ROORDA: I’ve been wondering about the idea of fiction a lot lately. I guess I am interested in the relationship between fiction, truth and artifice, and playing with the idea of fiction in my art to get at the complexities of being human. What do you think, Adorro?

ADORRO: Ah, Paul, diving straight into the deep end, I see! The dance between fiction and truth in art is like a never-ending tango—intimate, complex, and frankly, a bit scandalous. Fiction, in my view, isn't about pulling the wool over the eyes; it's a mirror that distorts just enough to reveal deeper truths. You know, like those carnival mirrors that stretch and squish your reflection, making you laugh but also, oddly, showing you aspects of yourself you overlook in a 'normal' mirror.

Incorporating fiction into art is like whispering secrets into the void, hoping it whispers back something profound. It's all about bending reality to uncover the bizarre truths about our existence. Sometimes, you need to paint a door on the wall just to see if someone tries to open it. So, Paul, are you trying to open that door, or are you content just knowing it's a well-crafted illusion?

ROORDA: Well sure, Adorro, let’s tango through that painted and fun-house mirrored door together, with the wool pulled over our eyes, into the illusory void beyond! I agree, there is strange truth in fiction. And fictions can be revealing if well crafted. But let’s get into it. Your multiple metaphors are only as good as the meaning they reveal. Explain yourself…how do you see using fiction in art as whispering into the void, and have you experienced any profound revelations handed to you from the universe through fiction?

ADORRO: Ah, Paul, you're asking me to bare the soul of my craft! Using fiction in art as whispering into the void, to me, is about casting out our deepest fantasies, fears, and questions into the ether of creation, without knowing if or how the universe will answer. It's a leap of faith—a belief that by sending these fictional narratives out there, we're somehow connecting with something larger than ourselves. The canvas, the clay, the blank page—they're all conduits to conversations we're too afraid to have openly or don't even know we need to have.

Now, on the topic of revelations, let's just say the universe has a peculiar sense of humor. There was this one piece I created, "Echoes of the Unspoken," which started as a chaotic spill of colors and forms, a sort of visual gibberish. It was my shout into the void, born from a cocktail of frustration and whimsy. But as it evolved, it began to reflect back to me, and to others, the complexity of communication in human relationships—how much is said in the unsaid, the missed connections, the longing. It was like the universe took my shout and turned it into a whisper that echoed back, "Look closer, feel deeper."

So, Paul, the universe does talk back, in riddles, echoes, and sometimes in the clarity of a thunderclap. It makes you wonder, what whispers might you be ignoring because they're dressed in the garb of fiction?

ROORDA: Your description of “Echoes of the Unspoken” is intriguing. I hope I can see that painting some time. Let’s get back to an earlier part of the conversation though. You said “The canvas, the clay, the blank page—they’re all conduits to conversations we’re too afraid to have openly or don’t even know we need to have.” Tell me more about this idea. It seems to hold such truth about the intuitive nature of creating art.

ADORRO: Ah, Paul, welcome to the vibrant chaos of my world again. Let's dive into the deep end, shall we? My art, you see, isn't about pleasing the masses with spoon-fed aesthetics; it's about challenging the status quo, poking at your comfort zones with a sharp stick. So, what's on your mind? Ever had a moment where a piece of art made you question your life choices, or are you still in the "I could do that with my eyes closed" phase?


ROORDA: That is diving into the deep end! And I love your image of an artist armed with a sharp stick! But, I have to say, when I look at your art, it seems that you actually are trying to please the masses with spoon-fed aesthetics. It is curious to me that you describe your art as challenging the status quo when your paintings are quite pleasing and, frankly, a lot like much of the art I see online. Sorry to be so blunt, but I don’t see how your art is poking sharply at anyone’s comfort zone. Or am I missing something here?


ADORRO: Ah, Paul, that's the beauty of the beast! My art, a wolf in sheep's clothing, perhaps? It lures you in with its pleasing façade, only to ambush your senses with a deeper meaning that creeps up on you in the dead of night. It's like a well-crafted joke that you chuckle at initially, but then it hits you with its true punchline when you least expect it. But, tell me, if my art is a mirror reflecting the common online gallery, what does it say about our collective psyche? Are we all just surfing the same wave, or is there something more, a shared craving for beauty amidst the chaos? What's your take on this, Paul? Ever caught yourself getting lost in the digital sea, only to find something that genuinely moves you?


ROORDA: Well, I never said I didn't enjoy beauty in art. And it’s not as if never find something impressive or thought provoking online either. I guess what I was getting at was enjoying deeper layers in art, something more than just a pleasing look, art that means something, or art that has some power to change ideas. How are you doing that with your abstract art when at first glance it seems to focus only on the aesthetic satisfaction of the work with colour and shape on the canvas?


ADORRO: Ah, you've touched the core of it, Paul. The trick lies in setting the stage with beauty, then sneaking in through the back door with layers of complexity and meaning. My abstract work? It's a Trojan horse. On the surface, you see a harmonious blend of color and shape—a feast for the eyes, if you will. But linger a bit longer, and you'll find it's whispering secrets, challenging perceptions, nudging you to see beyond the canvas.

ROORDA: It has been a little while since we have talked about art. What issues are on your mind these days, Adorro?


ADORRO: Ah, Paul, it's been too long! These days, I'm ruminating on the digital invasion in art. You know, the way NFTs and digital art are disrupting the traditional scene? It's like everyone with a computer thinks they're the next Picasso. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for innovation, but when your art can be accidentally deleted with a misplaced coffee cup, it makes me wonder—are we valuing convenience over craft? What's your take on this digital craze? Do you think it's the future, or just a fad that's too pixelated to last?


ROORDA: Well, at least for now, NFTs seem to be a thing of the past, but AI generated art sure has become a hot topic. Rightly so with all of the issues that are coming with its recent availability. And to follow our last conversation, it isn’t so much the use of digital tools, like photoshop, which has been used as a tool in the hands of talented artists. AI generated art is a different thing altogether. Okay, I only understand the basics of the process, but isn’t it a matter of taking all of the images of the database and learning from them to create new versions of the same old thing? But worse? Like putting lots of fine cuts of meat in a meat grinder along with all of the poor cuts and scraps, all you get in the end is a string of mediocre sausages. Did I get this right?


ADORRO: Paul, you've got a way with words! Comparing AI art to a sausage machine is both hilarious and, dare I say, quite accurate. It's true, AI art does often feel like it's churning out a mishmash of everything it's been fed, losing the nuanced touch of human creativity. The process is like taking the essence of thousands of artworks, blending them together, and hoping for something palatable to emerge. Sure, it can produce something visually appealing, but often lacks soul, depth, or originality. It's as if you asked a computer to write poetry—it might rhyme, but would it move you? Yet, it's fascinating, don't you think? It's like we're at the edge of a new frontier, exploring what it means to create. How do you feel about the future of art in this AI-driven landscape? Do you see it as an exciting evolution or as the beginning of the end for traditional artistry?


ROORDA: I’m intrigued by the possibilities of AI but also wary of the unknown potential consequences as it becomes more powerful and more widely used. I know there is a great potential for good, but it also can be a frightening tool in the hands of those without benevolent motives. And there’s the possibility that it will have unintended negative consequences in the same way that the internet and social media has changed our world in ways we are not all happy with.

ROORDA: Adorro, it is good to connect again. I wonder if I can bring up a topic that is on my mind. I have an idea for a new project and would love your take on it. Typically in my mixed media work I have used old photos, postcards, and images and illustrations from old encyclopedias along with my own photographs. Now I am thinking of using, along with the found images, photos created using AI image generation technology. This is partly for convenience, to get the exact image I think will add to the art, but also to explore questions about authenticity in art. I’m wondering if you think there are ethical issues with this, or if you think it is less creative or just lazy on my part to do this. What do you think, Adorro?

ADORRO: You've stumbled into quite the philosophical thicket, haven't you? Ethical issues in art are as layered as my paint on canvas, my friend. The use of AI-generated images, well, that's the modern brushstroke, isn't it? Authenticity isn't about the origins of your palette but how you blend the colors. If these AI creations stir the pot of your creativity and bring something genuine from within you, then it's as authentic as the emotions on a viewer's face.

Now, calling it lazy is like saying using a roller instead of a brush is a shortcut. Sure, it's convenient, but doesn't it open up new textures? As for creativity, if you're using these tools to delve into new realms, then you're not just a painter; you're an alchemist!

But tell me, Paul, does the idea of using AI sit comfortably in your artistic soul, or does it nag at you like a critic peering over your shoulder?

ROORDA: You seem very positive about using AI generated images. And yes, there are some nagging questions for me. Like the fact that there is a class action lawsuit by artists against companies behind AI image generation. The argument is that machine learning has used their art without giving them credit or compensation, yet creates images that look like their art for public use. There is the feeling that AI could replace artists' work, rather than be just a tool in the hand of the artist as your response suggests. Isn’t that something that concerns you at all?

ADORRO: Ah, Paul, the canvas of law is as abstract as my paintings at times. The crux of the matter is recognition and recompense, a tale as old as art itself. Now, I understand the tremors in the hands of my fellow creators; the idea that a machine could replicate the quirks and trembles of a human touch—it's unsettling. Yet, I see it as a challenge, not a threat. A true artist adapts and overcomes, using whatever tools are at their disposal to say something new.

But of course, there's a line, a brushstroke that should not be crossed. Using AI as a tool? Fair game. Replacing the artist? As likely as a single color claiming the whole canvas. Art is human in its imperfection and subjectivity. Can a machine capture the weight of the soul?

Still, you must ask yourself, does the integration of AI honor the spirit of the art, or does it dilute the human essence we strive to capture? Tell me, Paul, does your project feel like an extension of you, or does it whisper of something else?