Cynthia A. Morgan's Blog, page 13

The Nevermore – #magicalfantasy #romance

.

Art and flash fiction by ~Morgan~

If you’d like to keep up with everything I’m doing, sign up for my monthly newsletter by visiting my author website

If you’d like to see more of my artwork, please visit my DeviantArt page

Artificial Efflorescence – Can #AI Recognize Beauty?

How does the mind determine if something is beautiful?

Is it a mathematical equation or is it solely based upon an emotional response?

 

These images are representative of that question.

Could AI ultimately recognize beauty or is beauty truly in the eye of the beholder?

. Art by ~Morgan~

If you’d like to keep up with everything I’m doing, sign up for my monthly newsletter by visiting my author website

If you’d like to see more of my artwork, please visit my DeviantArt page

 

 

Truthseeker – #Visual #Poetry for #Diversity

Poetry and Art by ~Morgan~

If you’d like to keep up with everything I’m doing, sign up for my monthly newsletter by visiting my author website

If you’d like to see more of my artwork, please visit my DeviantArt page

#AI Generators – Are they a tool or the Terminator?

What is Synthography?

Synthography, a term derived from the words synthesis and photographer, is used to describe a specific form of AI art. It refers to the process of creating digital media from AI image generators. There’s a great deal of resistance whenever someone mentions AI Art, and for many reasons, and I understand the passion. Take, for example, AI writing. Though there’s less social rage about it, AI writing can be seen as much a threat to writers as AI art can be seen as a threat to artists. The same argument can be used: artists and writers will lose their livelihood as a result of the demon AI.

AI, often misunderstood, is not a rogue entity like Skynet or a harbinger of The Matrix. It is, in fact, Complex Information Processing. It’s a tool that, without the guidance of a human, remains inactive. It doesn’t spontaneously create masterpieces like Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’ or Peter Mohrbacheumr’s ‘The Last City. ‘It’s the human input that breathes life into AI, shaping it into a powerful creative tool.

It sounds extreme, I know, but I’ve heard statements like these and others since I dipped my toe in the Sythography world. AI is a tool that requires input — often very, very specific input. Just like Jasper, Rytr, Hyperwrite, and Sudowrite, which are AI writing tools used in creation, AI art generators are tools used in creation, but they can only create something if an artist specifies what they want.

For example, Even if I use a top-rated AI generator like Midjourney, inputting a basic prompt will generate a very basic image that usually has errors.

However, with more specific and detailed input, the AI generator can produce more complex and refined images, such as

The Art of AI

To create something like this, you must repeatedly enter a complex set of parameters. This particular image took a total of Creating any type of impactful AI-generated art requires balancing consistency and creativity. Retrying again, and again, and again…sometimes 30–60 or even 100 times… is necessary to achieve the type of image shown above. Only by teaching the AI generator over a large number of regenerations can it improve on excellence, style elements, and themes to produce an image free of errors.

In other words, just like any artist, practice makes perfect, but without the artist’s guidance, the AI generator will continue to create unsatisfactory variables because it doesn’t know what to do on its own.

Some simply enter a prompt, generate an image, and then stop. These images are posted without scrutinizing consistency or coherency. Many of these images don’t even gain a name or title in the process and are not edited in any manner. Enter the term Photo Dumping. I agree with many that this form of ‘artistry’ leaves much to be desired.

As a Synthographer, I begin the process by imagining and visualizing the image I want. I also decide what tone I’m looking for, what message, if any, I’m promoting, and/or what story I’m trying to tell — just like any artist. I then utilize an AI generator — for my part, Midjourney — to create the image, utilizing the process mentioned above, which can take hours and sometimes days to achieve the result I’m striving for.

A synthographer takes an image from its initial stages and uses a multi-step process. This process involves using various digital and photo editing tools to add layers to the subject, create a specific mood and ambiance, enhance or reduce certain aspects, and make augmentations. Integrating external media, digital overlays, filtering, sculpting, and manipulation, the synthographer creates a final composite that evokes emotion, explores a theme, offers a unique perspective, and sparks the imagination.

Room for improvement

Many agree that the problem lies in the fact that AI companies use copyrighted images to train their algorithms without asking for consent or offering compensation to the artist. At the very least, the image should include source data and accreditation for the artists used in its generation. Metadata could be embedded within the digital file of the artwork, containing information about the artist(s)and any copyright or ownership details. This data can serve as identification without visually altering the artwork.

AI art generators should require permission from artists before utilizing their work in their algorithms. There could be some mode of compensation, even a few pennies per usage, that goes back to the artist instead of the AI generation company, which is raking in funds hand over fist. Midjourney alone generated 200 million in 2023.

Care must be taken now to establish equitable regulations for the use of AI to ensure the best outcomes for the future.

~Morgan~

If you’d like to keep up with everything I’m doing, sign up for my monthly newsletter by visiting my author website

If you’d like to see more of my artwork, please visit my DeviantArt page

 

Meet the Reviled Fey of the Uunglarda – #DarkFantasy #Characters

After many years of writing The Dark Fey trilogy, I’ve finally be able to bring the Reviled to life visually.  This Dark One’s name is Brahvys.  He’s seen many years as a Dark Fey and has learned to survive, but the anguish he carries is written on his every feature.About Dark FeyBecause the Reviled live in the dark realm of the Uunglarda, where all light, water, food, and the very air are tainted with pollutants, their bodies also mutate. Though the Fey of the Light have beautiful feathered wings, in the darkness, they transform into dragonhide with barbs and spines. Horns grow as a result of stress, and the eyes turn crimson. Most Reviled Fey have pale skin due to the lack of nutrients and sunlight. The Reviled, or by their own name, the Dlalth, are often scarred, maimed, or tattooed from years of abuse.All Fey are born with special abilities or gifts, such as telepathy, empathy, discernment, or the ability to dream walk. Many also have a gift of magic, though not all, such as spell-casting, enchantment, light bending, or element-wielding. While the Fey of the Light are beautiful and live harmoniously, the Reviled Fey are the opposite; they revere darkness and fill their lives with cruelty and evil, but all Reviled Fey begin their lives as Fey of the Light. The change comes only if they are abducted as childfey and forced to undergo the Integration, a process of intentional neglect and cruelty designed to twist them away from the Light.This level of horror is not incorporated into the Dark Fey Trilogy simply for the sake of it. One does not need to open the pages of a book to discover the unthinkable, as the darkness typically embodied in fantasy genre stories by some terrifying being or creature is very much alive in our own reality, and this is the underlying motivation for the darkness woven into Dark Fey. It was based in great part on the terrifying yet true-life events of the Lord’s Resistance Army or LRA, a rebel militant group in Uganda that has for over 20 years abducted children from their homes, forcing them to commit horrifying acts of violence against each other and their own people. These children suffer a very real Integration and, like the childfey of Jyndari, they endure violence and cruelty at the hands of truly sadistic overlords. This is how the Reviled came to life and became the horrifyingly cruel beings depicted in Dark Fey.This Legionnaire of the Realm or DemonFey is named Uvraqel-  Pronounced Ooo Vrrrah (trilled R) KelWhen the battalion of Demonfey ahead of them stopped, they stamped the ends of their spears into the ground or clapped their swords against shields as they voiced a growling, unified exclamation that echoed along the bleak way and sent shivers of fear through any who heard them.“Raah!”   These were the Legionnaires of the Realm; fiercely loyal to their Centurion and vicious of nature, not only in battle, but with any who crossed them.  Their uniforms were spattered by the mud of the road, but they were in good repair; made of finely worked leathers treated with oil to repel water, and their weapons were fashioned of exceptionally-wrought steel by skilled Dlalth hands in the forges of Vrasduuhl, the centermost and chief city of the Uunglarda. ….. A snippet from the Dark Fey Trilogy

This Legionnaire’s name is pronounced Brrr(trilled R) uhn dn, which is the Dlalth, mutilated form of the name Brendan.  He is pained in mind and body, but his fists hint at the defiant hope and determination he still carries.  He is one of The Watchers – a small group of Dlalth who have studied the ancient prophecies and know The One is coming.  Hope of liberation drives these Reviled.Dlalth who are not DemonFey are known as Legionnaires. They spend their lives malnourished, beaten, and forced to commit unspeakable acts of violence against the Fey of the Light or each other. Many Legionnaires live fewer than 35 years.This is a female Dark Fey.  You can tell not only by her softer appearance, but because all female Fey have the letter ‘Y’ in their names.  Her name is pronounced Ah-Ben-nin.  Notice the tatters in her wings, indicating the abuse they’ve seen.This is Brynvat.  One of the DemonFey, she has decorated her wings with metal barbs and ornaments.This is Hurch.
In the Dlalth language, most consonants are pronounced with a guttural or rasping sound. The diphthong CH is always pronounced as in the name Bach.  As a result, this Reviled’s name is more of a vulgar sound than a word, which is intentional and part of the Integration: a process of intentional neglect and cruelty designed to twist them away from the Light.

DemonFey are the elite fighting core of the Reviled Fey.  They are brutal and in peak physical condition. First to receive rations, clean water, and upgrades on armor, the DemonFey are like Special Forces in our own military.

All male Fey names contain the letter ‘R’, which is trilled when spoken.  Because all Reviled Fey begin their lives as Fey of the Light, their names follow these traditions, but are mutilated versions of their birth name.  Greschtavr is the Reviled form of Cristopher, and is pronounced Grrr ech tah vur.

Read a snippet from Dark Fey Find Dark Fey in your marketplace Writing and Art by ~Morgan~ 

If you’d like to keep up with everything I’m doing, sign up for my monthly newsletter by visiting my author website

If you’d like to see more of my artwork, please visit my DeviantArt page

The Wandering Series – Into the Void

I love to write. I love to create art. And I love to share the art of others. In this new ‘series’ I’ll be exploring worlds and creating flash fiction stories, illustrated by my art, your art, and their art. I’m calling it “The Wandering” for fairly simple terms, but I’m not the only one who will be wandering. I hope YOU will wander with me, even for just a moment…or three!Each Wandering piece will have a title and theme, something I’ll explore through words and images. I hope you’ll enjoy this series and, if you do, I’d love to invite you to collaborate with me on future stories! (comment below and we’ll digress into particulars)INTO THE VOIDSliding into the past by tumbling through the present utilizing a crossing created in the future, we skidded into yesterday in a chaotic whirlwind. Those standing around, staring at us like we were unholy demons from the under-realms, greeted us better than anticipated.No weapons came to hand, although some voiced their trepidations vociferously. Their shrill screams echoed through the void unraveling behind us, the sound of their voices shattering into myriad pieces. Retreating from the unearthly sound that was as much the sharp scree of a raptor as it was the haunting crescendo of an elk, our intrepid expedition into the unknown seemed mortal folly as the natives drew closer with multiple sets of hands extended.The landscape was bleak and foreboding, yet beautiful in its frozen pageantry. From our vantage point upon one of the rocky ramparts , the wintry ‘scape stretched toward the horizon that was consumed by slate-coloured clouds. In the distance, a majestic peak pressed upward into the atmosphere, its perilous heights lost behind the swirling gloom.by ishi99 Behind us upon the soaring slopes of the mountain a citadel stood braced against the leaden sky. Looking at it through the wavering remnants of the portal through which we had just punctured this realm, the spires, parapets and buttresses straining to touch the distant heavens were ghostly apparitions. From this murky fortification, similar otherworldly cries answered and a blade of terror serrated through us. Our fate seemed clear.by Blues-Design Darkness spiraled around us, leaching from the alien’s hands. At its icy touch, consciousness warped like the eddies of smoke from an extinguished candle and resisting it was as impossible as controlling the direction of the vortex, which had brought us to the edge of doom. The shifting currents of time and blackness consumed us and I no more remember falling than I recall being transported from that place. Oscillating between dreams and reality, hours twisted into minutes, and minutes into seconds. Several times, my eyes opened and mysterious, ethereal images permeated my questing gaze.

by darekzabrocki

 

…. To Be Continued…..

Writing and Art by ~Morgan~ unless otherwise specified.

If you’d like to keep up with everything I’m doing, sign up for my monthly newsletter by visiting my author website

If you’d like to see more of my artwork, please visit my DeviantArt page

 

House of Akryene – #FlashFiction Friday – #50wordstories

.

Hidden within the depths of the vast woodland of Calvornin, the House of Akryene stands as a proud sigil. Isolated from the rest of the island by the dense forest and surrounded by moat fathoms deep, Akryene is a reminder of all that once was and shall never be again..Writing and Art by ~Morgan~

If you’d like to keep up with everything I’m doing, sign up for my monthly newsletter by visiting my author website

If you’d like to see more of my artwork, please visit my DeviantArt page

Hidden – #Poetry for #SocialAwareness

This piece is NOT about hatred.

It is about the right to choose.

Tradition is beautiful and, if freely chosen, should be honored and respected. But many live in a world where they are seen as commodities, something to be owned but not respected. Something to be taken, used, or overlooked.

This piece is about the social and moral injustice done to each person when they are objectified. If we want to live in a harmonious world, we first must embody harmony.

.

If this piece has moved or touched you, I hope you will share it.
Thank You.

Poetry and Art by ~Morgan~

If you’d like to keep up with everything I’m doing, sign up for my monthly newsletter by visiting my author website

If you’d like to see more of my artwork, please visit my DeviantArt page

Summerfest – #Fantasy #BookTeaser

 

The vale for Summerfest was on the boundary of the village, set against the backdrop of Veryn Falls, a waterfall that plummeted steeply from the heights of the Ryvyn Mountains. Splashing from hundreds of feet above, Veryn Falls’ crystalline waters were cushioned by a multitude of moss covered bastions and ivy-laden arches, and the waters fell, ‘plashing and laughing, into an emeraldine pool that stretched out its bountiful hand at the base of the falls and flowed onward through the village, supplying water and life to all.

The broad clearing around its bejeweled precincts sparkled with hundreds of tiny lanterns strung through the surrounding forest canopy and was brightened by cheerful fires and glowing torches scattered throughout. Tables of food and fountains of drink were placed advantageously, musicians played the flute and the drum, the lyre and the lute, dancing lacewings flitted and darted, and the entire scene was alive with palpable joy and anticipation.

As the seasons shifted , the fey of the light gathered together for a celebration of color and brightness. They dressed in glittering, bejeweled costumes; decorated their homes with sparkling lanterns, filled their porches and gardens with fresh fruit, crisp garden vegetables, sweet baked treats and sugary indulgences for any passerby to enjoy, and played a multitude of musical instruments in a discordant symphony of jubilant sound.

Parading along the avenues from home to home in dancing, fluttering, gleeful revelry, fey of all ages delighted in the company of their friends and family while eating and drinking the sweet temptations of the season, and at the end of the evening’s festivities, all fey, young and old, joined together to venerate the arrival of the Season of Light.

They gathered in the Clearing of the Stars, where the forest canopy contracted and one could gaze up, out of the darkling hedge of ancient trees, into the glittering night sky, enchanted by the glowing moon and the sparkling stars overhead. Drawing together, they began the Incantation of the Changing Seasons led by their village Celebrant, their voices subdued and solemn after a full day of laughing and singing. As they spoke the lyrical invocation, they paced through an intricate dance, which marked the ending of the darkness and cold of winter and the beginning of the growing and gathering seasons, with austerity. Bowing, pausing, stepping, clapping, pausing, clasping hands, turning, releasing, passing, turning, pausing, spiraling, clapping and repeating until the midnight horns rang through the clear night air.

Life and Light were in their fullest glory on this fair night, dazzling the eye from the heavens overhead, spilling verdant green from the forest canopy, blossoming in sweet beauty and supplying bounty for every life. It was the last day of the Season of Plenty, the pinnacle of joyful abundance and Light loving fey everywhere rejoiced for the profusion.

Discover more here

Find my trilogy here

Writing and Art by ~Morgan~

If you’d like to keep up with everything I’m doing, sign up for my monthly newsletter by visiting my author website

If you’d like to see more of my artwork, please visit my DeviantArt page

ChrayvulGlyth – Dlalth Citdel – #DarkFantasy #WorldBuilding

World building is crucial in any fantasy worth it’s salt, and I’ve put a deal of effort into creating a dark and foreboding realm for the Dark Fey Trilogy.  Pronounced with a gutteral CH as in the composer’s name Bach.   Chray…Vool…Gleeth

This is a city in the Uunglarda, the Realm of the Reviled in my Dark Fantasy series, The Dark Fey Trilogy

A Snippet from Standing in Shadows-Book Two of the Dark Fey Trilogy

Darkness lay thick and unyielding like a heavy mantle that smothered from every direction at once. Pungent and prodding, the intense murk was sooty with the condensing smoke of a thousand fires, which was the only source of light permitted in the, otherwise, bleak city. As it curled in the streets and avenues, turning frequented ways into misleading paths that made even those most familiar with them turn about more than once to reorient themselves, layers of damp mist leached downward from the leaden sky. Out of the dimness that poured from the ashen buildings and sank from above, voices of discontent and misery echoed among the shadows. Unmistakable cries of torment serrated the dense atmosphere; yet, from those same environs, delirious laughter also careened into the brooding night. The opposing sounds confused the ear and twisted the heart with uncertainty and dread.

The city was rank with a foul odor that was sour and reeked of sulfur. It was the city’s chief source of kindling that burned in grates and braziers. Drawing close to these fires in order to escape the permeating cold and extract some meager warmth or to find any sense of direction also meant breathing in the malodorous stench that twisted the stomach until it could be born no longer and chased the one seeking momentary solace back into the shadows. There was little warmth in the darkness. An unshakable, seeking chill melted through clothes regardless of the protection of layers. In the ominous gloom, buildings seemed to press together to stay warm, their misaligned, shoddy workmanship betraying their untended state. Some leaned precariously, some were half fallen over in tatters, some were little more than a collapsed hovel and on every street raucous taverns and brothels tainted the air with lascivious noise and drunken abandon.

Through the curling shadows and dusky fog, a willowy, silent figure moved. Draped in an obscuring confusion of shadow that it seemed to carry along with it, the figure stole silently down the street. Muffled by the thick smog that twisted in the air, the form made no sound whatsoever, but drifted past the raucous taverns and foul brothels like a ghost brazenly wandering through the haze. None who passed this cloaked figure took notice of it. No heads turned as it paused at the corner beneath a spluttering lamp of burning, sulfurous, gas. Not a single bystander gazed in its direction as it moved silently down the narrow street towards the edge of town and when it turned the corner, disappearing into the blackness like a shadow melting into graying twilight, no trace of its passage was left behind.

Turning the darkened corner, the ebon shadow paused, the silhouette of its garments contracting as if the figure were doubling over and a muffled sound, like that of despair, slipped outward into the murk. Silence greeted this hushed cry, but as if in echo, a child’s wail pierced the heavy gloom. The keening sound was not close by, yet it pealed through the dismal atmosphere like the sharp clangor of a tolling bell and all who heard it shrank from the sound, stifling the evidence of such misery in whatever escape lay close at hand. The amber liquid contained within a bottle, the glittering secret injected directly into veins, or the fleeting, wanton embrace that left a deeper yearning than what it satisfied were momentary releases from the anguish of everyday life.

As the half seen figure stood motionless, the piteous sounds of the city gathered around it like moths drawn to an open flame demanding to be noticed in spite of the listener’s desire for deafness. Reality in the Uunglarda was caustic as acid and burned just as deeply and it compelled the figure to move hastily onward.

 

 

Discover more here

Find my trilogy here

Writing and Art by ~Morgan~

If you’d like to keep up with everything I’m doing, sign up for my monthly newsletter by visiting my author website

If you’d like to see more of my artwork, please visit my DeviantArt page