Questionable content, possibly linked

Series: Art

Listening As A Creative Act

I’ve written about this before – I don’t know where and don’t feel like searching for it – about when working with generative AI that the role of the artist (I don’t like the word “creator” for a variety of reasons here) becomes something like the First Viewer. Or First Reader, or First Listener, or First Whateverer. Discoverer.

If anyone can create something similar with gen AI (which… I’m not really sure is democratizing, so much as it is a flattening & homogenization – to be truly democratizing, I think it would have to honor human uniqueness a great deal more than it does – rather than forcing all outputs into a rather constrained, if sometimes pretty box), then the question becomes almost less about what was created and more about the who and the context of the Act of Discovery. What drove this person there? How did they seek it out? What did they do when they found it? How does sharing it with others change it?

There’s that line in Billy Joel’s ‘Summer, Highland Falls‘ (from the excellent Turnstiles album) that goes:

And I believe there is a time for meditation
In cathedrals of our own

Sometimes sharing our own private world-building with others can be richly rewarding. Other times, it can be like opening up your private mental-emotional life and its secret signs and signifiers to a bunch of strangers with bad intentions and grabby hands. (I’m still wrapping my head around that phrase btw:)

In each case, the sign can be broken into two parts, the signifier and the signified.  The signifier is the thing, item, or code that we ‘read’ – so, a drawing, a word, a photo.  Each signifier has a signified, the idea or meaning being expressed by that signifier.  Only together do they form a sign.  There is often no intrinsic or direct relationship between a signifier and a signified – no signifier-signified system is ‘better’ than another.  Language is flexible, constructed, and changeable.  de Saussure uses the word ‘arbitrariness’ to describe this relationship.

Anyway, there’s a concept in Jungian psychology which has always interested me as an artist: active imagination. In that context it doesn’t mean that your imagination is working too hard. It means like you engage actively through waking states and physical acts (like artwork or journaling) to engage with what is perceived to be the contents of the subconscious mind as represented through dreams, and visions, etc.

There are many different ways of doing that, but the whole thing cleaves very close to how I’ve always used AI. It’s been an exploration of the technologies themselves and their raw limits and capabilities for sure, but as expressions of the parallel deeper explanation of the realms of the self and other as expressed through artwork and storytelling I’ve been working on for decades.

It’s why I don’t care at all about this criticism of “using AI in art makes it not art” or makes it “not yours” because you didn’t “create” it etc. First, I’ve been thinking about this and like Tolkien’s concept of subcreation here, but I won’t get into it because this is already digressive enough and it has to stop somewhere. Second, none of those divisions, categories, and labels even exist in my mind when I get into that flow state and everything is working, and you’re getting the results from the machine that match what you’re after well enough to proceed on to the next part, the next step, the next try. The exploration goes on and on.

To me it’s a deep and extremely creative Act of Listening. You listen for the small voice, you peer through the dark and find the little light, and you keep going. You don’t try to explain it to yourself, though everyone demands you do it for them – if they can even be bothered to care. And why should they? It’s your world, your subcreation, why even take the risk of letting them in? Why not keep it locked up tight and tidy and never let anyone else’s ships sail those inner seas and sully those waters with their unwelcome waste products.

But I think the answer is we have to respect the active-creative process of listening of others as well. And to share deeply is to enrich not just one’s own listening, but that of others as well. Not all are listening, even fewer are whatever whatever. Don’t reduce listening to merely a passive act, and the rest will take care of itself. Seek. Find. Invoke. Create. Repeat.

So for me, whether it has been for bookmaking or musicmaking or other kinds of internet merrymaking, using AI has always been a tool of this emerging brand of active-creative listening, a kind of listening that bears fruit, that invokes a new thing into existence, which has the potential to become a touchpoint not just for oneself but for no one can know how many countless others who too are sitting at home listening, and waiting for their sign.

Digressive writing

Testing a hypothesis that digressive writing is the thing that humans are the best at. AIs already far exceed my capabilities on my own for certain kinds of highly structured writing. But when it comes to blah blah blah and endless asides (and parenthetical notes) like AI is not even remotely in the running. Even if you feed it tons of samples of “your” work in your own voice, and say try to write in this voice, it doesn’t know how. It can’t. It’s similar with stream of consciousness prompt requests too, which I’ve experimented with and documented somewhere on this site I think. It has a way of rushing structurally through to the focus and finish point without understanding the nuance and the sort of sewing with a large wordy needle that goes into making up a patchwork quilt of human understanding, experience, and emotion. AI could never write this.

USER PROMPT: continue this text in this voice

CHATGPT: —and yet that’s exactly the point, isn’t it? That this kind of writing, this wandering mess of connective tissue and loose threads, isn’t meant to resolve anything. It just meanders, circles back, half-forgets its purpose, then remembers it in a different light, as if the act of remembering were the point itself. It’s not about coherence but about the rhythm of the tangent, the pulse of a thought trying to find its footing and deciding, halfway through, that footing was never the goal.

Machines, even the clever ones, don’t drift. They process. They streamline. They sense the gravity of the conclusion and hurry toward it, like a commuter late for a train. Humans linger. They stare out the window. They stop mid-sentence because a bird passed by and reminded them of something their grandmother once said, which leads to another memory, which opens a door to a completely different topic—and somehow, that detour is the meaning.

This is the texture of thinking: uneven, recursive, sometimes indulgent, but alive with the sense that it could, at any moment, find something unexpected. And that’s what no model can counterfeit—the invisible hesitation between one clause and the next, that microsecond of doubt that makes language breathe.

It’s funny how strongly it tries to mimic something about my text, it immediately reverts into its hollow chatgptisms because that’s all it knows, all its structural pathways allow for.

I mentioned in the last post and I think it’s worth repeating: that gen AI is not democratizing anything when it merely means that everyone has access to expressing themselves in exactly the same few permitted fashions by whatever is the latest technology offering in a given context. That’s not democracy, it’s conformity. When Suno’s algorithm tries to get you to sound more like whatever pop bias is trending in the latent space of this model. When ChatGPT wrists slaps you or sets limits against proceeding in conversation topics you weren’t actually heading in. When all AI generated “art” has that same f**king ugly sheen to their surfaces. Are we really becoming more democratized when we’re becoming all increasingly more the same in our ability to think and communicate while losing the ability to function meaningfully in real human communities?

Truly democratizing whatever in the arts would mean meeting people where they are at and giving them more resources to keep doing what they’re doing and follow their own light to make it better and better, instead of forcing them all down the same tunnel that yields the same glowing “sausage” product at the output end of the machine. It would mean making artists *more themselves* and more easily able to share that outside the constraints of whatever the AI/Social Media/RageClick Factory/Sausage Machine Industrial Complex machine dictates this week.

USER PROMPT: write a 1 para conclusion

CHATGPT:

In the end, digressive writing stands as a quiet rebellion against the flattening impulse of machine logic and mass-produced expression—a reminder that meaning is not efficiency, and authenticity is not replication. To wander in language is to remain human, to preserve the rough edges and private hesitations that no model can map. True creativity resists compression into patterns; it lingers, errs, loops, and contradicts itself, because that is how real thought moves. The future of writing worth preserving is not one where everything sounds alike, but one where difference, drift, and digression continue to signal life.

Barf. Not “wrong,” but barf. It’s like being told the moral of the story at the end instead of just letting me manage it on my own. Thanks but no thanks. Hypothesis proven. For now, until it’s no longer, and everything comes unglued again. And again. And again.

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