Art & Writing - Prelude to AI Art

I've always had a thing for art, but it wasn't until I retired that I decided to take the plunge into painting. Back in the day, I dabbled in a few painting and drawing classes at community colleges, but it was always a short-term fling. During my working years, I was all about computer graphics because, let's face it, art wasn't paying the bills. But now that I'm living in the Honolulu Arts District, surrounded by vibrant murals and a seriously artsy vibe, I've finally found my true calling in painting. The community's spiritual, artistic energy is contagious, and it's got me feeling inspired and ready to contribute my creative flair. Who knew retirement could be this much fun?

What do I mean by this? Here’s an example, remember the Star Trek series on television back in the 60s? In the series, they used communicators to contact each other. It was a handheld device they flipped open to talking into. That example inspired young engineers to create the smartphone we use today. The writers back then had no idea what the future would look like. The writers are the creative artists, and the handheld communicator they conjured up is metaphorically the raw expression. That natural expression today is the smartphone. 

I want to create art to inspire imagination. Like Albert Einstein once said, "Logic will take from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere." 

Have you ever wondered how many stories you can paint into a picture? As an Art Communicator, the possibilities are endless! Are you up for capturing a mythological tale or documenting a historical event? Or you want to make a bold statement with your art. Whatever story you want to tell, let's bring it to life on the canvas!

Fascinated with the Hawaiian culture and living on the Aina, I like to "talk story" about this lifestyle in my art. Living in this environment makes it easy to capture subject matter to paint about. Thinking about a story theme can make it easy to initiate a painting when you experience painter's block (taken after the phenomena of writer's block).  

Tell a story with art and give the viewer an imaginary environment to explore. 

Albert Einstein once said, "Imagination is intelligence having fun." In addition, I say, "Creativity is the ART of life." 

Imagination can manifest into limitless possibilities. It is the birthplace of innovation, the realm where dreams take shape and reality bends to the whims of creativity. In every stroke of a paintbrush, every line of a poem, and every note of a song lies the potential to transport us to unseen worlds and evoke untapped emotions. So, as an artist, create something that challenges and inspires. Your work should not merely be observed but experienced, inviting viewers to delve into their own critical imagination. Let them decipher your art in their own way, finding personal meaning and connection. This dialogue between the creator and the audience fosters a shared journey of discovery that celebrates the diversity of human thought and perception. By engaging the mind and the soul, art becomes more than a visual or auditory experience; it becomes a catalyst for growth, understanding, and transformation. Embrace the power of your imagination and share it boldly, for in doing so, you ignite the spark of possibility in others.

Throughout elementary school, I had a habit of doodling on various surfaces, which often got me into trouble. However, this habit inadvertently improved my hand-eye coordination and sparked my interest in realistic drawing. After high school, I pursued a career in the US Navy as a jet mechanic, but I quickly realized it wasn't the right fit. Despite excelling on advancement tests and reaching the rank of E5 within three years, I knew I needed to find a different career path.

I came across a jet engine assembly book in the Navy filled with illustrated parts breakdowns. I became fascinated by the drawings, knowing I could draw them. I enrolled in drafting classes at the community college and eventually secured a job as a drafter in Silicon Valley in the early 1980s. In my experience, integrating artistic elements into mechanical engineering drawings was impractical. Consequently, I had to shift my focus to engineering graphics communications and set aside my artistic ambitions to keep my job. 

. "So with every manufactured thing I see, I imagine drawings morphically emerging from them." I was conditioned to look at design as an engineering communication structure. There was nothing aesthetically artistic about it. 

Haley Joel Osment from the movie "The Sixth Sense" (1999) when he mentions "I see dead people."

I've been proficient in computer literacy for over four decades. It never occurred to me that my extensive experience with programs like Photoshop, Illustrator, and various engineering CAD software could be used for creating personal artwork. My familiarity with these programs allowed me to experiment and explore new design styles and techniques beyond my regular work.

Exploring digital art after years of professional work is like a musician retiring from performing and discovering a newfound passion for composing their own music. Both scenarios represent a beautiful transition from professional expertise to personal creativity and self-expression.

The potential for where this passion could lead me knows no bounds, and I'm thrilled to discover just how far I can go.

 Go to my Pinterest page to view samples of my work.   

In the layer column example, each individual piece of artwork is assigned its own layer. This approach enables you to adjust the position of each piece of artwork relative to others, move them forward or backward, and customize them to achieve the exact results you want.

As I gazed out at the vast open fields of Silicon Valley's Golden Triangle, I couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia. The wild mustard plants that once flourished in these fields grew rampant, swaying in the gentle breeze like a joyful dance. It was here, amidst this breathtaking scenery, that I spent my childhood days running and playing with my friends. But now, the landscape has transformed beyond recognition, with towering tech companies and luxurious hotels replacing the once-peaceful fields. The area, nestled between highways 101, 880, and Interstate 237, has become a bustling hub of commercial activity, a far cry from the idyllic playground of my childhood.

Ah, the early 60s - a time when the world was different and full of life. It was a time when these plants grew everywhere before the towering tech companies took over. I still remember seeing Italian people picking these plants, and it reminded me of a similar plant that grew wildly back in my home countryside. The Italians were the first to teach us the intricate techniques of harvesting these delectable mustard greens, with their vibrant green leaves and crisp texture. Over time, the Asians quickly caught on and learned to expertly pluck and prepare these greens, unlocking their full potential and creating dishes that are a true delight for the senses.

As you venture through Silicon Valley, keep an eye out for the mustard plants scattered throughout the area. These hardy plants can flourish in unexpected places, like the pavement crevices or the unattended spaces between buildings. What's truly remarkable is that these mustard plants are native to this region and have been thriving here for many years, even before the tech industry arrived and transformed the landscape.

At our home in Silicon Valley, my dad used to grow vegetables in the backyard. I believe he must have loved to grow vegetables and fruit trees from working as a farmhand in Hawaii and California. He would grow bitter melon, string beans, eggplants, tomatoes, tabungaw and upo squash, and other varieties every year. Back then, they didn’t have Asian supermarkets. Many vegetables for Filipino dishes were unavailable, so they grew their own and traded with other friends and relatives.
 

The Tomato Monster
I have fond memories of these tomato hornworms. They were the baddest creatures in the backyard garden; no one messed with them. I would collect them and save them in a jar for caterpillar gladiator fights. I would put a black hairy caterpillar in the pot, and the hornworm would always win. These tomato monsters can grow to a massive four inches long before they turn into a dull giant brown moth. 

There she goes again, Noelani talking to herself; she was a homeless person wandering the streets of the Honolulu Arts District, walking and talking out loud. She’s a regular in Chinatown, never bothering anybody and keeping to herself. Sometimes folks would buy her something to eat like a manapua, and she’s always graceful and thankful.

Then there are these teenage skateboarder kids in the neighborhood who are always causing trouble and bullying people. Real, local neighborhood punks. Mischievous kids out for a good time hanging around the skateboard park.

Noelani was making her rounds around Chinatown, down River Street, and across to the park, talking out loud like there were people next to her. She rattled on without a care, not paying attention to where she was going. Then she stumbled upon the skateboard park where the skateboarders hang out.

The next day the boys scanned the streets of Chinatown looking for Noelani. Randall wanted his fishing hook bone necklace back. Randall told the other boys, “When I see her, I gonna break her face.” The other boys laughed; “you mean break-face.” “You still a mainlander.” 

The boys asked around town, and some folks say she stays in the park at Smith and Beretania streets. So, the boys skate-boarded to Smith-Beretania Park. They waited until it got dark—still no sign of the talking lady. 

He yells at her, saying he will rip that off her neck. She started talking faster to herself, looking from side to side. Her eyes begin to flutter upwards as she gets into a hula trance, moving with sensual enchantment. She starts chanting in Hawaiian as the mist thickens beside her and surrounds the kids. She fills the park with a thick fog you can’t see from the streets. She magically transforms into an ancient hula skirt and Leis as she dances and chants for her ancestors to appear.

It turns out Noelani is never talking to herself; she’s talking to her ancestors, who walk beside her. We can’t see them until she calls for their help. She wanders these streets because these are the streets that covered up the land that her ancestors lived on. She is the last descendant of her clan. She is stuck between worlds,  searching for the homes of her ancestors that all the buildings in Chinatown have long since covered up. 

Best friends Xiang from China and Kenji from Japan were plantation workers who opened a little food bar in town after their work contracts with the plantations were over. Xiang brought his love of cooking from Guangzhou, Northern China, where his grandmother passed down her special wonton recipe to the family. He got this recipe from Guangzhou and then went to Hong Kong, where the style and ingredients were popular. Eventually, Xiang left Hong Kong to work in the plantations of Hawaii. 

Xiang had saved up some money for his travels to California. Still, he changed his plans and decided to open a food bar restaurant in Chinatown instead. With the help of Kai and Jones, a couple of local construction workers who provided him with leftover wood scraps and free labor in exchange for food, along with some financial contribution from Kenji, they were able to open a small food bar in front of one of the hotels being built by Kai and Jones.

A crowd gathered patiently on the other side of the counter, waiting for Xiang and Kenji to open the food bar. All of them were former plantation workers familiar with Xiang's cooking from his time back at the plantation.

As they both came to open up, one guy yelled out in a pidgin accent, “Eh! Why you guys open up late morning all time?” 

The first customer told Kenji, “I want dat, dat, and dat.” Kenji obliged and moved on to the next customer; he pointed to what he wanted and asked for a medium-boiled egg. Kenji said it’s going to cost a little extra. The customer said, “Dats okay.” Then Kenji came to the next customer, a new plantation worker who didn’t speak English well. “Okay, my friend, what you like?” Kenji asked. With a lost look on his face, he shook his head. Then Kenji pointed to the bowl with noodles in the broth and pointed to the seafood and veggies in the separate bowls back and forth. Then the new guy said, “De Quan,’” pointing to the bowls. Kenji replied, “Dis one, dat one, which one?”  The man looked slightly embarrassed at his lack of English, pointed to the bowls again, and said, “Deeee Quan.” Knowing he struggled to speak English, Kenji smiled because he knew how it was when he first came to the island. 

It turns out that the newcomer is from the northern part of the Philippines, from a province called Ilocos Norte. The phrase “Dee Quan, literally means referring to an inanimate object, like that thing, that object, that fish, those veggies, etc. So in the event that the plantation workers congregated for work, they did the best they could to communicate with each other forming a unique pidgin language amongst themselves. Each culture contributes in its own way. 

I was here when the people arrived to make a home of this place, and only a few grass huts were scattered around this island. I’ve seen generations of their families thrive and grow. I watched them flourish and develop their unique agricultural and aquacultural systems and fishing engineering technology. 

The balance of nature is dependent on the natural selection of evolution, and like any living organism, the will to expand and multiply comes with growing pains. Soon families become tribes, tribes become clans, and friction between neighboring clans eventually turns into war. Maybe it’s nature’s way of keeping the balance within a species. For whatever reason, the situation is a natural occurrence of evolution. 

What is this? A new strange traveler with fair skin has entered from the sea. They come in a very large canoe. They arrive at a time when there is conflict amongst the natives of the islands, and the people are divided. A strange people are bearing gifts never seen from the people of the land. Who are these strangers? Are they friends or foes? What do they want? I want to tell them to be careful, but all I can do is observe.

They have powerful weapons, and their canoe harnesses the power of the wind. They must have powerful gods on their side. They seem friendly, offering new knowledge to improve our way of life. New knowledge is the true treasure.

Suddenly, many of the natives have drawn ill—sickness from a disease they have never encountered before. This once virgin land has given way to contamination spread by the newcomers. As more of the haoles come, more of my Kanaka Maoli die. I fear my end is near as well.

Less than half of my Kanaka Maoli survive, and the haoles keep on coming. More from different lands, of different nationalities and languages. Soon, they are too powerful to confront with force as my native people dwindled and the remaining became dependent on the haole way of life. The royal native monarchy succumbed by force, and their lands were taken away from them. The Kanaka Maoli are now subject to foreign rule. They have now felt the sting of Imperialism. 

Not all is lost; the newcomers from other lands have learned to love the natives’ way of life. They come not to destroy the culture, but to contribute to it. That is the true spirit of Aloha. They love the native dance and the sport of surfing. They adopt the wisdom of Aloha into their hearts to be a part of the Kama’aina and uphold the ways of the indigenous people and the love of the Aina. A beautiful culture built on the foundation of love. 

I’m so lucky to see each culture's contributions to the development of these islands. A mixed plate of love from those who want to call this paradise their home. It is fun for me to witness the blend of cultures, especially in the food. Each newcomer brings their cuisine style to contribute to the Hawaiian mix-plate palate. That’s aloha in action, but alas, my time has come.