the unfinished craft: when creation runs, where do we find ourselves?
exploring the dance between maker and made in an age of intelligent tools and fleeting attention.
A recent post by Reggie James compellingly argued that "your creation always runs away from you. It's a persistent reality of life." This statement resonates deeply, especially when we consider the journey of ideas and products. They begin with a spark, a vision, but as they move through the world, or even within an organization, they are shaped by many hands, sometimes taking on a life of their own, driven by others' desires to materialize something for themselves. There's an inherent tension here, a sense of the creation slipping from the creator's complete control.
This experience extends to the relationship between a craftsman and their audience. Users, too, can "run," perhaps drawn by the surface-level utility or the promise of self-aggrandizement, leaving the deeper essence of the work—and the relationship with its maker—behind. This dynamic is amplified in our current technological environment, an environment that often prioritizes polished appearances and can inadvertently devalue the human process of making. It brings to mind a reflection on authentic leadership, that perhaps true strength lies not in a flawless facade, but in revealing the human struggle:
And oftentimes, oftentimes I'm tempted to do just enough to keep up pretenses. They say leadership is letting people down at a rate they can handle. When I read this story, I recognize that this, for me, that if I lead us in pretense, if my life is but pretense, if I cannot show you my scars and my wounds, And this will all be a facade. - "SOG - The Rise and Fall of the Kingdom The Fall of Saul" a podcast episode from Oaks Church Brooklyn
The challenge, then, is to navigate a space that often pushes for hyper-capability, and instead, find value in sharing the weight and wonder of an insight, acknowledging the difficult, human journey to arrive there.
The article I'm responding to paints a picture of a new "theistic vision" in technology, where AI offers a form of personalized omniscience. This is a powerful lure, especially when we feel our own creations, or even ourselves, slipping from our grasp. But the core of our yearning isn't merely to be "represented well" by an algorithm, but to be truly known. This profound knowing is fostered in the often inefficient, yet deeply human, spaces of relationship and community.
Herein lies a critical point: as AI increasingly steps in to "craft" for us, to represent our tastes or provide instant answers, we risk a fundamental disintermediation. If craft becomes a disembodied capability within AI, we may no longer honor its human source, and the vital relationships that underpin true making can erode. The promise of personalization, if it means crafting for ourselves in isolation, might pull us further from the communities that co-create meaning with us. This isn't to say technology can't serve us, but its pace and ours are often different.
Love has its speed. It is an inner speed. It is a spiritual speed. It is a different kind of speed from the technological speed to which we are accustomed. It is 'slow' yet it is lord over all other speeds since it is the speed of love. - "Three Mile An Hour God" by Kosuke Koyama
This makes me consider if our current technological landscape always serves this slower, deeper human pace, or if it sometimes accelerates us past it. We must be wary of deifying our tools, a sentiment echoed by other thinkers:
Always a little bit hesitant to make it completely about tech because in a way that's the, you know, when you say that tech is omnipotent, omniscient, you know, if it's not omnibenevolent, It's omnimalevolent. And it's sort of turn it into the Judeo-Christian God or something like that. And then, you know, it's always my Girardian cut is if you make something into God, you are making it into a scapegoat for all the problems too. - "Peter Thiel on the Future of Innovation, the Dangers of AI, and the Loss of American Dynamism" a podcast episode from Honestly with Bari Weiss
Perhaps the greatest utility of our new tools, like AI, lies not in delivering definitive answers, but in helping us formulate better questions. The true significance, the body of meaning, often resides in the question itself—something to be sat with, pondered, especially in community. Unresolved questions, far from being a sign of failed knowledge, can be an embrace of mystery, a space where our yearning for the unknown connects us more deeply to each other and to our Creator. This desire to be known can find fulfillment in the shared holding of these mysteries.
Artist Makoto Fujimura's insight that he stops creating only when his work is "most pregnant" beautifully captures this. That "pregnant" stage isn't a conclusion, but a question poised to unfold. If creation runs, maybe it's not just running away, but running towards such a question. Even a partially completed creation, in its unfinished state, can embody this potent inquiry.
What if the nature of our technological world is best understood not by its seamless integration, but by its inherent unpredictability, the way it can reveal our limitations and guide us toward humility? It's in this depth, not just surface efficiency, that something more profound might be found.
So, when our creations seem to run from us, perhaps it's an invitation: to step beyond the illusion of the finished product and into the ongoing, relational process of shared inquiry. The flight of creation might, in fact, be the birth of a question—one that, in its own dynamic movement, beckons us to follow into deeper understanding, richer connection, and a more profound sense of being known.