Matt’s hand-drawn sketch from the tribute book.

Back before AI filters could turn any photo into a sketch, I was pretty handy with a pencil or a piece of charcoal.

In high school, I had a penchant for figure drawing, and spent many hours trying to capture ephemeral poses with live models in studio classes. I won a few awards for it, actually - and carried that love of gestural creation into college.

Of course, not long after, I succumbed to the internet bug, trading in paper for pixels, carbon for code. I had a fine arts concentration and even produced a thesis portfolio show, but eventually my brushes took a back seat to the zeroes and ones.

I was recently clearing some shelf space in my office, and I stumbled upon a tribute book I was contracted to illustrate during my senior year. It was honoring one of Flagler College’s benefactors, and included a series of hand-drawn sketches as part of the scope.

Another sketch of one of the benefactors.

Here are just a few of the faces I captured (the first was the subject himself, Lawrence Lewis). I must have been 22 when I made these, but it’s funny: I still remember the weight and pressure of the pencil against my fingers as I toiled over a drafting table in the wee hours of the morning.

It was work, yes. But I loved it - every painstaking, 45-degree stroke and imperfect blemish that demanded a twisted rubber eraser to mend. The blending of soft grays across textured paper, glowing wildly under a cheap fluorescent light. Every incomplete line that meandered into negative space with unbridled purpose.

Kurt Vonnegut once said (and I’m paraphrasing) that writers only get off on completing their article or manuscript. The act itself is like moving mountains, editing and rewriting and editing again. I can attest to that.

But the visual artist?

They find the most joy in the making.

The process. The creation.

A third portrait from the same collection.

I miss drawing. It was cathartic. Healing, even. So after finding this gem, I dusted off my Faber-Castell graphites, found an old artifact of a sharpener, and made a deal with myself to pick it back up. To make space for a truly human experience. To tap a long dormant algorithm that I hope still functions.

You might disagree, but I don’t believe AI is killing creativity. Yes, it’s putting pressure on careers and driving a grotesque amount of slop. But I think this is a momentary phenomenon. Ahead of us might be a period of reinvention - one where the value of art is reshaped and revitalized.

I know. It’s a big guess. Bigger than a single post can tackle. And it requires hope and optimism - two traits in short supply these days.

So for now, I’m letting go. Letting my right hand draft the possibilities. Not questioning the purpose or the outcome. Not pondering MCPs or APIs to make inspired connections. Just putting pencil to paper once more - and seeing what happens.

Wish me luck. And I hope you find the same kind of joy in your own creative pursuits.

Because whatever you make, it will always have something AI can never replace: heart.