Dear Artist, Is the Algorithm Your Pimp?
Over the course of the last decade I have witnessed the ethereal spark behind the eyes of humanity —the spark we affectionately refer to as “the soul”— all but disappear. This is a generalisation of sorts, I have caught glimpses here and there -exceptions. I consider myself lucky in that regard. The light, it dwindles. I last wrote you on August, 30th of last year. Spurred into action by a strange and meaningful dream. This time I am entirely outward facing. Reporting back to you from my duties as a “watcher”. It is given very little weight. Like trying to stir a pot of already set concrete. Diagnosing a curable illness once rigor mortis has already set in. That is where we are now. Well into the final stages of this. Contorted, ready for the final act. I am no conspiracy theorist, but I can tell you what has happened. When COVID happened the vast majority of us clutched social media like a lifeline. It changed, not only how we spent our days, but who we were. It changed how w...