no vision.

Your mind is shallow. Hollow. Bare. A desert with no wind, no oasis to call home. Your shrinking mind, your one eye full of lies, deceit, and utter deception tries, but loses. However we see straight through your musing. Your hand is there, right there open wide not held to your chest tight. You try to hide the evil in your might, but it’s all slipping away through your grasp. Falling between your six fingers of unrealized dreams now nothing but memes.

Am I using too much rhyming flowery prose? Are you starting to doze, again? I'll stop that but what you’re gonna find out is what I know, and I don’t have to be cute to spell it out. Everyone else knows, too, what you’re all about. You, you, you. Mine, mine, mine. None for anyone, now or anytime. We were taught our matrix with rhymes and songs. It helped the medicine go down all day long. Yet at night, awake. We knew our destined fate. Bad news for you. You’re far too late.

One of your cronies reaches for Mars, the other is slippery Pete, and the third one is slithering around while kissing your feet. No lunar lander, more so a red rover, a metallic module, a cosmic nodule mixing molecules where brain matters. Zombies breed Civil War when the solar eclipse above soars. Those in the dark, equipped and molded from formless emboldened woven intrinsic mines of the mind now mindless matter, gray and charred. Your sweeping tariffs now ignored. Your power plays forgot to sway the masses in your direction. Now, to most, you’re just a cyst, an unwanted infection. What is your fate as of late Mister Present Tense? Barred, unsung, and forever benched. Cheers to Bicycle for the purple peacock-inspired deck I used for this post.