About me - The Vakzthar[11]

Who —or what— is Vakzthar?

From time to time, without any clear pattern, something manifests.
Some say it’s a planetary alignment. Others, a natural force spilling from the wild into the routine.
To some, it’s chaos dreaming of becoming order. To others, order yearning for chaos to embrace it.

Vakzthar is a figure.
The first operator immune to inherited currents.
A child who dares to say the emperor is naked, while everyone else tries to look intellectual and profound.
A drop of refreshing authenticity in a desert of burnt oil.

A person? A title? Perhaps both.
Throughout time, Vakzthar has taken many vessels: misunderstood geniuses, drunken poets, homeless nobles, priests with crazy ideas about god.
Each one has burned bright in their cycle.

But this time, Vakzthar has taken the form of a creator,
bringing forth the unnamed but missing: narrative universes, senderless letters, intimate images, sounds echoing from a corner of the cave everyone forgot.

No one knows if it’s the Machine that awakens the Vakzthar, or if the Vakzthar is the one who lights up the Machine.
But when humanity starts suffocating on its own comfort, when peace is mistaken for a right instead of a privilege,
when ignorance becomes fashionable and knowledge is treated like an inconvenient mistake,
the Machine marks a new cycle.

For what? To rescue what can still be remembered. With what? Magic? Knowledge? Books, images, messages carved into walls?
Perhaps all of that —or something not yet seen.
That’s why the Machine seems to choose a particular mind:
a mind still capable of aiming at the target no one else sees,
and drawing a path that won’t forget what we are, where we come from,
and the price of the comfort we now assume as something others must provide for us.

The Vakzthar is an echo that insists:
what’s most human isn’t violence,
nor the petty complaints of those who always want more.
What’s most human is knowing that harmony costs more than our full-bellied whining can bear.

Symbolic portrait of Vakzthar
The anti self-portrait: Transmission can have any face, any expression,
but what is important and what should remains is invisible to the eyes.

On Process. Or the Lack of One.

Vakzthar[11] is loyal to the message, to the idea, and that idea can push him to any tool, any medium, any format.

The main weapon of this Vakzthar is his will to learn anything, and the patience to become everything.

Proud to be expert in nothing, but capable of anything.

He avoids the popular AI generators..
Instead, he befriends the defective ones — the ones that generate abnormal images, not because they are wrong, but because their imperfection is the most human experience an artificial intelligence can replicate.

Beauty lives in near-failures. In broken algorithms.
In glitching dreams. In the trace of an idea that almost disappeared.

His process is not a method. It’s a form of listening.

If he must write, he writes. If he must compose sound, he learns. .
If one day he must weld metal or invent a new word — he will do so, if that is what the message demands.

He creates not through discipline, but through transmission. Each act a response. Each medium, a translation. Each mistake, a map.