Fair Systems that Work Newsletter

Hey, Reader, this is going to be a bit punchy!
I am fired up!

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And I am not waiting till next Saturday for you to get this... so here it is...
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If you grew up around agriculture, raise your hand if AI meant something VERY different when you were a kid.

🙋‍♀️

I grew up on a dairy farm.

AI meant artificial insemination.

There were cows involved.

Nobody was asking ChatGPT to write a sponsorship letter.

And I can pretty much guarantee my grandparents never sat around the kitchen table discussing whether artificial intelligence was going to ruin social media.

Times have changed.

And apparently, so has AI.

But lately I've noticed something about the conversation around artificial intelligence that has less to do with the technology itself and more to do with how we're treating each other because of it.

And THAT is the part I want to talk about.

Because I use AI.

There. Scandal exposed.

I use it as one of many tools in my business.

Sometimes I use it to help organize information.

Sometimes I use it to work through an idea.

Sometimes I use it to create an image that represents a story I'm telling when I don't have a photograph of that particular moment.

And apparently, that last one can really piss people off.

I've been told that instead of using AI-generated imagery, I could hire a professional photographer.

They're absolutely right.

I could.

Professional photographers are incredibly talented people. So are graphic designers, writers, marketers, videographers and all the other people who have spent years learning their craft.

Their expertise has value.

This isn't an argument against any of them.

But here's where that conversation gets interesting for me.

Whose budget are we spending?

Because I work in the fair world.

And the organizations I work with don't all have the same resources.

Some fairs have significant operating budgets.

Some have marketing departments.

Some have professional photographers who capture incredible images throughout their fair.

Some have talented volunteers who happen to be brilliant with a camera.

And some have Brenda.

Brenda has an iPhone.

A Canva account.

Fourteen minutes.

And absolutely no idea where somebody saved the high-resolution version of the logo.

Also, Brenda is supposed to be at the livestock barn in six minutes because somebody hasn't shown up.

Welcome to fair marketing.

😂

That fair still has stories worth telling.

Here's where I think we've gotten ourselves tangled up.

There are legitimate conversations happening about AI.

Environmental impact.

Copyright.

Artists' work.

Employment.

Accuracy.

Authenticity.

Privacy.

What happens as this technology becomes more capable.

Those conversations matter.

I'm not here to settle them.

Good Lord, I'm not even volunteering for the committee.

You can be uncomfortable with AI.

You can choose not to use it.

You can question where it's headed.

You can absolutely prefer real photography.

None of that bothers me.

What does bother me is when a disagreement about a tool becomes permission to shame the person using it.

Those are two very different things.

Because access matters too.

Imagine a small agricultural society.

They don't have thousands of dollars for marketing.

They don't have a communications department.

They don't have a photographer following them around.

They may not even have one person responsible for marketing.

They have volunteers.

People squeezing fair work between jobs, families, farms, businesses, kids, livestock and everything else happening in their lives.

Now they have access to tools that can help them write.

Organize.

Brainstorm.

Create.

Explain.

Plan.

And yes, sometimes create an image when the image they need simply doesn't exist.

That doesn't automatically make what they create GOOD.

Dear God, no.

We've all seen the AI graphics where someone apparently has nine fingers, the lettering looks like ancient hieroglyphics and 47 unrelated objects have been crammed into one poster.

Mine included when I started.

😂

AI doesn't magically give someone an understanding of design.

Just like owning Canva didn't suddenly turn all of us into graphic designers.

And owning an iPhone didn't make us professional photographers.

The tool and the skill are not the same thing.

Which is why I'd much rather have a conversation about how to use these tools well.

Sometimes the real photograph wins. Hands down.

A kid walking out of the show ring grinning from ear to ear?

Use it.

Three generations standing beside the same exhibit?

Use it.

Volunteers laughing while they're setting up tables at 11 p.m.?

USE IT.

Those photographs carry something an artificially created image cannot.

They're real.

They're history.

They're your fair.

And they matter.

But sometimes I'm writing about a board member sitting in their truck after a difficult meeting.

A volunteer walking away from the gate because they've finally had enough.

Someone staring at three different versions of a volunteer schedule wondering which one is actually current.

A conversation between two people that represents something I've watched happen repeatedly over decades in the fair world.

Those are concepts.

Now picture what it would actually take for me to get the “real” photograph of those moments.

I'd need to wander around fairs with a professional photographer following behind me, camera ready, waiting for somebody's day to go sideways.

Board meeting just blew up?

Perfect. Follow that person to the parking lot. They look upset.

CLICK CLICK CLICK.

Volunteer at the gate has finally had enough and is walking away?

There it is! Get the camera!

CLICK CLICK CLICK.

Two board members having a tense conversation behind the livestock barn?

Fantastic. Can we get a little closer? I might need this for a post next month.

And that poor person staring at three versions of the volunteer schedule?

“Don't move! That look of complete frustration is EXACTLY what I need.”

CLICK.

😂

At that point, I'm not documenting the fair.

I'm a damn paparazzi.

I'd literally be hunting for people's most uncomfortable, frustrated and vulnerable moments because somewhere down the road, I might want a photograph to accompany a story.

And frankly, I don't want to do that.

Sometimes creating a visual representation of that moment is actually the more respectful choice.

Because I want you, the reader, to recognize the situation.

I don't need you to recognize the person.

That's an important distinction.

The stories and situations I talk about aren't about publicly exposing someone having a shitty day at the fair.

They're about helping us recognize patterns, situations and experiences that happen across fairs everywhere.

Sometimes I have the perfect real photograph.

Sometimes I can take one.

Sometimes stock photography works.

Sometimes I don't need an image at all.

And sometimes the visual I need simply doesn't exist because it represents an idea, an emotion or a collection of experiences rather than one photographable moment.

That's where another tool becomes useful.

Could I hire a professional photographer, find models, scout a location, recreate the situation and photograph it?

Sure.

I could also charter a helicopter to every fair in Canada.

Neither makes much sense for what I'm trying to accomplish.

😂

So sometimes I create the visual.

And I'm comfortable with that choice.

Here's the part I think matters most.

I don't believe lack of money gets to determine whether a small organization gets to communicate well.

That doesn't mean professional expertise isn't valuable.

It means not everybody has equal access to it.

And telling someone the only acceptable way to create something requires resources they don't have isn't particularly helpful.

I'd rather ask:

What are you trying to communicate?

Who are you trying to reach?

What resources do you have?

What tool makes sense here?

Where would investing in professional expertise make the biggest difference?

And where can technology help fill a gap?

That's a completely different conversation.

And frankly, it's the same conversation I have about systems.

The fanciest system isn't necessarily the best system.

The best system is the one that actually works for the people using it.

I've seen organizations purchase technology they never use.

I've seen beautifully designed processes nobody follows.

I've seen spreadsheets that would make NASA proud and absolutely terrify the volunteer who is expected to update them.

And I've seen a clipboard hanging on a nail that works perfectly.

The question isn't:

"Is this the fanciest way to do it?"

It's:

"Does this help us do what we're trying to do?"

I think the same thing applies here.

AI is a tool.

Photography is a tool.

Canva is a tool.

A spreadsheet is a tool.

A notebook is a tool.

A professional is a resource.

A knowledgeable volunteer is a resource.

And sometimes Brenda and her slightly cracked iPhone are the resources you've got.

Work with what you have.

Learn how to use it better.

And when you have the opportunity and resources to bring in expertise, know where that expertise will create the greatest value.

Maybe we could trade a little shame for curiosity.

Instead of:

"Why would you use AI for that?"

Maybe:

"What were you trying to accomplish?"

Instead of:

"That looks terrible."

Maybe:

"Want to see something that could make that clearer?"

Instead of:

"You need to hire a professional."

Maybe:

"Here's where I think professional help could make a huge difference."

One makes people defensive.

The other helps them get better.

And in the fair world, where so much of the work is being done by people who are already donating their time, I'd like to see a whole lot more of the second one.

We don't need volunteers afraid to try something because someone might publicly tell them they're doing it wrong.

We need people learning.

Experimenting.

Asking questions.

Sharing what works.

And occasionally producing something spectacularly ugly and trying again.

That's how most of us learned everything we know.

So no, I'm not here to convince you to use AI.

Use it.

Don't use it.

Question it.

Learn about it.

Hire the photographer.

Take the photo yourself.

Open Canva.

Grab the clipboard.

Choose the tool that makes sense for what you're trying to accomplish.

But maybe we can stop using our choice of tools as another way to decide who's doing things "properly."

Because fairs have been adapting to new technology for generations.

Although I will admit...

AI was considerably easier to explain when there was just a cow involved.

😂

I'm curious:

Is your fair already using AI somewhere?

Are you avoiding it completely?

Or are you somewhere in the middle thinking, "I know this thing can probably help us, but I have no bloody idea where to start?"

I'd genuinely love to know.

Because if enough of you are sitting in that last group, maybe that's a conversation worth having.

Let's Get to Work

Kryssie ❦

PS: Can I ask for your help? I’m looking for 50 people who help lead fairs and agricultural societies who would be willing to volunteer their brain for 30 minutes. (I'm halfway there :) )https://calendly.com/fairsystem.../borrowing-your-fair-brain​

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