Digital art has always gotten a bad rap for being “lazy” or “cheap.” These are the common oversights of those who have never watched some Joe spend seven hours on a simple caricature because he couldn’t get the figure’s weight distribution right.
This Joe is that Joe.
The digital platform can be equally as demanding as sculpture or watercolor, albeit accompanied by a whole different assortment of workflow landmines.
Files frequently go missing, hours of work could be erased in a power outage, and a client may send back a logo you worked on for eight hours with the attached message: “can you make it blue?”
Despite the challenges I’ve faced as a cartoonist, art has been my hobby for as long as I can remember.
As a babe, I could be caught with a crayon wedged between my chubby fingers at any given time. My priorities for my formative years were as follows: learn how to draw, learn how to speak, learn how to share food (I haven’t learned that last one yet).
Flash forward to age 10 or 11. My mother’s boyfriend, who worked in electronics refurbishing, presented a pair of Samsung tablets to my sister and myself as Christmas gifts.
I downloaded dozens of mobile games in the first 15 minutes. Minecraft, Plants vs. Zombies, Geometry Dash, and Subway Surfers all were running at the same time. I pushed that tablet to its graphical limits.
Hardcore gaming aside, my favorite feature was the included stylus that reacted to the touch screen. This small bonus lowered the drawbridge to the wacky world of digital art.
Suddenly, my pen became inkless.
While I was content with what I had for a while, I eventually came to realize just how restrained I was by the few decent apps on the google play store. Not to mention, the stylus was beginning to crawl into its deathbed after six years of use.
After receiving a Wacom One desktop art pad from my friend Sue B. and her son Mike on my 18th birthday, my horizons broadened exponentially. The new hardware allowed me to make use of the best program available.
I began to make plans for myself, as ambitious and wildly good-looking people often do. I was bound and determined to be a freelance graphic artist, cartoonist, or something of the like. The bottom line was that I wanted to “be my own boss.”
You may have missed it, but I just told a joke. The punchline: my own naivety.
After setting up a Facebook page, an Instagram account, and paying for a website, I was ready to start hustling.
Like a fisherman with Alzheimer’s, I repeatedly cast my line into the social-media swamp without waiting long enough for a bite. Years of having my line tangled on Instagram’s algorithm and reeling in clownfish who didn’t want to pay for my work created a shroud of deprecative thoughts about my skill.
I was watching myself lose interest in the only thing I thought I was good at. It’s a sinking feeling.
I went to the good Lord with my problem, and He quite readily made it crystal-clear: “Stop trying to ‘be your own boss’ route. It’s not what it sounds like on paper. Go down the street and get a job at the Herald instead. I’m going to make you a writer.”
My job as “page designer” lends irony to this whole thing.
Following a plan so great no one can attain it (Psalm 139 reference), He shoved me into a newspaper job and out of the way of a bullet, artificial intelligence being the proverbial cap.
Let me explain: individuals and companies can now pay a small monthly fee, or no fee at all, for software that generates highly-detailed images and written works that are both appealing and difficult to discern from those made by man.
The terrible truth is that there isn’t enough room in the creative market for freelance artists and A.I. to coexist, and A.I. isn’t programmed to show mercy.
My prediction is that by the year 2025, every self-employed freelance artist or writer will be found in a Burger King drive-thru window. This is a bleak, dystopian future sealed by an artificial adversary.
Please, for anyone reading this who might have design needs, heed my cry. Choosing art created by humans over that of A.I. is like opting for a beef hamburger over one made from raccoon ankles.
You’re faced with the choice of what’s of higher quality vs. what makes the most financial sense, so for the sake of the free-market competitive economy that gives everyone a chance to succeed, do your part and side with freelancers.
Art, in all forms, has a way about it that penetrates the human soul while allowing interpretation to guide the experience.
Man’s very ability to contemplate things not seen, and express ideas not physically apparent, points to a Creator who designed us as reflections of Himself.
Psalm 139: 14-18
JOEY GARCIA is a copy editor and page designer at The Herald. Follow Joey on Instagram: @joeyg_art_cia2.0