PICTURE PERFECT
Tony Hawk is the greatest skateboarder of all time, that’s my opinion, but it may as well be fact. 9/10 people would agree that he is the greatest. The 1/10 that disagree are probably skaters who dislike his style or just plain dislike the man. Either way, Tony Hawk is not always universally accepted as king of the skateboarders. Tony Hawk prioritized tricks in his career, landing the current one and moving on to the next one. It’s probably why he was the first skater to land a 900, because the mechanics of the game, along with the motivation to keep innovating, is what motivated him the most. Compared to a skater like Christian Hosoi, who didn’t care about any of that and skated purely for the aesthetics and beauty in the movement, is an example of someone who values form over function. The movement may not be as efficient and crisp as when Tony Hawk does it, but it will look unique in a way that makes the silhouette of his form instantly recognizable to the skate community. Like Air Jordan, you don’t have to dunk a basketball that way, but why wouldn’t you?
I feel the same way about Eminem. Not everyone places him at the top of their list, but regardless of how people feel, his talent cannot be ignored. As a longtime fan, I’m there for it all, I love the old stuff, I listen to the new stuff, it’s all great to me. But to someone who didn’t grow up listening to Slim Shady, while they may recognize the ability, they often have similar complaints about his style. Robotic, stiff, no rhythm. Technically flawless, but missing something that is very difficult to put into words. Marshall Mathers writes about very human experiences, from a perspective most of his listeners (including myself) have never been near, so to frame him as being anything but the image of authenticity feels strange to write. Especially as someone who enjoys his ‘lyrical miracles’.
Where does this leave us? With our flawed perspectives and sordid pasts? We are anything but perfect, but that’s something we already know; it’s why we strive for greatness. We want what we can’t have, that elusive, rare air that so few of us drink in for a few seconds in our lives before it’s tainted forever. Even then, each of us has our own individual perception of what it is that constitutes perfection. We could be staring perfection in its face and not know it because perfection wears a different face in everyone’s mind.
The thing that makes our lives worth living is the dents and the bumps. We have the ability to stream vast libraries of music at high quality, but we find such joy in going to a record store and finding some lost treasure in wax form. The imperfections that present themselves in the form of crackles and pops when you drop a needle on that record and play it for the first time are way more satisfying than clicking on any .mp3 file in the world! It’s the same reason we are being drawn back to Polaroids and analogue cameras, reclaimed wood, exposed brick, all of these things that are evidence of humanity and what we have created in our time here. Tangible things that we can hold in our hands and feel the effects of, unlike the internet, unlike AI.
AI creates things that are ‘perfect’, as in without defects. This is not to suggest that the renderings of artificial intelligence are superior to those of man, just the opposite. An image rendered by an AI may look the same as one created by a photographer, or even just some chick with an iPhone, but there will be that indescribable quality that is found in works of art that is missing. That thing that people line up for, it can be found in classic novels and Norman Rockwell paintings; soul, life.
It has been said that God doesn’t paint in straight lines; maybe that’s why Mankind came up with Cubism. Perhaps the forces that exist beyond our capabilities were not meant to create on our behalf; how could the Gods understand what it is to be mortal? An undying, unfeeling machine powered by Zeus & Poseidon. How could it know what it is to have dirt under your nails and sweat on your brow? How could it know what it is to face Death, to face life?
No picture is ever perfect.
