My Forrest Gumpy Life: Willie Mays' Home Run was Mine!

The earliest incidence of my Gumpy tales happens in 1965 when I was 10. I was with my dad visiting his uncle in St. Louis. 

Because I'd been on a champion baseball team a year before and had a significant interest in baseball, Dad gifted me with a pro game between the St. Louis Cardinals and the San Francisco Giants. He could only afford the cheapest tickets so we sat in the cheap wooden bleachers behind left field. There were very few around us. I of course had brought my mit just in case there was a fly ball.

Which there was. Willie Mays' came up to bat and knocked a home run right into the bleachers beyond left field. Right at me! 

Mays was a hero of mine, as I'd spent several years across the bay and the Giants were my team. Nothing could have been more thrilling!

The ball came flying out of the sky and bounced on an empty bleacher about a dozen rows ahead of us. I grabbed my mit, ready to catch the ball flying right at my face. But there was a guy sitting in front of us a couple rows. He leapt to his feet and caught the fly. End of story. And a little boy's connection with the great Willie Mays.

What happened to Beauty?

Why can't the most advanced civilization in history create more beauty? This issue has always worried me. Yes, the demise of community cohesion is one culprit. (Why make beauty for such a blatantly materialistic, economic-centered society?) A more human-centered approach to public space would give something to all of us; AND our progeny.

Take the recent art sale of an NFT for $69 million. (Some of this artist's NFT works sell for a reasonable $1). Our culture is rapidly abandoning real body-centered deights (beauty, good foods, nature, face-to-face relationships, etc. etc.) in favor of strange intellectual hopes ("I own something unique and you should be impressed!") Apparently the mysterious buyer of the NFT is going to profit from splitting the digital file into many bits and selling those. Now you can buy a small piece of a unique NFT, an idea, that no one else owns! 

Humans crave beauty, a critical and universal nutrient that has largely lost its conscious value. Yet our bodies insist on that value, despite all our calculations to the contrary. Someday all those vacuous hopes will collapse as the young ones see through such blatant self-importance, insisting on real body-centered values. This is of course assuming that AI––which has no such inconvenient sensuous desires–– doesn't take over the world. Yes, the emperor has no clothes!

How does an artist survive in a capitalist culture?

In capitalism, virtually the only value recognized in the arts is in either entertainment or decoration (the items that can sell; commodities). Of course there is a very vibrant art collection market, but that's as much about theater as quality. Very little of what we encounter in art is about the meaningful qualities of artworks as they effect human hearts, (much of that found in non-profit art museums.) Many artists struggle with how to create meaningful art in that context. ome to create art that can't be sold–– that disappears, is destroyed by natural forces or in other ways, as the artist Banksy recently did, programing an artwork sold at auction to immediately be shred when the gavel came down! 

My Muse altar in my studio

I was all my young life tormented by this inescapable dilemma.  Then 30 years ago with my sister's help, I created the perfect solution for me: she and I wrote the vows for a religious/artistic order that I then devoted myself to. The vows are modeled on those of monastic orders, including Poverty (living close to the bone), Chastity (remaining faithful to my Muse alone) and Obedience, (obeying the Muse's voice, regardless how ridiculous I feel the call to be.) This allowed me to devote myself to a greater power rather than the depraved forces of the market. (One of the worst things that can happen to an artist is success, which then traps them in a prison of obedience to outside forces and usually kills the art.) 

For me, devoting myself to the Muse gave my life purpose and direction that completed me and has rescued me from disaster ever since. (The image is of my altar to my Muse, where I make sacrifices and offer gifts.) Thus my "art" only appears so to others. In my own mind, these productions are rather prayers, outpourings of my soul only between me and God. They only become "art" when shared with another person, who can of course see in them whatever they wish. So it is that I'm the creator of my own religion, and the sole member of it!

My Forrest Gumpy Life: Archbishop Tutu

It was 1987 when I got a call from a national United Methodist Church committee that wanted to award

South African anti-apartheid activist and spokesperson Archbishop Desmond Tutu one of my sculptures at an upcoming global event where he was to be the featured speaker. I was of course thrilled to also present the sculpture to him in person, his being one of my ultimate heros! It just so happens my political satire group the Montana Logging and Ballet Co. was also scheduled to perform at that conference, so when they heard about it they asked if we could sing him a song at the presentation. Indeed, yes!

So on the appointed day in Louisville, KY, the four of us were ushered into a dining room where the presentation was to be made. I'll never forget the moment Tutu stepped into the room. He's so short that no one at any distance could see him but we all felt the electricity when he entered! The MLBC was invited up to the podium to sing a song my brother Steve wrote for the occasion, Take the Barriers Down. Then I presented the sculpture to Tutu, who was about as gracious as a person could be in receiving it. He cradled the bronze and said he wanted to take it on the plane with him! (Being absolutely bristling with sharp points, that would never be allowed!) Instead his manager assured me it would be safely delivered to him.

"I Shot an Angel by Mistake", bronze by Tim Holmes

It was the next day as Tutu was introduced for his major speech that, passing by our table, he said to us he wanted to invite us to South Africa! We were of course flattered, but as there was a cultural boycott of the South African racist apartheid government in effect, we instead inquired with his people whether we could instigate a fundraiser in the US for his work. He agreed, we embarked on creating a special Washington DC event for him, and thus began a long relationship with Tutu, which resulted in several projects over the next few years, including his coming to Montana for a special concert in 1990.

Tutu is perhaps one of the most pivotal personalities of the 20th century, being instrumental, along with Nelson Mandela, in bringing about the relatively peaceful transition of South Africa into the community of democratic nations, ond of the most remarkable events of our time! Meanwhile, I created several sculptures for various of Tutu's projects, we became friends, along with his daughter Mpho, and to this day I am in touch with Tutu's secretary, whom we stayed with in Cape Town for a trip, shortly after the first open and free South African election in 1994 after 500 years of brutal racial repression. I feel incredibly lucky to have been involved in that historical moment and will be forever grateful to Tutu and his team for including me!

(Ed. note: My Forrest Gumpy Life is a collection of very short stories of the amazing encounters that seem to happen to me with unusual frequency. The other chapters appear in this blog.)

Spreading Generosity

My wife Sam and our 11-year-old daughter Penny came home this week with a surprise: a homeless man. The temperature had dipped to -10 and was plunging toward -35 the next day (with a wind chill of -58!)

Sam and Penny had spent the previous hour driving around looking for homeless people that had not been able to get indoors. At one point they saw a man curled up in a sleeping bag. They asked him if he had a place to get warm. No. So they invited him home to stay with us until the weather warms, thereby likely saving his life. (Another man was rescued by our friend Mark and rushed to the hospital just before he froze.)

Our city's homeless shelter is understaffed, another emergency shelter not ready yet and another group home closed. Though the city's been planning for months to meet the challenge of a growing homeless population, and though winter happens every year, still we barely averted a crisis and only because of people like Sam and Mark. 

Sure, such generosity takes some courage. But if Penny can joke comfortably with her new homeless friend across the dinner table, couldn't more of us muster the courage to offer a kindness to a stranger? I'm sure some folks will condemn us for not being more suspicious, but that is simply not the kind of people we wish to be. The world you see around you is a reflection of who you are. We firmly believe in the goodness of people. Though of course some are really sick, we've yet to meet a single homeless person who causes us fear.

The cold snap is not over and we may yet hear that someone was overlooked and died. If so I expect many will wish they had done more. Our new friend Loren, 58 and disabled, will still have to climb back into self-sufficiency, but with a few days of respite from the cold world and some needed documents, his chances are much better. And through this interaction our family not only gets to know an interesting new friend, but is given twin priceless gifts: meaning and happiness. Generosity, for its great rewards, is really not that hard.

Taking Our Moral Temperature

There is a major rot in the heart of American culture that I've worried about for some time but that's rarely recognized. So it was with great appreciation that I read David Brooks' wonderful article in the Atlantic, How America Got Mean. His point is that for most of our nation's history there was a widespread focus on moral education, not just in churches but in many local groups and the society at large. There was (until the post-WWII period, he says) a cultural incentive to make people better individuals. That social movement was replaced with a self-focused cultural wave that makes for an increasingly narcissistic society.

This issue is not easy to identify, but for me is addressed most directly with the question: "What happens to a culture that suddenly abandons its traditional religious devotions?" Regardless of how you feel about religion, it does have a powerful effect on a culture. We can of course point to all the fundamentalist tragedies in history as evidence of the horrors of religion, but that ignores much of the reality, much like saying "politics is the cause of war". We need more information. Much like the conservative/liberal scale in politics, religions always exhibit a parallel wide spread along a  scale from the dogmatic to the mystical. Only those who recognize this powerful difference can even make sense of religion's effects on culture.

So it was with significant eye-rolling that I read a refutation of Brooks' article by Thomas Zimmer that has some great criticisms but totally misses the point. He accuses Brooks of oversimplifying the moral critique by himself oversimplifying the conservative perspective: 

Much of the mainstream political discourse is shaped by nostalgia – and the Right understands that they can latch onto that, weaponize it, in order to make their political project of rolling back the social and political progress of the past century more attractive to people who probably don’t consider themselves conservatives, certainly not reactionaries.

I agree with his concept that misplaced nostalgia is often used as an excuse for regression by conservatives, but that's not what's going on here, a fact that only exposes the crudity of Zimmer's moral awareness. He's not alone. In fact few in general discourse exhibit the kind of delicacy to distinguish the differences in religious argument. 

Jumping on the oversimplification bandwagon, this is a complex topic that can't be reduced to simple soundbites. I'll simply say that one major reason why every society that we know of has formed its culture around a religious idea is that it provides a civilizing force to the otherwise pretty crude human character. Too often the powerbrokers of religion use their power for further debasement, but the core role of religion is to make people better. 

Brooks' point is not that "moral education" can be used to justify such behaviour, as Zimmer says, but that a culture needs an uplifting force to create good citizens. I'd call that force "religion" (as polluted as that word's become!), the idea that people should be nice to each other. Way oversimplified, but the basic characteristic of religion is that there's a bigger meaning to life than one's tiny needs and that following the golden rule opens a person to that meaning.

My point here is that religion (as it forms in the human heart, before colonization by the powers that would usurp it) urges people to be better. Failing that is there any other model from which "moral education" can spring? And without moral uplift, there is only one direction a culture will drift.

I Am a Body Shamer

I live in a body shaming culture and it's in this context that I've lived my whole life as a figurative sculptor, trying to overcome the tendency of many viewers to sexualize what I do. I've noticed that over the years I've drifted away from depicting figures that could be sexualized more easily. And this troubles me. I too am damaged by the culture.

We are all damaged in different ways, but mine is unique because of my profession. I would guess that I'm the only figurative sculptor you know, so it could be that I have a useful perspective. Or I may simply irritate you. You decide.

Recently I placed an ad for models for a class I'm teaching in Figure Drawing. I usually get a number of "beautiful", trim young women and perhaps one trim young man replying. (This tells me that only such people would dare risk being exposed). Then I got a reply and photos from the mother of a young woman who was starting a modeling career and wanted to model. I replied that she looked pretty young to me and she'd have to sign for the girl unless she was 18. Turns out she's 12! So I replied that I would consider it after she turns 16 (age of consent in Montana) and only if the mom was present.

This offer caused some ire among the women of my family. They're alarmed that any mom would offer her daughter like that and found it very creepy. I can see why, but I argue that young people–– and especially girls–– need to have some experience of exposure in a group (like the group showers we had in my school days) in order to feel what a non-sexual body exposure feels like; because we are exposed way too much to sexualized exposure (almost the only way we experience bodies in this culture!)

Now that the showers in our schools stand unused, I worry that kids won't ever have a non-sexualized experience of exposing their bodies. You may say that's not needed. I wonder how otherwise a child will ever be introduced to a non-sexual body or gain a sense of body-esteem without some such exposure. In Europe there is nudity on some beaches, nudes in the architecture and partly naked kids appear in ads there, apparently without the culture nosediving into depravity. I think the reason is that there's less fear of nudity and sexual exploitation. 

We of course want to protect our kids! I have a 10-year-old daughter that's been sexually abused and I will protect her with my life! But that doesn't mean I want to keep her from experiencing others' non-sexual appreciation of her body. I feel it would help her to know what an exploitive situation feels like so she could resist it the more fervently. I expect you to disagree, so then let me ask you some questions.

If you yourself would not expose your body to a group (say, modeling for an art class) can you truly say that your body esteem is in good shape? You may say it's just a matter of privacy, but do you feel the same of some lovely painting in your house? Why would you not want to show something beautiful to a group that is gathered for that very purpose? If you reply that it's just your preference, I would say this is evidence of the sexualizing of the body in our culture. If you think the only person you want to share your body image with is your significant other, then you've sexualized your nudity; that's its only value and the only circumstance under which you would share it.

So how would it feel to you if you were to be exposed and the others' response was "Oh, what a beautiful human that is!" ?? You might say, I'd never do that!, but then I ask again, what is the thing you're protecting, is it your actual self-esteem, or are you simply retreating into the safety of our Shame Culture?

Another tricky question: Do you think images in art of naked children should be banned? Most would say no. To those I would ask, how are those images then to be formed? Is the sight of a child's body so dangerous and we adults so flawed that we have to ban artists from using naked children as models? Here most would say yes. So then, under what circumstances can such art be made? I don't ask these questions looking for clever answers, but to invite you to wrestle seriously with the kinds of issues I've struggled with for decades. (I made a sculpture of a naked boy in the 80's that now troubles me because the culture has changed. Now what?? Another has been veiled for 34 years because I can find no public institution that will agree to unveil it.)

This struggle has similarities to the racial struggle of 100 years ago. Then the whole culture was comfortably racist (for us white folks), and it was easy to say, oh well, that's just the way things are. Many of us today would like to see a more body-positive culture (we're making progress!), but that's just the way things are. I believe that the human body was inalianably created good and beautiful. Sex is a gift but not the body's purpose or destiny. In a sexualized culture, we are all sickened. More than responding I'm not a shamer, it's helpful to say "I too am a body shamer, but want to heal". In this context I say I long for a day when a person is judged not by their skin but by the content of their character!

Hindu Nationalists Attack My Art

India's PM Narendra Modi is currently visiting the US. I had my own run-in a few years ago with repressive Hindu nationalists such as Modi, over this image I published of the 16th century Hindu mystic Mirabai. Surprise, surprise– the dialog wasn't about how significant or powerful the image is!

"Mirabai Writes a Tale"

Mirabai, a luminous poet, is well-known today in Indian culture but almost unknown in the west. Like the Buddha, she left a pampered life as a royal princess to go into the wilderness seeking the Divine. Legend says that she (as well as other women mystics for the bhakti sect) would wander naked through rural villages singing her songs of praise to the god she calls Giridhara. Though no one can know her motivations for sure, obviously she had a profound impact. I am living proof, as through the mists of history she has inspired me like no other person! In Hinduism I have found great examples like hers in the historic record of appearance of the radical sanctity of the human body.

So it is with sadness that I find it is Hindus who object to this image, on the grounds that nudity = degradation. Fear of the flesh is nearly universal among Western religions, which have covered the body out of fear of its beauty and power, so this is no surprise. But how can genuine illumination come alive in a place where fear and depravity rules? How can ugliness be transformed into beauty? Unlike reading illiteracy, which can be cured with simple education, this kind of cultural illiteracy can only be cured form the inside out. The ability to care or to see beauty comes not from encouragement (though that helps) but from a deep gratitude and joy from within. Like life itself, no one can give it to anyone else!

These Hindus want me to disappear this work because they can see nothing but depravity in it (actually, they petitioned me to take if off the internet, by reproducing it in full!) I find this tragic (and all too common!) and I do feel sorry, but no one else can help them. All of us must find beauty by coming alive– or not– on our own.

Religious Terrorism Comes For Us

We're rightfully horrified by religious zealots who perpetrate murder by some twisted dogma, festered into life-denying campaigns. Now it's time for us to recognize the same sort of spiritual violence being perpetrated across our nation in the name of belief systems being forced on the populace by the few. In a nation constructed on the principle of no state religion, this is a travesty all Americans should fight against. I say this as a devout Christian.

"American Jihad", by Tim Holmes

I'm horrified that zealots who call themselves "Christian" using the powerfully transformative message of Christ for violent ends. They thereby not only trample the rights of others, but this profligacy also ruins the idea of 'religion' in the minds of the generations, who can tell from a distance this has nothing to do with Christ's message of love. The religious right is often the first community to suggest we address societal problems with violence, supporting "pro-life" and other restrictions on women, championing guns, supporting the death penalty and refusing health care to trans people and the poor. It's curious how they can twist violent solutions from the teachings of Prince of Peace. With such violence peppering daily news, no wonder the churches are emptying out!

The fundamentalist streak of the Christian faith began shortly after Darwin published his seminal 1859 work pointing out that creation, like ourselves, is not fixed but in process. Those who confused faith with certainty felt threatened, and so scared whole congregations to rally around an idea that creation was fixed by a metaphor used in an ancient creation story that eventually was crystallized into the Bible we know, (including two different versions of the Creation! How often do fundamentalists mention that?) But none of that has to do with Christ. A Christian is one who supposedly follows the example of Jesus, the guy who said "You have heard it said...but I tell you...". These are not the words of a fundamentalist. Yet the general understanding of 'faith' is rooted in fundamentalist fears.

The real transformative work of the Christian faith is often lost under the bloody footprints of church institutions, which were often controlled by people who loved power more than Jesus. Nevertheless, the most respected of institutions in Western culture–– our hospitals, universities, public schools, welfare programs–– were begun by faith organizations. The inspiration of love can be clearly seen in all these faith institutions before they were taken over largely by corporations and bureaucracies. Now in the services of many of them can hardly be discerned a motivation from love.

I come from six generations of Methodist ministers. We are among a quiet population of millions of religious people, Christians among them, who take Love seriously and work in our world to do acts of kindness to all. Love is our master but we don't force our ways or refuse our service to anyone, a lesson we learned best from Christ, but a principle shared by many faiths. Love means never forcing. Use of force–– regardless of the identity of the perpetrator–– is violence, not love. And the perpetrators are following their own agenda, not Christ's. We are saddened that our nation has turned against religion, which I feel is the critical medicine we all need to face death. But in our media world, if it bleeds, it leads, so the religious terrorists are the ones that make the headlines and therefor control the dialog.

My pastor father used to say, "The Christian church is the single organization to which membership rests on unworthiness to belong." That kind of humility is critical to keep any of us from becoming our own god, which is a great temptation, particularly because you can find justification for it in the Bible! My tribe is populated by no better people than any other. But we know that love is the most powerful thing in the universe. 

Power-hungry people the world over have seen how fervent is the devotion of people of faith and how easy it is to force their way into the PR office of 'organized religion'. But the resulting religious terrorism can be minimized the more the public can separate the idea of love from the talk of religious identity; of how we are rather than who we are. I doubt the followers of any faith tradition can disagree with that. It all begins with love.

AI Singularity Will Come in Stages

I've been fretting about the coming AI revolution for a decade now. It started when I realized that the biggest threat to the human body was going to be not climate change or political turmoil but the persistent human weakness for tech wizardry. In 2014 there were only 6 people in the world paid full-time to try to prevent AI from wiping out humans (according to AI researcher Nick Bostrom). That year I did my TED talk on The Erotic Crisis about my fears. But then finally journalists started asking what I thought were the right questions; not "will AI kill us?" but "what effect AI will have on human flourishing?" So I felt I could stop obsessing about it and return to artmaking. 

Self portrait in my AI-generated studio

Now we're faced with the game-changing appearance of AI generators, which "create" brand new text or images from human prompts. The results are eerie and downright frightening (as when Bing's Sydney insists that Kevin Roose loved it instead of his wife!) Will humans be obsolete now? Not yet, but it is looking more dire for us every day. (That's why I signed the recent open letter to pause AI development, by The Future of Life Institute.)

I've thought for years that there will not be one Singularity (when AI surpasses human capacities in all cognitive areas), but four consecutive ones, each more alarming and damaging than the last. This not only increases the threat but makes it more difficult to place. The singularity will not so much be a sudden uprising by the machine, but a gradual loss of control by humans (think of the economy suddenly failing for no apparent reason).

The final singularity will be the objective one, when AI actually does overtake humans. I contend that no one will really know when that is because it will make little practical difference. Because that will be proceeded by three others that will mark the end of human dominance on earth.

The first Singularity will be Economic, the point where AI so disrupts employment that vast sectors of the population are made obsolete, as the jobs that have supported us forever are replaced with AI programs that can do the same work, without breaks or any requirements other than power, for pennies.

The second one will be Relational, when humans will no longer be able to tell when they are dealing with a machine or a person. This is already happening in customer service and other such applications where it really doesn't matter much whether the voice on the other end is human as long as your problem is solved. But where the relation is most important–– such as between a political representative and her constituents, or AI posing as intimates–– this will be catastrophic.

The third will be a Political one, when a certain large portion of the population reacts against the strangeness of a newly unfathomable world where humans have lost control. They will blame whomever they hate most (immigrants, Democrats, techies) and, fueled by social media wildfires, launch a war against the perceived perpetrators, regardless of facts.

And of course the final singularity is Loss of human agency, but by that point it will forever be unknowable, which hardly matters. Once civilization is controlled by an invisible hand, humans will simply not matter. “The AI does not love you, nor does it hate you. You are made of atoms it can use for something else," says Eliezer Yudkowsky, quite chillingly.

AI is being developed without controls by competitors for an unbelievably huge prize, a recipe for certain destruction. Even if all parties know it's a race to doom, every one of them will rather be first than see the other guy win. This is fixed human nature, I'm afraid. Since the capitalist market is now our god, greed will be our downfall. In such an environment, AI will steadily grow in capacity while humans will only defend those places where we can see our own weakness. AI will overtake humans not in areas we imagine, but the places we never thought of, since it will operate in ways that never occurred to us! It won't be until after the takeover, if ever, that humans will finally see where our weaknesses actually lie. More likely, we'll never know how we lost that battle. That's of course too late.

I don't see any remedy, other than a full stop, which Yudkowsky recommends. More skepticism and more regulation placed on AI will help slow the crisis. But like Narcissus, we might just die transfixed with the image we see in our reflection. 

I hope we can all apply our humanity to this problem. We need us all. In the meantime, take great refuge in your relationships. Human relationships are what make life worth living. Store up your treasure there!

The Shrinking Umbrella of Veracity

Once it was that one could rest basic trust in the world through a complex web of interpersonal relationships that knit community together. A con-man lived in isolation because he had to keep moving to find fresh suckers. Ironically, the new global connections we feel through the www does quite the opposite. With the internet disease of misinformation, one's only really sure of one's close friends (and sometimes not even then, since sometimes dead people send me friend requests!) It feels like the umbrella of trust shrinks. Who can really be trusted and how can we tell?

I've been troubled over the new AI-generated apps that have become available to the public in the past few months. Like rubbernecking at a car crash, I'm both intrigued and horrified, but can't look away. I love images and reviewing ones spat out by AI is like looking at a whole collection of new art. Granted, some apps are simple and stupid, while some, like DALL-E2 can create some pretty detailed and intriguingly believable images.

Among other subjects I've been exploring are generated images in the style of daguerreotypes. The imitation images, remarkably, have the distinguishing characteristics of "real" history. For instance they're full of 'artifacts' of their production: cracks, wrinkles, dust and hair bits, torn or faded edges, each of which hint at the specific physical difficulties of their creation. The AI-generators convincingly replicate not only image details (like a 3D welt on the man's side), but the bad image quality and artifacts from real photos, resulting in an image that reads like an authentic photo. Even the color bar here intimates that the 'collector' of the photo wanted to preserve its proper historic coloring.

For me, a lifetime fan of historic photography, this means that I read an invented image as if it were recording a real historic event. I know it's fake, but my emotion is captured in any case. I can't convince my heart to not participate, to not be alarmed at what looks like a tragedy. My mind can say "this phoney AI app can't even do a proper face!" but a lifetime of interpreting photos as rooted in reality has trained my heart, which leaps. 

Among hundreds of AI images I've "created", this one continues to haunt me. I know it to be false. So why am I haunted? What in me has been triggered? It is that place in me–– and I would say in all of us–– that is threatened. Any con artist who presents me with this sort of image can capture my heart and I can do nothing about it, except perhaps destroy my compassion. To me this is terrifying. I'm a sitting duck. Not because of AI but because my weakness has been revealed and is now available. How many of my weaknesses are yet to be discovered? And will I know them?

What's more, if anyone sees this image out of this context, how will they know it's not real? There's no material difference between this image and any other historic fact. In a world where a third of the populace believes Jewish space lasers set wildfires, who defends "truth" to whom? When reality cannot be distinguished from simulation the web of relationships that once knit us together in community is shattered. I fear that now, with anyone being able to mass-produce cheap virtual facts faster than the truth can get its boots laced, the umbrella of our trust will shrink to our immediate intimates. The danger is not in AI but in human nature, given increasingly powerful tools. Will we survive ourselves?

Now is the Winter of Our Discontent

Every wonderful gift that tech delivers is accompanied by an invisible cost, often one that lies hidden for decades. Creating SOUL in a human is a lifetime task that gives meaning to life. AI increasingly absolves us of creating soul for ourselves. Doesn't this just continually degrade human ability and empty out our reason for being alive?

"Anima Mundi", by Tim Holmes

As a sculptor I recently prompted an AI image generator to create an artwork in my own style. I didn't like the result but a dear friend looked at it and said "You should make that!" What is my value now? I prefer my own creation, but if my friend doesn't see a difference haven't I lost some of my reason for taking up space on the earth?

This incident doesn't diminish my true value in any sense; I'm still loved and appreciated, and my creativity is intact! But if the whole of my professional life––with my years of struggle, training and refinement–– is suddenly "replaceable" by AI, then haven't I lost my agency? The problem lies not in me, but in the sensitivity of the other. 

So what about when I switch roles and inhabit that of the "other"? I can appreciate an AI-generated painting in the style of Van Gogh, but what have I lost if I can't find that critical human element that is lacking therein? Currently I have to lower my standards significantly to accept an AI "Van Gogh". But if I were paying an artist to create something for me, eventually I might not have to lower my standards at all to accept an instant, free alternative rather than wait months for an expensive original creation. Then what's happened to me? Have I not lost my creative capacity to respond to the human element? Or have I simply decided the human element is worthless to me?

AI-generated image "in the style of Tim Holmes"

We all face the same choice. One is to demand that life present us a struggle and thereby a worthy humanity retains its value. After all, it's the trained pro that's really good at anything; one who's overcome the struggle. On the other path we simply relax into existence as pointless wards of the tech-state, devoid of any talent, skill or reason to aspire to anything! 

Soon none of us will be irreplaceable by a free AI program. Last year I wasn't on that list as an artist. This year I am. I've been made obsolete! Not to my intimates, of course, but to virtually all others. Besides my fervent friends, who will ever pay for an image of mine if they can get a free AI to make one that ––as far as they can tell–– is just as satisfying?

This, now, is the moment of our choice. 

Living an Authentic Life

I was asked recently to address an online group called Design Your Life, about living an authentic life in times when the culture is trying to manipulate our behavior. 

As an artist I've had to resist the forces of the dominant culture for my whole career in order to be myself, and have become pretty good at it. Now that I intentionally make less money every year, I'm happier not doing other's bidding, but following my heart. 

Many people have asked about the presentation, which was recorded. I'm attaching two videos, one of just my talk (26 min.) 

Tim Holmes: Sculpting a Life 

...and one with the whole 2-hour conversation including many insightful and deep questions about living in a culture that is always trying to turn us into something else then we are meant to be. 

Designing Your Life Featuring Artist-Sculptor Tim Holmes Designing Your Life Featuring Artist-Sculptor Tim Holmes

My hope in sharing this is that you will be inspired to listen to your own inner voice. Contact me with any questions:

holmes.studio@yahoo.com

-Tim Holmes

One Thanksgiving in Two Worlds Gives Me a Lesson in Love

My family had another lovely Thanksgiving, seated around a table that's deeply rooted in our beloved traditions of long and loving relationships. My partner Sam and I had driven several hours to pick up my niece and nephew from the train to join Sam's small kids for a luscious feast and games at my sister's home. We had a beautiful day together. Life doesn't get any better that this! In giving thanks on this day I always think of how lucky we are, and remember all those poor souls elsewhere who spend the holiday alone.

"Fallen Angel", by Tim Holmes

After a lovely day Sam's kids and I retired to her place for the night. There, on entering her apartment building we encountered a homeless man wrapped in old blankets before her door. It was Tony. We'd met with Tony several days ago at a fast food joint when the temperatures sunk below zero. Sam works as a peer support specialist for people like this with mental health conditions and part of her work is looking after those who suffer. On that day she was unsure if Tony might be volatile so she wanted some support. She could have asked another pro to go with her, but being short-staffed in these hard times, she did the visit on her own time (unpaid), and asked if I'd go with her. 

My family has always been involved in social justice issues and charity work. But we often operate on the upper strata of the political and social arenas, not in direct services, so this was unusual for me. Sam wanted to check up on Tony and offer some services that might help him lift himself out of misery and severe alcoholism. But throwing a life ring is one thing. For it to work, they have to grab it. Tony was grateful for the offer (probably more for the simple attention!) but seemed unconcerned and resigned to his fate. ("I see either jail or death, I don't care which", he'd said.) As we left she welcomed him again to sleep in the warm hallway of her building.

Now, with Tony blocking the door, we tromped through the snow to enter Sam's apartment by the back door. Inside, the kids began to play and I sunk into the couch, despairing over the situation. Meanwhile, Sam quietly made dinner and coffee for Tony and took it out to him. He, quite drunk but appreciative, thanked her. It wasn't an hour later we were all tucked in our warm beds when we heard Tony out on the frozen stoop, just outside our window, retching and moaning. Sam called the cops to have him removed so the neighbors and we could sleep. (They didn't come.)

Here my own polished sense of Christian charity was tied in knots. The poor guy was obviously in misery. At least he had the decency to barf outside, so why not let him sleep in the hall? She told me she had called Mark, a coworker who a couple years ago was in exactly the same position, living under a bridge as he fought addiction. Mark in now a professional liaison for the homeless and he too has been working with Tony for weeks. On the phone he assured her that–– just like himself–– Tony wasn't yet miserable enough to grab the life ring. He had to decide for himself when it was time to heal. Providing a hot meal and warm place to sleep was compassionate, but was it helping? 

It's very hard for me to think NOT giving aid might be the better choice. But in the company of two seasoned professionals who are as concerned as I am, I have to say they know best. They have both worked to try to help Tony, but it is up to him to decide not to die. No one can do that for him.

Here's where my own privilege does me in. I've never been in that situation, so I can only operate on what I know, following the "Christian compassion" that I know. But Sam and Mark know from experience how to be most helpful. Our system is designed mostly by people like me who may have good intentions but a simplistic approach. As a result the social service systems we've built are sadly lacking in responsiveness, treating suffering people like cattle; the more the better. Thus my Thanksgiving lesson: to learn to love not by class, not by easy solutions, but one individual at a time. If Tony survives his struggle with his demons, it will not be just because a bunch of liberals like me provided social services (which of course save millions) but because dedicated individuals like Sam and Mark loved the suffering person on the ground, where they live! 

Gun Culture is SO Close!

A couple nights ago I was awakened by an argument outside my open window. It was my neighbor shouting at some guy in a car, apparently from work. Shortly the car sped off and I could hear another voice, of a woman calmly introducing herself to the man as the one who lives in the next apartment (sharing a wall). She must have asked him to put it down, as he replied "It's ok, it's pointed at the ground." It was then I saw in the dim light the assault rifle he held by his side. "I'm glad this is a 'Stand Your Ground' state", he added. She then retreated to her apartment and I stood amazed at her courage. I stood there wondering how much danger we were really in (What if the car didn't speed away, or pulled his own gun, or the woman surprised him or the guy's shoelace broke right then??) 

I wish I could say this is a unique situation, but the fact is that I've experienced a number of such incidents within 100 feet of my home or studio over the last 30 years. The first was when a kid living in a house behind my studio brought a friend to show a gun and accidentally shot him in the head... A few years later I had to call 911 when I saw a man with a rifle get out of a car and approach the door of a neighbor friend... Later I got up one morning to see a cop with a rifle hiding behind a tree in my front yard. I quietly opened the door and whispered, "What's going on?" "Hopefully no shooting, get back!" was the reply. Turns out he and his SWAT team, swarming my yard, were able to extract a guy next door who had a host of guns and who'd apparently threatened a family member. And all this is ignoring the incidents of woundings and killings of friends that I didn't witness.

I don't live in a dangerous neighborhood. It's a rather small town and I rarely go out. So is this common, that people around our nation often come into close contact with angry people with guns that we just never hear about because there's not blood enough to make the news?

I look with some longing at such very cute stories like the Japanese man who tried to rob a store with a lighter! Other advanced nations seem to be able to survive without armed citizens, let alone with assault weapons. How much more healthy is their mental state if they don't have to worry about getting shot? As for me I can never again go back to my pre-knowledge innocence of NOT thinking of the current mental state of my neighbor with the assault rifle.

The Danger of AI: It Isn't Where We're Looking!

As a figurative sculptor I became alarmed at the way Americans view the body way back in the 80's. In trying to trace the source of my concern, I arrived at what I call The Erotic Crisis, a gradual abandonment of our bodies in a relentless pursuit of "Progress". (See my TEDx talk on The Erotic Crisis). Since it happens between us and our own flesh, it's very much like climate change on the inside!

While there are many branches of that nasty tree, the one that most alarms me is the threat posed by artificial intelligence (AI). I fully acknowledge the power and good possibilities of this remarkable technology (I think we'd be well-served by an AI U.S. President!), but the dangers are too great to ignore.

The tricky part here is that most people who address it are looking in the wrong direction. It's not the machine end of the relationship we need to worry about so much as the human end. The danger I see is not so much about AI reaching a certain capacity, but what happens to the human when the machine starts acting like an autonomous thing! We are very easily manipulable creatures precisely because we are capable of projection, personification and empathy. Even if AI never becomes autonomous humans can still be wildly manipulated despite our best efforts.

Back in the 60's a programmer developed as a lark the very first chatbot "counselor", a very simple program he named Eliza. But he quickly became alarmed when in no time his secretary began treating it like a friend instead of recognizing it as clever, but dead, algorithm. He tried to denounce his creation when he realized the danger and have it deleted (Frankenstein!), but by then it was too late. (Try it yourself HERE).

Concerned experts have been trying for years now to identify "Friendly AI", figuring out how to keep the AI from wiping out humans. Or, more accurately, how to keep humans from being wiped out once AI reaches an autonomous level. Bad news: no one yet knows how to do it. And still, researchers furiously try to race each other to the finish. 

This is the future of humanity we are talking about here and I feel it should be the subject of every gathering as the fuse burns. But the issues are subtle and the available tools like smartphones, are so useful and cute that it's hard to be alarmed.

I'm being interviewed on radio about this for a 90-minute talk show with Marisa Diaz-Waian on the subject in a week if you care to listen in and join the conversation:

Thurs. Mar. 31 8:30 AM (MST)

• Listen live here: https://newstalkkgvo.com/listen-live/popup/
• Call-in number: 406-721-1290
• Radio website: https://newstalkkgvo.com/
• On-demand interview recordings landing page (usually available within a week after airing): https://newstalkkgvo.com/radio-on-demand/

Meanwhile, I urge you to think clearly about your relationship to technology and how our love of the machine makes us daily less willing to live in our bodies. Don't abandon your body. Be an angel, but please while you still have a choice, choose to be an embodied animal on this beautiful earth too!

Mystery of the Montana Dolmens

It's a breathtaking arrangement of stones to find deep in the woods (a hunter reported this find!) 

At 28 feet tall, Tizer Dolmen is isolated from other stones. It's impossible to see this bizarrity without thinking of slave armies, giants or maybe architecture-loving dinosaurs. 

Of course we refuse to believe that actual giants put this together. We tend to blame science. 

So let's say for a minute you're God. (Don't worry, you'll be returned.) Without those marvelous opposable thumbs, with tools like glaciers, earthquakes, millennia, etc., how would you place that capstone without knocking over the uprights? 

It's too many for me. But as a sculptor I'm filled with awe!

Another, Tower Dolmen has two capstones balanced on each other, all on the peak of a hill.

The "pinned" rock above–a few tons of unbalanced stone–would have to be carefully placed at the same time as the upper one, right? Or do I misunderstand time as well?

So, suppose there were two glaciers, one to deposit and hold steady the uprights and another to perfectly position the lintels in balance.

Given that, the two glaciers would then have to melt away without moving in order to keep the arrangement stable. 

Again, how would God do that without suspending gravity for an afternoon? 

A few yards away is an astonishing dolmen called Evergreen (which, although I can't verify it, is said to be the tallest in the world at 85 feet!) 

The thing that so stuns me about this is that the right upright is made up of three massive stones, two of them log-shaped. 

They're not perfectly round, but it boggles my brain to think how this arrangement was made or that our frequent earthquakes haven't knocked it over like any self-respecting kid with blocks!

OK, I give up. It's gotta be those aesthete dinosaurs!

One of my favorite dolmens features a capstone balanced on only one boulder, though it looks to be jammed up against another vertical one. But it turns out that––are you sitting down?–– it doesn't touch! There's actually a tiny gap of about 1/2 millimeter! So how did that space happen? 

Again if I were the sculptor, leaving that vanishing gap would be impossibly hard without massive precision tools. I'm filled with wonder! I don't for the life of me see how nature did that. I also have a hard time believing high-tech extraterrestrials did this without the next earthquake toppling them. In fact all the possible stories are far-fetched.

I think the true tale is the one that fills the viewer with the most awe. After all, humans are created for awe and when we find it, we fulfill our purpose!

My Story with Archbishop Tutu

I was crestfallen to hear of the death of Archbishop Desmond Tutu of South Africa (SA). He had been one of the architects of the movement against the Nazi-like apartheid government that kept blacks and "colored" people (5 classes of race division) cruelly subjugated. And he was my friend. I ended up doing a number of projects with him.

In 1987 one of my sculptures, "I Shot an Angel by Mistake", was to be awarded to Tutu at a global gathering of the United Methodist Church in Louisville, KY. I was asked to make the presentation to him. It just so happens that my political satire group, The Montana Logging and Ballet Co. (MLBC) was also performing at the same event, so they of course wanted to sing at the presentation. When we did so we made a great connection with Tutu (who was so moved by the sculpture he wanted to take it with him on the plane!) The next day as he passed by us on the way to give his speech he said he wanted to have us sing for him at some event. 

This was during the worst of the apartheid violence, when the white SA government was slaughtering protesters and torturing political prisoners. All of us were doing what we could to support the anti-apartheid movement. So we arranged for Tutu to come to Washington D.C. for a small fundraiser. There we performed a concert and he spoke. I remember the VIPs there––senators and a presidential candidate–– had to wait for Tutu to greet and thank all the help before he greeted anyone else in the room!

The MLBC went on then to invite Tutu to come to Helena, MT to do another fundraiser in 1990. Again we performed and he spoke, in his unforgettable combination of fiery rhetoric and humor, and we raised almost a million dollars in cash and scholarships for black South Africans.

Tutu wrote the liner notes for our first album, Take the Barriers Down, (Listen to the song.) the and I went on to do more sculpture projects with him. After the fall of the apartheid regime and the election of the great leader Nelson Mandela, he invited my manager Bob FitzGerald and I to SA to help raise money for a peace center outside the Cape Town prison where Mandela was a political prisoner for 27 years. There we stayed with Tutu's secretary, got a private tour of the island prison, and I got permission from the new government to use stone the prisoners quarried for sculpture bases!

I ended up creating the bronze "Welcome Home" for that center (installed a year later) and also creating a bronze for Cape Town's bid for the 2004 Olympics. That would have been a great party to celebrate SA's relatively peaceful conversion to democracy, but it was not to be. After the 2004 Olympics were awarded to Athens for a few days my Olympic sculptures ("Olympic Africa") were embroiled in a front-page controversy as the Cape Town businesses that funded the bid scrambled to recoup some of the money they'd spent and so tried to seize my bronzes. I told the press that I'd given the sculptures to Tutu's Truth and Reconciliation Commission (I hadn't until that moment!) and they were saved.

Despite the success in SA the new leaders were embroiled in the sad corruption that has plagued the nation since, which Tutu's secretary has struggled to counter as Tutu aged and suffered health issues. But she did tell me that Tutu, when he went to his private chapel during the worst years of apartheid to do his daily devotions, lit a candle before my bronze, The Rumble of Release. For me this is the greatest compliment I've ever received! Tutu, a tiny man, will always be a monument.

Who's Exploiting Whom?

As a figurative sculptor I've spent much of my life turning over the questions of exploitation in viewing the body. As a male artist, when I depict a female body, how much of my response is authentic and how much a matter of our cultural socialization we refer to as the "male gaze"? What am I to do if the model that shows up is pretty close to the idea body type that our patriarchal culture prefers? If I depict what I see there are going to be those who feel the model is objectified, whereas if the model is overweight or old or misshapen, not so much. What does a non-exploitive depiction look like? Often the answers seem to reveal more about the speaker than resolving the situation. So here's my take:

Yes, the patriarchy objectifies women (as well as most of nature!) That's horrid and we should work against it. But Nature is also what created our bodies and it's quite clear that for a human, another human body is the most beautiful thing there is! All the more so with young, healthy women. I suspect that's because each of us was born of a body that looks like that; so that body becomes unconsciously the image of The Divine (She who created and sustains us.) I can certainly see how anyone who's been objectified rails against another's suffering the same. But this does not negate my own experience. I see in the woman both a sexual animal and an "object" of beauty. Does that mean I'm objectifying her? I'm aware how women artists can depict the female body sexually (VERY common in women artists!) without accusations of objectification. That doesn't so much mean they're free from that fault, but that that's OK in the patriarchy. 

We cannot see beauty without delighting in our experience of it. The same happens to me with sexual arousal. Yet I too bristle at images of sexy women that hints at nothing beyond. I delight in my experience. If you enjoy a good meal are you objectifying your food? A sunset? These are the tough questions.

In the end there's no winning this argument, there's only learning. When I hear the conversation come up it becomes clear (since everyone has a dog in this fight) that the best answers are always going to be subjective. So please do respond to an image, but then listen to yourself... What do you learn?

Our Toxic Entitlement Society

Forgive me, for I have sinned. 

I've grown up cherishing the ideals of the American Dream of hard work and self-reliance. I thought if I worked hard and relied largely on myself I was due a comfortable living. Was there some part of the dream I forgot about that included others? After all I'm generous and give 10% of my income to those slackers that don't work as hard as I do. If the world fills with slackers is that my fault?  

Is it my responsibility that everyone wants the expensive apartments in the city? I don't hate people that are different from me, but why don't they then form their own gated communities? I don't mind if they want to live nearby as long as they don't inconvenience me. I'm no bigot. I pay for police to protect us all from fear. Others needn't worry as long as they follow the law and don't make us fearful. Is it so hard not to scare people?

I have good taste, always recycle and appreciate artesian water. By buying water from a pristine part of the country I'm supporting jobs for those locals. I'm sure their own drinking water is fine, and if not they have stores closeby. In fact I create jobs by employing thousands who simply don't have my skills. It's my taxes that pay for their schools and health care! Well, yes, I avoid taxes mostly, but that's simply playing wisely by the rules. And yes, my lobbyists are successful, but I only support those policies that are popular. Obviously, because they always pass.

So of course I'm furious with those homeless that crowd my entrance! Where is the compassion of their families? Why don't they take care of their own like I do? Sure my nephew is one, but there are institutions for his kind. I love him but if he wants to live on the street, hey that's the true freedom of living in the US!

Frankly we'd all be happier if people would stop messing up the parks I pay so much to keep clean and private, what with their fires and noise and all those stinking corpses. Yes, forgive my optimism.

Oh, and please forgive them also, bless their little hearts. For they know not what they do!

Lying Flat for Humanity

"I see a system that, even if it bounces back to “normal,” I have no interest in
rejoining, a system that is beginning to come undone." 

So says a NYT reporter who is dropping out of the capitalist work world to honor their own humanity, like much of the youth of the far east. Capitalism has produced a world that turns humans into machines to grind money into wealth (for a worker's "superiors"). We were not made for this. I see a high salary as correlating almost exactly to the dehumanization of work. So indoctrinated are we that we almost can't conceive of a work life that fills us with joy. Every so often we hear in an interview "I can't believe I get paid to do this!" What a shame that such a statement is remarkable. That should describe all of our lives.

How many millions of us trudge along like slaves, compelled to work at dead-end jobs that drain our energy and add nothing to our well-being? And all this for a paycheck so unlivable that in not a single US county can a minimum wage worker afford a two-bedroom rental! The only reason for a minimum wage law at all is apparently to keep capitalists from imposing outright slavery.

We don't have to live like this, and young people all over the world are catching on! Is it any wonder businesses can't find workers in this climate? More young people are seeing how awful our civilization is to humans and other living things and now they are refusing to participate.

I learned the phrase "downwardly mobile" from a rich friend who was trying to downsize––against his class tradition–– to a reasonably sized apartment. Some 20 years ago I was inspired to do the same. When I could not succeed in the capitalist world without compromising my principles I decided to intentionally make less money every year. It has worked. For the past 15 years I've lived well below the poverty line and never been happier! I consume very little, ride my bike everywhere, and do my own work for joy rather than money. I even try to think of ways of avoiding making money because it is not needed. I largely make gifts of my work. This is the erotic life.

"For as we begin to recognize our deepest feelings, we begin to give up, of necessity, being satisfied with suffering and self-negation, and with the numbness which so often seems like their only alternative in our society."

Audre Lorde spoke in 1978 about refusing to work in a system that is inherently anti-human. Is it any wonder businesses can't find workers who refuse to work under inhuman conditions?