RE: https://mastodon.social/@iamgerardthomas/116547116378567783

I missed this, but here I am now.

Sometimes, I am not really sure why I post anymore. A long time ago in a net long since forgot, there were people, many many people, and some corporations. The only reason a corp had a site was to put contact info, like to get in touch with live humans, or their pdf catalogues, or sometimes current events and or sales. And people, the mavericks, the geeks, the artists, the uni people, were reaching out to find others who had similarities.

But that was then, this is now. Every fucking click is monetised. No one is sure who is online for what reasons so it is best to remain guarded or behind walled gardens where your group is half AI bots and some irate and often conspiracy drunk idiots.

In those olde times, I met more people globally than I could ever hope to now. So many topics and groups that it was fun to chat and learn. See new art, find people doing research in areas I liked... you know actual humans that wanted to find other living actual humans. It wasn't about money, ego, or subversion.

I miss that. And I detest this now.

So I put out my art to make connections, however rare. I have no way online to purchase any of my work. I have not sold anything online for nearly 15yrs now. I fight against this current reality so hard that it is nearly impossible to search for either myself or my art. I actively push against the shit. No search engines have me indexed, at least nothing more recent than 8yrs ago. Even that is very difficult to find.

I assume, at this point, that I will only grow more reclusive as this corp shithole wants more and more of my data. I say, often, that I will give them nothing because they've made billions off my data, I've made nothing. As this gets more aggressive, I just slip further and further in a life completely without digital communication. It's a choice. It's a hill I've chosen to die and be forgot upon.

But part of me still reaches out. Maybe someone will like the art, like the stories, find connection, find a few minutes of respite in an otherwise monetised nightmare.

Side note: The site grows ever more complicated. It is a long labyrinth of the art and associated stories told in a non-linear way. It has hidden easter eggs that you can find but remember you so they will never appear again. It randomises much of that hidden stuff two so that no two people can have the same experience. Huge amounts of hidden messages and codes. It is a labour of artistic love for the scant 2-3 humans who find it and enjoy it a year. In 2000, my peak traffic year, I got 31,000 humans a month on average. I never charted to see how many were repeats. Never separated bot from human, but, lets face it, there were nearly no bots or even search engines doing much indexing. As the shitshow grew that traffic died. Too many things actively stealing attention and precious minutes. Too many things I have no intention on competing with. Since, to do so, you have to become them. FB and IG marketing, coordinated socials posting, automated regular posting, automated replies to keep up with it. That's not human. That's not connecting. That's just stealing some of their minutes so they have less of a life and you have a falsely inflated ego.

I will die poor, unknown, and long forgot in this mess. But I will die as my own person with my own art that never became a tool for the broligarchs.