theidiotsgarden

[theidiotsgarden]

There’s a protest going on against AI art over on artstation, so I feel like now is the time for me to make a statement on this issue! 

I wholeheartedly support the ongoing protest against AI art. Why? Because my artwork is included in the datasets used to train these image generators without my consent. I get zero compensation for the use of my art, even though these image generators cost money to use, and are a commercial product. 

Musicians are not being treated the same way. Stability has a music generator that only uses royalty free music in their dataset. Their words: “Because diffusion models are prone to memorization and overfitting, releasing a model trained on copyrighted data could potentially result in legal issues.” Why is the work of visual artists being treated differently?

Many have compared image generators to human artists seeking out inspiration. Those two are not the same. My art is literally being fed into these generators through the datasets, and spat back out of a program that has no inherent sense of what is respectful to artists. As long as my art is literally integrated into the system used to create the images, it is commercial use of my art without my consent.

Until there is an ethically sourced database that compensates artists for the use of their images, I am against AI art. I also think platforms should do everything they can to prevent scraping of their content for these databases. 

Artists, speak out against this predatory practice! Our art should not be exploited without our consent, and we deserve to be compensated when our art is exploited for commercial use. 

[theidiotsgarden]

On December 6th 1989, fourteen young women, many of them engineering students, were murdered in the mass shooting at Montreal’s École Polytechnique that was prompted by the killer’s hatred of women and what he said was “fighting feminism”.   On December 6, the National Day of Remembrance and Action on Violence Against Women, we remember: Geneviève Bergeron Hélène Colgan Nathalie Croteau Barbara Daigneault Anne-Marie Edward Maud Haviernick Maryse Laganière Maryse Leclair Anne-Marie Lemay Sonia Pelletier Michèle Richard Annie St-Arneault Annie Turcotte Barbara Klucznik-Widajewicz

[theidiotsgarden]

the scorpion doesn’t care who it stings

I posted this on my Facebook four days ago, and it seems to have taken on a life of its own for a minute.

I thought I’d repost it, here:

I can not fathom the emptiness, the insecurity, the insatiable need for attention and validation, the staggering arrogance, the malevolence and total void of human experience that is Elon Musk.

He’s the richest man on the planet. You can’t go anywhere or do anything without interacting with something he’s part of in some way. There are literal millions of people who uncritically worship him, in spite of overwhelming evidence that he’s a douchebag. Some number of them will come after me, as they come after anyone who points at their naked emperor. They’ll spend entire days going after me and people like me, slavishly serving a man who does not even know they exist. They are his army of fools, uncritically serving his every whim. And it still isn’t enough.

He can have any material thing he wants, and he will *never* be happy or satisfied. He has no real friends. Every single person around him is either a viper, a parasite, or both.

So what does he do? He bullies and threatens and harasses and trolls and behaves like the weak, scared, insecure child he has always been. That’s a tragedy for him, but it’s dangerous for us. He doesn’t care what he destroys or who he hurts as he chases this existential thing he cannot ever have.

You know the saying “hurt people hurt people”? He’s a hurt person who is hurting our society, making people I care about less safe. The consequences of this one man’s midlife crisis are global, and that terrifies me.

In a comment, about an hour later, I added:

You know what’s really interesting is the tiny number of people who are attacking and harassing me are either typical right wing idiots who all spew the same garbage from behind their wraparound sunglasses, or these weird nerds who are DESPERATE to justify how toxic and cruel and destructive Elon Musk is. Like, nerds, listen to Old Man Wheaton, please. 

Don’t hitch your wagon to Elon Musk. There are countless people who are amazing and genuinely good, who do all the things we wish we could do. Stop defending this piece of shit who would push you into a volcano without even learning your name, if it would save him half a second on his way to his next shitpost on $8Chan (formerly known as Twitter).He doesn’t stand up to anyone. He doesn’t stand up FOR anyone. He is not your champion. He’s angry and chaotic and destructive, and you have to understand that the scorpion doesn’t care who it stings.

Finally, I want to add two things: 1) It’s interesting to me that a lot of the people who came to my post to be dicks used a lot of MAGA language. It reminds me of this thing my friend says about concerts: the audience looks like the band. Of course there’s substantial overlap between the angry, hateful, terrified, cowards who support Trump and the same who Stan Elon Musk, and it’s real interesting to see it in action.

2) I haven’t used Twitter for years. I quit before it was popular (lol) because it was better for my mental health. I logged in once when my book was published, and I deleted all my tweets when he announced he was buying Twitter. When he took over and immediately amplified a conspiracy theorist, I made my account private. In a perfect world, I would delete my account entirely. But I have to keep it for reasons I hope I don’t have to explain. After I posted this on Facebook, it made its way around Twitter (still is, four days later, which is … a thing that is happening) and when people went to look at my account, they saw that it was closed. As much of a fucking manbaby Elon Musk clearly is, he didn’t do anything to my account. In fact, the only reason he even knows I exist (if he does) is through a vanity search of his name. I locked my account on my own, and so should you.

I am only on:

Tumblr

Facebook (itswilwheaton)

Instagram (itswilwheaton)

and my blog that I’ve been neglecting for too long at wilwheaton.net.

I’ve had a Reddit account since 2006, predating user-created subs! I’m u/wil there.

Okay that’s all. Thanks for listening. Please choose to be kind.

[theidiotsgarden]

[theidiotsgarden]

[theidiotsgarden]

[theidiotsgarden]

And yet, women today still have to face gender-based discrimination in geology.

  We are not weak, nor fragile, nor moody, nor unprofessionnal. And if you don’t want to “risk our health” by hiring us and allowing to work in a male-dominated environment, we’ll just end up working with each other and you will bitterly regret it. Less primal behaviour, especially in the field, is something to strive for, both to increase team productivity and to make the working environment healthier. 

We are not the future, we are the past, the present and the future. We are not your wives, mothers and sisters, we are your bosses, colleagues, friends, enemies, mothers, wives and sisters. We are members of society as well and we are making it known. 

Dr. Katherine (Kay) Fowler-Billings was an American naturalist and geologist. She is commonly known for being one of the earliest female geologists. In 1926 she dressed as a man to join a geologic expedition. She mapped >500 square miles of the Laramie Mountains alone in 2 Summers. She fundamentally changed our understanding of the Rockies.

She did not know how to use that gun.

[theidiotsgarden]

Inspired by Heilung

[theidiotsgarden]

Marseille

[theidiotsgarden]

Boire avec vigueur, tomber avec honneur.

Un brouillon de banderole associative.

[theidiotsgarden]

"Now, bring me that horizon"

That phrase is what a friend of mine sent me when I announced that I got accepted into a program that would have been the *perfect* opportunity for an end-of-studies project abroad. And which could have been an amazing way to start my career.

It's highly selective and I was so proud. It's something that usually happens only to cool and badass people (which suddenly included me yay!)...

But then. Pandemic.

The horizon will wait.

[theidiotsgarden]

Not much to say here. Except that with the fact that this drawing is sprawled between two pages, finishing the bloody horns is a nightmare I haven’t managed to look at in months. 

Well... you might be stuck “almost finished” Mr. Faune. 

[theidiotsgarden]

That one originated from wanting to put a face on a soda can during an exam... over the weeks it became more of a totem-like face and less and less like a can. 

Still pretty cylindrical though.

[theidiotsgarden]

SPLASH! It's not even dry yet!

[theidiotsgarden]

(7 - English) The Sailor and the Swallows

The churchbell rang clearly in the air, and a tenuous stream of elderly people spilled from the doors and on the place. The priest came out last. Becoming aware of a dark-skinned young man who was eyeing the building rather intently, he went over to greet the stranger: “Hello young man.” “Hello father” he answered, still looking at the building. “You have a lovely church, but the stained glass panels would need some rejuvenation.” “You don’t say... but you are not unaware of the fact that parishioners are becoming fewer by the days, and along with them our sources of funds, which leaves us with scraps to maintain our patrimony. It is such a shame, this building really is a gem...”

The young man finally turned his eyes to the priest and the latter noticed that the youngster sported numerous tattoos: an army of swallows spiraled around his left arm to delve into his sleeve and an anchor was barely visible at the base of his neck.

“You know” said the young man, “I’d clean them myslef for a modest amount, were you to provide me with a ladder and cleaning product.” “That would be very kind of you but why? You’re quite obviously not from around here...” “That’s correct” the stranger said, smiling. “But I still have some love for the man in the clouds, whatever his name.” “Very well. How much do you want?” “I’ll be happy with five euros per hour.” “How will you live on that? It’s so little!” “There are many panels, father.” “Very well”, said the priest at last, shaking the stranger’s hand. “Could I have your name?” The stranger smiled, shook his head and walked away on wobbly legs.

A small house made of stones stood at the angle of a sandy pathway hardly large enough to let a car pass through, its roof covered in ceramic tiles of varying freshness. The fence of the garden, which stood at the right of the house, was hidden by fragrant flower bushes.  A woman with dark skin was working amongst bluish pansies, her fuzzy hair pulled back by an ochre headband.  She turned suddenly when she heard the gate squeak open and a huge grin split her face. “You came!”

The churchbell rang clearly in the air, the stained glass panels filtered the light, colouring fleetingly the white dress worn by a young woman with a smile too big for her face. She was holding to the arm of a young man wearing very much the same expression. Welcomed in front of the church by many small soap bubbles, the newlyweds burst out giggling, radiating happiness. In the middle of the crowd, the man with the swallows dipped his bubble-making device in the soapy water repeatedly.

Assaulted by everyone, the newlyweds did not have a second to themselves. Required here for a picture, there for congratulations, there again for hugs and more smiles... nobody noticed the man with the swallow disappear.

The churchbell’s ring melted away, covered by the howling of the wind and backwash, the metallic chiming of halyards against masts and the cries of the seagulls. The man fastened the helm and went to drape an arm around the mizzenmast, looking steadfastly to the horizon.

[theidiotsgarden]

“Where the wind does not blow” 

- The Catacombs

This character has a dog named Target, but I cannot get ahold of some other drawings I have of the pair

The story goes that Mistral does not have a face, he exists only underground with this gas mask. He found Target in a cardboard box underneath a sewer plate and the dog just kept following him. By interacting with enough living beings, Mistral starts to actually get what it’s like to be alive... I don’t know how the story continues, but I always pictured Mistral somehow climbing out of the catacombs and finally removing his mask, gasping for air, colors, and sounds.

[theidiotsgarden]

Ce 10 mai 2018 nous avons perdu l’auteur d’un des fondements de ma culture personnelle. “Naphtalène est orpheline”, s’il n’y avait qu’elle ! Un berger et son cheptel entier, abandonnés par leur créateur. 

Merci M. F’murr pour votre loufoquerie, votre humour d’une finesse inégalée, votre amour de l’absurde, votre précision à la fois dans le dessin et les références, votre absence de crainte du ridicule et votre génie, non seulement des alpages mais aussi au pied du mur.

Avec ce départ c’est aussi la fin d’une époque : ces alpages sont ceux des années 50 et n’ont, tristement peut-être, plus grand-chose à voir avec les alpages d’aujourd’hui. 

Bah, il y aurait tellement de manières de terminer ce paragraphe, tellement de citations de circonstance, ou drôles, ou simplement bien tournées. Je me prends à imaginer le troupeau cherchant à éviter d’être teintes en noir pour l’occasion, finissant par raisonner avec le chien en appuyant le fait que leur créateur aurait probablement préféré qu’elles restassent telles qu’il les avait imaginées : blanches, suffolks ou noires, tombées du camion, ronchon, trouillardes, magouilleuses... 

Merci M. F’murr, les alpages éternels vous sourient et j’espère que de là où vous êtes...

F’murr :(