As I stood in the pool of hungry shoppers at Costco, all waiting for their orders that were placed seconds ago at self check out machines, I was struck with a deep feeling of disconnect and emptiness. We order on a computer, we wait for our number to be called, we collect our food with a robotic 'thank you' and we're off. Just another number.

The goal of this structure is obvious and simple: serve as many clients as possible in the shortest amount of time. Efficiency at its finest and corporations at their happiest.

But something about this experience was extremely unsettling, leaving me with a hollow feeling. We've known for ages now that if there's anything these companies will cut out of their costs, it's labour. However, there is still a cost to the stripping of human interaction and a trade off for more efficiency.

In the art world in particular, there have been infinite debates about the use of AI and the impact of its usage (and existence) on the one trait that is unique to humans: creative expression in the form of art. We transmute our deepest pain and joy into visual, audible and tangible experiences which connects us to others in a way that nothing else can. When I hear people argue that AI will allow us to work faster and more efficiently, my question is always: why?

Why should I need to be more efficient? To be more productive.
Why should I be more productive? To make more money.
Why do I want more money? To be viewed as more valuable and worthy to others.

These days, productivity seems like the sole purpose and goal of being an artist and business owner. The process is not part of the 'slow made' motto anymore and digital tools are being used in favour of a pen and paper.

But what exactly does 'slow made' mean?

To me, it's the moment the idea hits you as you lay peacefully in a grassy field, floating gently and unsuspectingly into your mind. It's the sketches that never make it to the final draft but are each a building block for the end product. It's the late nights making renditions that don't quite turn out and the early mornings trying again with a rested mind. It's the quiet in between the hustle and the lack of inspiration. And it's even in the speed at which I move as I make each piece.

Slow made means no rush and my stubborn desire to keep a steady and connected pace during every step of the creative process. And above all, the preservation of human connection through art.

I could have written this blog post with AI and treated it as another item on my to-do list to capture clients, but I would then lose the opportunity to reflect and to understand my true business values. I would miss out on a chance to connect with a reader and lover of my art. This is not a trade off that I consider valuable.

Maybe I'm just entirely all too emotional! Or maybe we really have wandered a little too far from our natural pace for the sake of productivity.

Take things slow.
Breathe slow.
Walk slow.
Look up and around you.

We're meant to notice each other.

- H