No deadlines. No grades. Just play.

When we were small, the sandbox was our magic kingdom (not to be confused with the slightly pricier Magic Kingdom). Moats, castles, towers – all doomed to collapse the moment the garden hose got involved. But nobody minded. The point was never to create something permanent. The point was to dig and pile and pat down the sand and position the green plastic soldiers. Then we’d stick a flag in the top and holler, “Look what we made!”

Lately that’s how I’ve started thinking about creativity again in life’s Act III (even I & II, actually). It’s easy to, somewhere along the way, gradually start picking up the notion that making art has to be serious business with at least a prayer of being monetized. That we can’t be beginners at something in this stage of life. That someday our paintings should be gallery-level stuff, every story (like this blogpost, of course) should change the world, and every project should be… well, worth something.

Which brings me to my most recent adventure in AI video making, an attempt at an “age progression” short for the final version of my post last week called The Incredible Shrinking Man. What I was aiming for was to have each character morph into the next. It ended up looking less like art and more like a science experiment gone wrong. The characters melted and warped like peeled bananas left in a parked car during a Phoenix summer. While I was initially disappointed in the results, here’s the important thing: nobody died (with the possible exception of the banana man on the left – looks like he got hit the hardest). The sky didn’t fall. And after a moment of embarrassment, I laughed and thought no one – absolutely no one – must ever see this.

Oh yeah? I’m calling out myself on last week’s cover up. If you dare, watch video below in all its sandboxy wonder.

We don’t need to be tortured artists. We don’t have to save the world with every sketch or song. We can start small, try something clumsy, and let people clap for us just because we tried. When we share our messy attempts, it gives others permission to try their own. Suddenly, the world feels less like a competition and more like a collective sandbox.

The Sandbox Rule is this: no deadlines, no grades, just play.

And if you’re worried – as I sometimes am – that age or AI is rendering you obsolete, here’s another way we can look at it: I suspect both are still figuring out their relationship with us. We can let age teach us to chill a little. And AI is just a toddler with finger paints, making a glorious mess. Neither of them requires us to have everything figured out.

The Sandbox Rule is this: no deadlines, no grades, just play. Just dig in. Be brave and share what you make. Let a grandchild cheer you on and put the art on her fridge. Be authentic. Don’t worry about being original (spoiler: it’s all been done before). Try. Fail. Share. Laugh. Be light-hearted, if that’s what you feel.

Because the beauty of Act III is this: the world is still a sandbox, and if we wake up once again to yet another day, give thanks – we’ve still got the chance to make a thing or two that might help brighten our little corner of the world.

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P.S.

If you enjoy these little sandbox rambles in Breaking Hip, I’d love for you to like, subscribe, share or do others of those social media thingies to spread the word so more folks can pull up a chair in the sandbox with us. And if you ever find yourself worrying that your art isn’t good enough, I invite you to rewatch my early age-progression AI efforts below. Trust me: nothing will free you faster than seeing my digital characters age like dead bananas. If I can share that, you can share your work too.

P.P.S.

I still have my digital refrigerator waiting for people to send me their art so I can post it. More details here.