Gregor Vukasinovič
Storyteller
I don't consider myself a photographer; neither by profession nor by passion. I let the automation do way too much of the work for that. Even less still, I see myself as an "artist". In fact, that word has a strong negative connotation in my mind, and it's only been growing stronger over the last few years. "Yeah, AI might destroy humanity as we know it, but you know what's even worse? It could steal my art. MY ART, Sacrebleu!" They don't put it like that of course, but that's what it comes down to. Always makes me cringe. If nothing else, then because I'm absolutely certain they talked the same way about the first photo cameras, the first video cameras, then color film, Photoshop, the internet... you get the point. If that's the perspective you chose, then it's been a steady decline that's been going on for centuries. I guess it's no wonder then this type of "artist" tends to be fairly miserable, all things considered. Does their art not have a message they want to convey? Don't they want that message to spread? Only secondary to making money, getting credit?
What I am instead, (if a classification is really that necessary) I couldn't tell with too much detail. The vanguard sent out ahead of the main invasion of the aliens? Checking the air and noting down coordinates where the bomber squads will have to strike hardest and where not so much? Something like that? In any case, I'm fine with calling myself an observer, a reporter, a surveyor, on a perpetual search of scenes to illustrate his findings. Either findings already made, or yet to be discovered. Everything is a metaphor, sometimes for many different things, and rarely for itself. A chair is never just a chair, I just don't know what else it is right away. Roaming the surrounding world is a means to overcome writer's block, to refuel on inspiration. Taking pictures forces me to take a look at the world. If a picture happens to look nice enough that I consider publishing it and spew a bit of woo-woo along with it, that's an added bonus.
Storyteller
I don't consider myself a photographer; neither by profession nor by passion. I let the automation do way too much of the work for that. Even less still, I see myself as an "artist". In fact, that word has a strong negative connotation in my mind, and it's only been growing stronger over the last few years. "Yeah, AI might destroy humanity as we know it, but you know what's even worse? It could steal my art. MY ART, Sacrebleu!" They don't put it like that of course, but that's what it comes down to. Always makes me cringe. If nothing else, then because I'm absolutely certain they talked the same way about the first photo cameras, the first video cameras, then color film, Photoshop, the internet... you get the point. If that's the perspective you chose, then it's been a steady decline that's been going on for centuries. I guess it's no wonder then this type of "artist" tends to be fairly miserable, all things considered. Does their art not have a message they want to convey? Don't they want that message to spread? Only secondary to making money, getting credit?
What I am instead, (if a classification is really that necessary) I couldn't tell with too much detail. The vanguard sent out ahead of the main invasion of the aliens? Checking the air and noting down coordinates where the bomber squads will have to strike hardest and where not so much? Something like that? In any case, I'm fine with calling myself an observer, a reporter, a surveyor, on a perpetual search of scenes to illustrate his findings. Either findings already made, or yet to be discovered. Everything is a metaphor, sometimes for many different things, and rarely for itself. A chair is never just a chair, I just don't know what else it is right away. Roaming the surrounding world is a means to overcome writer's block, to refuel on inspiration. Taking pictures forces me to take a look at the world. If a picture happens to look nice enough that I consider publishing it and spew a bit of woo-woo along with it, that's an added bonus.