John McLoone

I’m envious of people who have artistic talents.

A few software versions ago, I felt I could hold my own in graphic design. A few years back, however, I alerted anyone who needed to know that Johnny wasn’t learning any new tricks. As new technology emerges, I just marvel at what it can do.

I don’t understand artificial intelligence nor do I intend to. Maybe that stubbornness just shows my lack of real intelligence. My fear is that one day, creators won’t create but will put a few prompts into a phone and we’ll call the output “art.”

Will there come a day that instead of covering our refrigerators with crayon drawings, little kiddos will swipe this way and that on a tablet and cast images into a screen instead?

The walls of our home are still adorned with various art projects, some more than a decade old. We raised some artistically talented kids, at least in dads’ eyes. One still paints as a hobby, and when I see her creations, I’m as proud and excited as when that toddler gripped the marker in the wrong hand and scrawled out rudimentary stick figures.

They obviously didn’t inherit the dexterity of an artist from me, though I did bask in the glory on the front page of the Lake Country Reporter for my ultimate creation. It was exactly 49 years ago. The year was 1976. America was celebrating its 200^th birthday. All the school kids were assigned the task of designing a poster to commemorate the bicentennial. I put some thought into this, which was rare for me at that age. I had the concept, and I’ll admit I had a little bit of help from an older sister, because when pencil went to poster, it didn’t much look like an eagle perched on the liberty bell with a Revolutionary War soldier holding an American flag. Conjure that image in your minds, it was inspiring. Bridget drew some outlines for me, and I pulled out the marker box. Half of them were always dried out, but I made do,

A few days later, I was summoned to a ceremony at the village hall. Any thoughts that I was the next Van Gogh or Picasso didn’t last long. I learned that my artwork did not place first, second or third, so I did not get to ride in a float in the Fourth of July parade. Comments from judges talked about the brilliant colors and attention to detail. My poster earned “honorable mention,” and the judge noted it “embodied the spirit” of the event. My image is forever in the annals back issues of that now-defunct newspaper though. I don’t let the fact that my father owned it lessen the achievement.

From that point forward, I learned to appreciate art a little more, even art that perhaps just embodies the spirit.