You don't need AI, you need art markets.
The digital space can be an isolating liar that feeds on your vulnerability and uncertainty. It shakes the hand of the imposter syndrome and smiles as you curl up deeper into the shadows.
At least this is an experience I've had as an artist, and one shared by many friends and creators I've discussed the navigation of the modern creative venture with. We're all aware of the nefarious efforts by social media companies and their algorithms to have us in a constant loop of feeling inadequate and desperately seeking validation. Maybe if i join this reel trend? Maybe one of those voice over joke videos? Does ANYONE want to see my feet?
Maybe people will pay attention if I put my art through a prompt and-
no.
no my friend.
don't do that reel, don't recycle that trend and for god sake, don't show feet.
you don't need a gimmick to make your art matter.
you don't need a trend to make connection.
you don't need AI.
you need art markets
I walked into the Regina Senior Citizen Center excited to spend a day seeing familiar faces, exploring my local artisan talent pool and staying out of the 40C heat. Little did I know I'd walk out with more than a handful of new art, several sales of prints, cds, and shirts, and several waves to several old friends.
I walked out with 4 gifts I had not expected.
Gift 1: Affirmations
Sometimes when I look at my art, I see something less than it is. I see my imperfections, my inconsistencies, my "I wish I had's" and I forget that just because some person in Japan who spent 35 years creating photographs has a better understanding of aperture than I do, doesn't mean what I create is devoid of value. Nothing brings affirmation like real people with their real eyes exploring your real gallery. Whether it was folks embracing the ominesque horrors of the nightmares and dreamscapes in my portrait work, or appreciating the pro-nature messaging of my botanical "you dont need AI" prints, no amount of reshares or heart emoji's matches watching someones eyes widen as they find a piece that reaches out to them.
Not only do the attendees offer that reinforcement, but having other artists that you yourself are excited to see the work of come to your table and express their appreciation of your work is an incredibly fulfilling experience. There is a community of artists and art enjoyers just happy to be in a room together basking in the shared dopamine of bright colors, eclectic intrigue and comradery. (don't get me started in the full display of zines and educational material for those ready to change the world.)
If you're looking for a space to be seen as an artist and the human being behind that art...
you don't need artificial interest,
you need art markets
Gift 2: Inspiration
My absolute favorite moment of every art market I've attended is that initial dopamine kick of taking in the overwhelm of curiosities. After setting up our table, we did a quick speed walk through the room to try to take in as much of the art on display before doors opened to the public. The faces of so many people so excited to share their wares, the variance in how they setup their displays, what pieces they felt were most important to emphasize and the affirmative nods of "I'll make sure to swing by your booth later too" is such a thrill. From literal kids selling their bead work for the first time to established and seasoned artists bringing their veteran craft to yet another room, the scope of experience and excitements on display is so inspiring. While I definitely sit on the latter side of the ages in the room, it felt like there were newbies and wise sages on all sides of the experience spectrum. So many different ideas and creations, collections and curiosities, all offering a fresh effort on a tried and true idea or something completely new. It would have been impossible to leave that room without at least one instance of "maybe I should try..." and that is a beautiful thing.
you don't need artificial ideas
you need art markets
Gift 3: Conversation
I have always firmly believed everyone has a story to tell. Everyone's lived experience holds value worth hearing and adding to the collective wisdom - this show offered me that in abundance. On my table were many prints, a pile of CD's, and a few old Buster Brownie cameras. These were a triforce of conversation starters. Someone had a niece who was in a black metal band and loved drums, someone else was intent to make sure I understood how aperture effects depth of field and that I could probably get photos in better focus if I tried some different techniques (amazing.) and another had a father whom passed down a camera similar to one featured on one of my shirts. I learned so much about what these individuals loved, and what the people they loved loved. My day was a steady offering of personal experiences that reinforced to me just how much art means to people. Even if my art wasn't for them, the fact we both shared a love for that medium was enough to bond, even just for a few minutes of dialogue. I am someone very capable of talking endlessly. I spent my day listening. It was some of the best listening I've ever done.
you don't need artificial insights
you need art markets
Gift 4: Hope
I don't know how to start this section.
I want to deliver a clever line or quip, but I don't think I can place it any simpler than this.
I have a wonderful daughter who is trans.
This room made me feel safer for her future than I have ever felt.
The diversity of people of all walks of life, gender expressions, character, aesthetic subculture and background was incredible. The amount of nonchalance to this variance brought me so much joy. No one in the room gave a shit about normalcy or social expectation. A room of people living their best lives, expressing their best selves and just fucking excited to see art and see each other. Punk kids giving away cassettes of their album (which sound crusty as fuck and rad by the way) and teenagers starting their first CD collection, people who took a photography class in high school excited to try analog cameras themselves, first time clothing designers and more buttons than you could count. Vendors offering educational libraries on resistance and inclusions, people sharing the art that got them through the hardest times in their lives - a whole room of people sharing the hope that sustains them and offering a piece of it for often less than a Spotify subscription.
This room had love in a way that I'm still basking in days later - and ohhhh diid they have hate for AI and the exploitation of this digital era.
My "you dont need AI you need-" stickers and prints all but sold out. People absolutely resonated with a message of touching grass and backhanding data centers. Its easy to get lost in the worst parts of the comment sections online, and nothing is more galvanizing than watching a dozen people turn to their friends and say "we need this" to a sticker that says "you don't need AI, you need fluffy seeds."
The algorithms love to talk shit about gen-z, about millennials, about the apathy and selfishness of the populous of 2026. This room was an important reminder that the internet focuses on the most controversial aspects of culture to make you feel like your back is up against a wall. This market was a reminder that it may be a wall behind you, but that wall is made up of people of every walk of life, all raising a middle finger in unison to the idea that we are lesser than the machines that spit and bark. If there is a wall, its closing in on them, not us.
you don't need artificial intentions
you need art markets
A prompt will never fulfill like a conversation. A comment will never replace watching someone's eyes widen in excitement. Numbers go up will never match watching someone inspired by what you've created.
There is a place for the digital, and it's easy to let it consume beyond its borders, but you don't have to look far, you don't have to pay much, you don't even have to offer in abundance.
You can walk into a room and see what exists.
You can start a conversation about something that inspires you.
You can take home a piece of art or a piece of heart.
You may be at the mercy of an algorithm on your phone
but not here.
Here you have autonomy.
As an artist, as a person, as a part of a community.
you don't need to be artificial
you don't need to rely on the artificial
you are real.
you need real.
you need art markets.
(I needed this art market)
-e
