Ode to Art in the Age of Ai.

No Matter What Your Art Is, Create It. Relentlessly.

Our gfhx posts (on LinkedIn) are mostly populated, punctuated or adorned with art. Mostly human created visual art. That’s because all idea generation is built upon the bedrock of human creativity. 

Humans beings' innate ability to create beauty has illuminated & inspired mankind's journey through the ages, helping us endure the harsh realities of life. Only Art and its exquisite beauty can offset the ugliness of human suffering brought about by conflict, conquest and change. Man must create art as naturally as they destroy in war. 

Think the ancient pyramids of Egypt and the splendour of the center of creativity in Alexandria. Imagine Greek architecture, art, antiquities, politics, sports and theatre replicated in Roman civilisation. The classical and renaissance artists of Florence, and Venice spread across the Bosporous to Constantinople and beyond, created art not only in the name of religion but out of a deep, innate need for expression.

In the far east, for millennia, the insular Chinese in their jade kingdom were quietly pioneering art in painting, porcelain, silk and tea in harmony with nature till this day. 

Human beings birthed creativity including Ai. Staying the course in the creative field today demands that humans stay on top of Ai inputs, managing output and promoting safety. Navigating today’s complex landscape of creativity, we use Ai to augment and enhance human output creatively. 

Our manifesto - Live By Design, is a clarion call to wake up from past and existing structures of work models that no longer work or are soon to be annihilated in this exciting yet ominous age that the metaphorical 'shifting sands of time' are happening in real time. 

Ai upgrades in improvements and capabilities are being detonated on the Ai battleground in intervals of weeks and months. The fallout is perhaps too soon to be fully felt or imagined. 

While awaiting the imminent fallout, no one really knows what real implications could impact lives or livelihoods. The best anyone can do is embark or join the exodus in seeking higher grounds for human footing in the age of Ai infestation. 

In preparation we implore you to tune into your creator mode or right brain thinking to uncover authentic human creative endeavours which is probably the only resource left for us to thrive upon. 

There will be few roles and job functions created by the advancement of Ai and the new ones would require a higher calibre of human inputs and supplements bordering on creativity and adaptability. 

Human ingenuity, creativity and adaptability, may have been sacrificed long ago in the sterile corridors of corporations and work places but nonetheless they’re still there if you’re human.

So here’s a reminder of who we truly are, laid out in a harsh poetry of five stanzas as an urgent anthem to Live By Design. 

Ode To You For The New Year

Happy New Year 2025

Created by gfhX

Ode to You for the New Year.

If you’re like me and most wannabe overachievers reflecting on the year’s achievements or disappointments, you’re welcome to join in the annual ritual of self-congratulations or self-crucifixion.

Before you indulge in comforting or cursing yourself with the year’s hits or misses, know that you have done enough if not too much, in pursuit of those illusive dreams you think your happiness hinges on. Everything happens or does not happen for a reason. Be thankful.

The past year has already been marked by significant global events, from political and social unrest to advancement in technology chiefly artificial intelligence.

If you’re still reading this,(congratulations, most people don’t read) you will know deep down you have done enough no matter how little or much you think you have expended. We have already arrived at year’s end or in a new one.

So sit back, relax and conspire now to contemplate on how much less you should do in the new year and spend more time doing absolutely nothing.

When you seriously focus on doing nothing, which is probably the most difficult thing to do, you'll achieve more.

In essence, if you’re doing too much you’re probably doing the wrong things.

So if you’ll just slow down, sit in a quiet place and spend some time with yourself you will invariably emerge to do the necessary with consciousness and presence.

What got us here won’t get us there.

2024 showed us the rapid advancement of Ai at dizzying speeds. It’s showing us Ai can do almost anything we can. We probably have to discard everything or every tool we used to get us here. The only thing we have left is ourself as individuals.

We are being stripped of our capabilities starting with our thinking, then they will eventually take over our doing or undoing.

As you read this, factories in China running full capacity 24/7 are called ‘dark factories’ simply because they are fully roboticized, no lighting is required save for a man and a dog. The dog’s job is to prevent the man from touching the buttons. The man’s job is to feed the dog. This is not a joke in China. Young Chinese entrepreneur Eric Chen, founder of Kingswills, a materials science company said in the New York Times recently that; “Probably in the future the competition for the US is not China, but A.I. It is coming for both of us.”

Ai is Coming For Us.

As we stand at a crossroads, humanity is faced with the echoes of its past while holding onto the promise of a hopeful future. We are navigating the complexities of progress, and it’s becoming clear: the age of AI is here, transforming the way we live.

In this fast-evolving world, we must ask ourselves: what truly brings us joy?

It is time to pursue those passions with relentless determination.

Now is the moment to confront our thoughts and fears, recognizing them for what they are — often mere stories of regret and anxiety that play on an endless loop in our mind.

Let us release this mental clutter and embrace the present. Our most authentic selves are waiting to emerge,  to create.

Remember, we do not need to chase after more. Everything we seek is already within us.

Whether you connect with a higher power, the spirit of the universe, or nature itself, know that we were equipped for this journey from the moment we were born.

You are enough. We are enough.

As we step into this new year, let it be a choice for creativity, possibility, and hope.

Happy New Year! The future is ours to create.

"Bad things are happening loudly- the injury, the flat tire, the mistake that gets you criticised. Everybody talks about the moments that make things a hassle.

Good things always happen quietly - the completed workout, the healthy meal, the ten minutes of writing. Nobody talks about the little moments that add up."

                             - James Clear 

One Lazy Sunday Afternoon.

Lazy Sunday Afternoons.

*Batik Painting by Chuah Thean Teng

 

Not to be mistaken for lazy Saturday afternoons or any lazy afternoon, the lazy Sunday afternoon is special if not spiritual in very many little ways. 

 

Apart from having to be on Sunday, the lazy part is largely accessed via feelings, emotions and experience. Lazy is in the sense of being aware but disenchanted. It is a moment where time stands still or at least drags on with a long languid languor of purposelessness. Usually imbued with heat and humidity - hence afternoon, one is caught in a situation one is inextricably part of, even though there’s really nothing happening. The situation as it happens, happens by unfolding unplanned.  A situation within a situation, if you get my drift. 

 

Visualise a situation in real life, in a café by the street, at the seaside, poolside, or simply gazing at nature, where you get to be the observer observing yourself in it. 

It is a scene where everything happens as it should, nothing is amiss. Like a scene in a movie setting waiting for something to happen except nothing happens… not a word is said.

Here is where Sunday makes its distinction, being the sabbath, a holiday largely observed, most people are not bustling about at work or in traffic. Some are cooling off in an after-lunch siesta. Few if none are required in the scene as stillness directs.

This little window of inactivity on a lazy Sunday afternoon is a sweet spot for observers of nothing, at the same time it is ‘full of life’ for the observant. 

 

A childhood memory of such an instance brings me back many years to when I was 7 or 8. It is our family homestead where just three of us were cast in an idyllic scene that framed the perfect lazy Sunday afternoon for me. 

A large luscious lawn spreading out under several coconut palms, under the shade of a short one, sat my mother slicing coconut fronds with a small sharp knife stripping them to their thin stems. The dogs are taking refuge from the heat under the house, my older sister then only a teenager, cradled my head on her knee, using a tiny wooden ear digger exploring my inner ears for wax. My mother while slicing deftly, was surveying the surroundings looking for stray chickens, goats or cows that may wander into our compound. My sister deeply engrossed with the insides of my ear, forced me to keep completely still, only allowing me to take in the entire scene lying on my side as if it was my job to capture, frame and archive this subliminally. While variations of this scene happened several times before at our home, it was this particular situation that stayed with me all these years. Perhaps I was fully engaged with all my senses in that moment feeling a deep sense of connection to the ladies of the house who took care of me. But it wasn’t just about the ladies in the scene as I recall the entire vignette comprising even the smells and texture of the grass, trees, plants, shrubs, background fence, including the large Chiku tree at the end of the fence gently stirring in the afternoon breeze. It was a periphery vision that I had tuned into. A sort of floodlight vision that augmented my spotlight vision that afforded me an expansive even oceanic feel to experiencing the life I was living. 

On that lazy Sunday afternoon, I felt I had a place in this big, complicated, and mysterious world I was thrust into. I felt safe coupled with deep physical and emotional comfort not fully comprehending then, that what I felt was love. 

*Batik painting featured - Chuah Thean Teng, Malaysian artist born 1914 in Fujian, China is widely regarded as the "father of batik art" who developed batik as a means of painting;^[1] "his adaptation of the traditional batik medium into an accepted form of painting ... elevated the status of batik as a craft to an art medium."^[5]

I love you. HB Zane.

 Today is my son’s birthday. A son. A good son. 

Performance machines with style

What makes a good son? 

A person who is kind and considerate. 

A person who is fearless. 

A responsible person. 

A caring person. 

A person who constantly looks out for his loved ones, his friends, and whoever he cares to look out for. 

A person who does the right thing whenever and wherever. 

But Good Sons are aplenty in this world. 

When a good son becomes your best friend, now that’s special. Really special. 

And that’s what my son is to me. My best friend. 

What makes a best friend? 

A person who spend time with you no matter where or when. 

A person who reaches out to you ever so often just because. 

A person you’re not afraid to be naked with in body and soul. 

A person who you can be totally honest and share feelings with. 

A person who you can get sloshed or stoned out of your mind with. 

A person who will hang out and wait around for you while you do silly things, running around looking for antiquities, experiences or an expedition to absurd places like Cupertino. Or to patiently be present while you slowly squander time in museums & art galleries. 

A person who shares your taste in music and food. 

A person who inspires everyone in his life by setting standards that lifts everyone and everything around him. 

An artist who is kind and compassionate with people yet strict and stoic with himself in maintaining astronomical aspirations in his craft. 

Such a person is rare. And that person brightens up everyone’s life. 

What joy it is to have a good son as well as a best friend. 

Happy Birthday My Son. My Best Friend. 

What you do inspires me to no end. 

Since you were little you were a bright happy spark reaching for the stars. 

That’s where you are from and what you’re made of. Stars and Stardust. 

You can be anything you want to be. 

But you already know that. 

Proud and so happy for you. My Man.

Life's like that.

Here’s a song I have been waiting and yet to dedicate to someone. I am so happy I get to dedicate this song to you. 

Just know that the music you’ve appreciated and shared with me keeps me company for many nights on my balcony. And tonight I’ll be partying like never before to all the music we love and share.  

Queen kicked off tonight’s party. My favourite rock band which I’m sure is one of yours. 

Here's one more...

Enjoy your day & everyday son. 

P/s. And this one of course is gold;

Pp/s; To get the full picture, read my previous post for you on "Music is the sound of emotions"

I love you. One Fine Saturday afternoon.

 One Fine Saturday in September. 

I had just finished a short but productive meeting with my Brunei friend and distributor at The Westin in Bukit Bintang. As I made my way back, I walked the short distance fr the hotel to the MRT station positioned right in front of Lot 10. This iconic old-school mall also houses many interesting stores as well as Isetan- my favourite Japanese dept store chain with unrivalled customer service. 

I took the escalators up and after two floors decided to browse along one while heading towards Isetan. 

A traditional red Batek sarong draped over a blue painted fence caught my eye. It was a painting hanging on the wall of an art gallery. The watercolour artist Chang Fee Ming came to mind, only he can accurately capture intricate details of traditional Batek sarongs and rural scenes so beautifully. It was rare to see real artworks by the famous Terengganu native that I simply had to see this one up close. After all most of his works are locked up in private collection and are quickly sold at rightly expensive prices. 

“A Blessing Morning” ~ Ting Cho Chien
Acrylic on canvas 152.6cm x 91.5cm

I was wrong. The artist is Ting Cho Chien, 52 born in Miri, Sarawak. His paintings in acrylic, are very competently executed displaying deftness of subject in fine detail. This is his 4th solo exhibition and it is titled “ Wish On The Same Big Sky” which showcases work between 2020-2022 - The pandemic years. Hence the title, fashioned after lyrics in the song “Somewhere out there” featured in the non-Disney animated musical- An American Tail. I spent some time admiring the art pieces from the exhibition as well as works of other artists on display including a few pieces by Eng Tay, a New York trained Malaysian artist whose figurative abstract paintings center on love and family. 

"Happy Hours" ~ Eng Tay, Oil on canvas 30cm x 40cm

"Precious Time"~ Eng Tay, Oil on canvas 24cm x 24cm.

'Cheerfulness' ~ Yap Chin Hoe, mixed on canvas 20cm x20cm.

Having satiated my soul, I made my way to the upper floors of Isetan where they have authentic Japanese merchandise, crafts and curios on display. Although the offerings were getting less and less over the pandemic years, this experimental, experiential concept store, a first outside of Japan, is a delight to explore. I browsed for a few minutes and managed to pick a couple of fine porcelain rice bowls for my collection and was very well served by an attentive sales assistant named Nur. I thanked her and bid her goodbye as I took the carefully wrapped bowls and escalators down to the ground floor and exited the mall’s main entrance a few steps opposite the MRT station. 

This three-tiered underground station has one level for the concourse & ticketing counters, one level down for the south Kajang bound trains and one more level down for north Kwasa Damansara bound trains. This is probably the only station with such a unique configuration. 

I caught the north bound Kwasa Damansara train that arrived promptly together with a throng of other passengers. Fellow Malaysians of various race, age, and fashion sense, spend their Saturday afternoon with loved ones embarking and disembarking KL's still spanking new MRT coaches. It was a pleasant sight to behold and to be apart of as families, youngsters, strangers, most standing, some sitting, mingle and mix in the casual commute with deference and respect for each other. The children travelling in prams or on tiny feet were especially endearing to watch and interact with. Their genuine smiles seem to be permanently etched on their faces. Even the ones with little masks on. 

After only two stops, I disembarked at Pasar Seni station to catch my connecting LRT to Bangsar. The lift took us up from the underground MRT to the adjoining LRT concourse and the escalator to the above ground platform. As I gently stepped off the escalator to the open air platform, I saw her for the first time- A Fairy, resplendent in costume of olden-day China. Almost exactly like the floating fairy images on mooncake boxes and firecracker packets. 

She was standing near the start of the platform in front of a pillar and a huge standing fan. Her hair was neatly tied up in a bunch like a headgear, adorned with pink and purple faux roses at the back. Her face, hidden by a mandatory white face mask made her all the more mysterious. Her almond shaped eyes peered at me from under finely shaped high eyebrows, two small pieces of white jade stones, one larger than the other, are embedded in the middle of her forehead. From her ears, headphone cables flow down her robe attached to her phone in her right hand. On her left hand, she holds the handle of a round silk fan embroidered with a pair of pandas playing under the branches of a cherry blossom. Her peach coloured silk overcoat was trimmed with a light olive band lightly embroidered with flowers, running around the lapels on her shoulders down to her front edges falling well below her knees. A red blouse and a long sweeping white pleated skirt, that hides a pair of silk embroidered slippers with upturned tips, complete the mystical creature's ensemble. From a distance she looked like a floating apparition.

Having never seen a fairy in person before, I was dumbfounded to say the least. What would you have done? I kept looking at her, discreetly taking pictures from my mobile. She was indeed very meticulously costumed and I was fascinated. I looked around to see if there was a camera crew somewhere filming her. There wasn't. The people standing around her were pretty nonchalant about her 'dress'. No one tried to chat her up nor anyone was conscious about distancing themselves from this 'fairy'. I simply stood observing her and the people around her and I surmised that commuters these days are unperturbed with oddity and have respect for each others individuality and creativity.

'The Fairy's Back' ~ Pineforest.

The train arrived and she effortlessly 'floated' from the platform into the coach as the doors slid open. The people, disembarking or embarking seem to part like water from a ship's hull when she boarded. I followed close behind into the first coach filling to standing room only.

The fairy was hanging nonchalantly onto a hand strap while the train lurched forward, after two stops arrived at my destination- Bangsar station. I squeezed past the thick facade of bodies to disembark, as I brushed past the fairy before stepping on the platform, I told her exactly how she looked. 

She let out a startled "Oh..! Thank you" as I walked out of her life down to my favourite Indian restaurant in Bangsar Utama for my thosai and teh tarek done to my specifications by Mani and his crew. It was a fine Saturday indeed.

"Thosai with 2-chutneys, fish curry, dhal curry" by Chief cook Mani.

I wish you fine days ahead.

P/s. Have you seen a fairy up front before?

I love you. Yesterday, today and tomorrow.

I chanced upon a rare gem as I randomly browsed through 'The Essential Gibran' hardback. The only one remaining in my bookshelf of the two copies I purchased from The Strand book store in NYC.

This piece hit me hard in the silence of the night as I read it aloud. 

So hard that I refuse to let it lay idle, lost in the pages of the hardback tucked away in a bookshelf. 

I would prefer it laid out in a post exposed to my little world in my meditations. 

And if only one person were to read and enjoy the sublime beauty it represents, I would be truly happy.

 Yesterday, today and tomorrow. ~ Khalil Gibran

I said to my friend,

    'See her leaning over his arm?

    Yesterday she leaned over my arm'.

And he said:

    'Tomorrow she will lean over mine'.

And I said:

    'See her sitting at his side;

    And yesterday she sat at my side'.

And he said:

    'Tomorrow she will sit at mine'.

And I said,

    'Don't you see her drinking from his cup?

    And yesterday she sipped from mine'.

And he said:

    'Tomorrow she will drink from mine'.

And I said,

    'Look how she glances at him with eyes full of love!

    And with just such love, yesterday she glanced at me'.

And he said:

    'Tomorrow she will glance at me likewise'.

And I said,

    'Listen to her whispering songs of love in his ears.

    And yesterday she whispered the same songs in mine'.

And he said:

    'Tomorrow she will whisper them in mine'.

And I said,

    'Look at her embracing him, and yesterday she embraced me'.

And he said:

    'Tomorrow she will lie in my arms'.

And I said, 

    'What a strange woman she is!!'

And he said:

    'She is Life'.

I love you. Reading and Relationships.

What's the relationship between Reading & Relationships?

If you can approach a relationship the same way you approach reading a book. You will not only succeed but enjoy it tremendously.

Hence the saying; 'you can read a person like a book' 

Doing both well simply requires only one thing - Paying Attention. 

My obsession with books heightened when I spent some time working and travelling with the world's largest retailer of analogue books. I enjoyed every moment of the job. I especially loved the view from my office which overlooked the cavernous book warehouses on the premises. I felt cocooned, coddled, and privileged to be in the presence of millions of books. 

When not in the office, we took the show on the road traversing the region bringing stories, delight, and knowledge to the far reaches of Indonesia, Philippines, Pakistan, Myanmar, the Middle East, Sabah, Sarawak, Taiwan, Korea, and also throughout Malaysia.

Perhaps the best part of the job was when all the books we ship are finally sorted, catalogued, and displayed in the huge halls we occupy for ten days in each location. I get to feast on the thousands of titles on display and even browse titles of interest and later purchase them for my collection. Also equally delightful is when I get to chat with people of all ages, vocations, and sizes about what's happening in their part of the world. Made many friends and book recommendations that way. 

It must be said that when our book sale comes to town, things get pretty frenetic and even chaotic. 

It is an event much anticipated as no other can bring this many titles at such rock bottom prices. 

Taipei has got to be one of the most intense cities in my experience. This very aggressive Asian economic powerhouse is mainly driven by tiger mums fighting for a better life for their young ones. 

They know it is books that will determine a better life for their future. Especially English books.  

I observe the same sentiment exists in most locations we traverse to.

 

Mothers and parents of this age realize the immense power of analogue books in the digital age. 

Go figure.

On a similar tack, building relationships in the digital age must also harness the power of tangible, physical presence called the human touch. No one can deny that human beings need physical proximity, interaction, and touch. That is what separates us from mere interactions in the virtual space. 

Just as online books and audio editions of books can deliver the message, the printed form takes a physical shape that rests in the palms of our hands. We gently caress the cover and the pages, turning them over and over with our fingers with each page and each chapter, allowing the words to flow from each page of printed ink across the paper transforming the message and meaning into our eyes, through our senses, and into the mind. 

The message sinks in, we sit back and reflect upon the subtlety of the story or severity of the sentence. 

We remember to catch our breath and along with it, the scent of the wood in the paper upon which the entire book was printed. Suitably aroused and intoxicated with the physical ritual with good amounts of dopamine and endorphins produced, we dive in for more. This sequence of love-making to a book can also be applied to that of a lover.

The act of reading a physical book or the act of interacting with a person in person is different from an online experience simply because the online experience restricts communication only to the mind level. Whereas physicality engages our whole being, our human experience is a totally physical one that engages all of our body parts, mind, heart, and life energies.

This is probably what it means to have a human experience with all our sense perceptions. 

What book/s are you reading now? 

Or are you currently in a relationship?

 

Remember... to enjoy them just pay close attention.

I love you. Happy Birthday Zane.

For Zane in October.

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

"Music is the sound of emotions" ~ Victor Hugo 

That must be true because no other medium can evoke so many similar emotions with so many different compositions and instrumentation. 

What I am referring to is the ability of music & musicians to evoke the feeling of love in so many different & endless ways. 

When we pay attention & listen to them we are transformed into the ether in tune with the cosmos. 

Yet we don’t listen to music near enough. 

Like we don’t spend time with nature near enough. 

 Zane seems to have a set of earphones permanently plugged into his ears. 

 He has arguably the best music sense in the family. 

He has diverted my love for commercial jazz deep into mainstream jazz. 

I am thankful our music filled family home was instilled early in his childhood. 

He taught me how to listen to the emotions in music. It started with Mulgrew Miller’s classic; 

“it never entered my mind”  I will never forget it; he told me to listen to the emotions Miller was trying to make us feel. I did. And ever since I was hooked. Who could imagine? It never entered my mind...!

I now have the ability to appreciate true Jazz music & history through Zane. 

As a result I am in bliss every night. 

Thank you son. Happy Birthday. 

I am so proud of how you’ve turned out and who you have become. 

Courtesy of www.PaulCezanne.org

You are a true artist. A person who wants to excel in the arts. 

I named you after Paul Cezanne, whose father was against him being an artist. I love his art and I wanted you to be an artist.  His artistic style has been described to as having "spectacular depth of feelings." 

Picasso said this of him; "Paul Cezanne was my one and only master." To other artists, "his compositions were akin to god's."

You are living testimony. You appreciate art to the depths and you are also an artist to the depths. 

You have and will continue to live the promise you made to the family- That if you want to be a cobbler then be the best dang cobbler there is! 

Thank you. 

I love you. Son. 

Be well. Be conscious just the way you are.

P/S. You look really good. Sharp.

may i feel

Following my earlier post on the poetry of ee cummings here, 

I've stumbled upon yet another one of his love poems that borders more on the physical side of love that America's second most popular poet writes prolific. 

 

may i feel said he 

may i feel said he (i'll squeal said she, just once said he) 

it's fun said she (may i touch said he, how much said she, a lot said he) 

why not said she (let's go said he, not too far said she, what's too far said he, where you are said she) 

may i stay said he (which way said she, like this said he, if you kiss said she, may i move said he, is it love said she) 

if you're willing said he (but you're killing said she, but it's life said he, but your wife said she, now said he) 

ow said she (tiptop said he, don't stop said she, oh no said he) go slow said she, (cccome? said he, ummm said she) you're divine! said he (you are Mine said she)

Cummings always considered himself just as much a painter as he was a poet or writer. Especially in his later years, spent at his home in New Hampshire, Cummings would paint during the day and then write at night. Beginning with his years at Harvard and continuing on into the 1920s, Cummings identified with the artistic movements of Cubism, Dada, and Surrealism. He particularly admired the work of Pablo Picasso. 

 It's also his birthday today. Happy Birthday Edward Estlin Cummings. What a love fiend you are.