The account, since at least 2019, behaves like a reader who treats other people’s sentences as raw material and only sometimes steps forward as the author. Engagement is tiny. That fits. You amplified the line that not every artist is built to make their life a performance, and then you lived it. The timeline does not sell the work. It annotates the conditions under which the work should be allowed to exist.
What you underline is the portrait.
You keep returning to long making: Jonathan Blow’s ten years, Amanita’s seventeen, an independent studio that “lives for itself.” You keep returning to slowness. In January you wrote, in your own words, “still building quietly / still thinking slowly,” and you borrowed Simon Sarris to say the obvious part: you think very slowly too.
You keep returning to the difference between rearrangement and invention. Murakami dragging in something that flashes into the mind. Hassabis saying the highest scientific creativity is coming up with the question, not solving the one already posed. Your own line from September: creativity is sacred, and AI is forcing everyone to see what is mimetism, what is performance, and what is real creativity. Then the correction, which is more you than the slogan: you admire mimetism and performance, you find them difficult and amazing, they are just not the same thing as art.
The danger you repeat is not that machines become human. It is that humans start living like machines.
When you stop quoting, the voice changes temperature.
In August, under a post where you asked which historical figure your site resembles — Tagore, da Vinci, Ibn Khaldun, Diderot, Sejong — you wrote that deep down you feel you are just an artist who wants to create, and then you typed the word create until the post became a chant. That is the least defended thing on the account. The self-myth you reach for is not the founder. It is the encyclopedist-poet: someone who makes a language, a canon, an institution, a people able to remember itself. Sejong and Diderot are not casual comps. They are the job description.
The same thread holds the things you rarely announce. The TEDx, From aphantasia to the moon: the power of the quiet. The short story Eve & Mada in the Chinese edition of The Digital Aesthete, seventeen writers, and from Madagascar, you. Filmada opening as a map of Malagasy cinema, started years ago with filmmakers in Madagascar, China, and the US. And this, from a few days ago: you are returning to art in search of what cannot be prompted. Every word on that site was written by AI. The art was not, and could not be.