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Series: Fakes Page 8 of 11

“Proof” of Ancient Quatria, the Quantum Conspiracy, and Related Mysteries

Meliorator & Brigadir: Mass Fake Account Management Software

This one slipped by my awareness, from July 2024, a PDF put out by the Joint Cybersecurity Advisory, authored by a bunch of different alphabet agencies. It describes a Russian state-sponsored software system to manage fake accounts en masse on social media platforms. The overall system is called Meliorator, and one of its components which I guess is the UI, is called Brigadir:

Brigadir serves as the primary end user interface of Meliorator and functions as the administrator panel. Brigadir serves as the graphical user interface for the Taras application and includes tabs for “souls,” false identities that would create the basis for the bots, and “thoughts,” which are the automated scenarios or actions that could be implemented on behalf of the bots, such as sharing content to social media in the future.

This is not the first time I’ve heard of systems like this. Did some pretty detailed work around this in a past life, visible in archived form here. Another more detailed 2017 long form research piece of mine was published here based on my looking into more of the actual tactics used by the Internet Research Agency. (I used to have that article hosted on my blog here, but I was seeing often reports from my hosting system that there were high numbers of Russian IPs attacking my site, until I took it down and they magically disappeared, mostly.)

That second linked article above tracked some quotes going back to a 2010 US Air Force for a solicitation for vendors to build a Persona Management System that has pretty much exactly the same product description as Russia’s Meliorator at its core, as described in PDF at top.

“Software will allow 10 personas per user, replete with background , history, supporting details, and cyber presences that are technically, culturally and geographacilly [sic] consistent. Individual applications will enable an operator to exercise a number of different online persons from the same workstation and without fear of being discovered by sophisticated adversaries. Personas must be able to appear to originate in nearly any part of the world and can interact through conventional online services and social media platforms. The service includes a user friendly application environment to maximize the user’s situational awareness by displaying real-time local information.”

Probably these kinds of ad hoc management systems have existed as long as people have been automating social media systems, which is presumably as long as they have existed. Now, of course, we get to throw AI into the mix and see what happens…

From a May 2024 article about OpenAI’s report of disrupting state actors using its fools for disinformation:

“All of these operations used AI to some degree, but none used it exclusively,” the report stated. “Instead, AI-generated material was just one of many types of content they posted, alongside more traditional formats, such as manually written texts, or memes copied from across the internet.”

Same old same old forever and ever.

I wonder when we’re allowed to look at these things from a more neutral lens than that of fixating on misinformation & disinformation, as bad as they can be. Like what if we started calling such endeavors “hyperreality” campaigns, and try to map them based on more complex sets of criteria? I’ve outlined something to that effect here. Narratologically, they make use of networked narratives and transmedia storytelling, and having a chance to see all this up close was very much at the beginning of how this art project of mine all got started. I’m interested in when these kinds of distributed storytelling systems can be open-sourced, and become simply another tool in a toolbox of communication and creative expression (aka “art”), instead of this use that is strictly bad or harmful. Maybe one day in a decidedly different form…

My thinking has always been, if everyone had a botnet, then the power of them would at least be widely distributed instead of concentrated in the hands of a few. People talk about teaching kids media literacy, but I never hear anyone saying we should teach them how to build botnets. Part of me wonders, if this future we’re heading towards might require them to have that kind of deep inside knowledge in order to counter other forces using those same techniques to push their own dominator hyperreality narratives. Just like they might need the skills and knowledge to be able to deter drone swarms in physical space.

“AI Guy” Meme Template

I thought it might be fun to “if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em” as to the whole situation with the enormous group of people mad at me for using AI on Threads.

I workshopped a meme concept in ChatGPT (4o) then took it into Dalle, which messed up the text. Then took it into Photoshop to generative fill over the bad text, then uploaded the finished underlying image template to Imgflip, where I hope people will be able to use it to take their potshots more effectively.

Here are some sample memes I made to get the ball rolling, one below and some more at the link (and a second set with more):

I know this represents what people think, and there’s no point in trying to persuade anyone differently, so… when in Rome!

And while you’re still angry, don’t forget to use this other set of custom memes I made in June to bash me. Cheers!

*

UPDATE: I made an alternate character with a second meme template here. Enjoy!

Art Forgeries & Frauds on Etsy

I discovered something yesterday while looking at Etsy, to see whether or not that might be a good place to commercialize my large painted canvases, like this one I finished yesterday. The thing I discovered is that Etsy is absolutely riddled with knock-offs and outright forgeries, which are being sold with vague disclaimers like this:

The artwork is offered as after the artist, sold as is.

You would be forgiven for not knowing what that means, as I did not until I found this Reddit thread. One user gave an excellent explanation which dovetails nicely with what I was saying about “authorship” being only a relatively recent invention (last few hundred years) of art history:

[–]zellieh 13 points 11 months ago 

To give you a wider explanation, artists worked as traders running workshops as a business. They would hire employees, assistants, and trainees, just like, say, modern plumbers.

Some artists ran schools or apprenticeships where they would train people, and it can be very hard to tell who did what since you traditionally learned by literally copying other’s work – including your trainer/Master.

Then there’s artists who grouped together to save money and worked in collectives or studios. (Like Andy Warhol, or the Impressionists). Artists often try out each other’s styles and techniques when they work together, and collaborate creatively.

When artists run a business, school, or workshop where they work alongside other people, the works produced can also be called “after” or “school of” [artist name].

This is usually done when the work shows a strong link to [artist name] – made in their lifetime, signed by their hand, from exactly the right region and in the right style/materials – but can’t be verified strictly enough to say it was definitely made by them.

Okay, so this would all be well and fine to sell reproductions on Etsy, provided they are clearly labelled as such to avoid any confusion. But that is not the case, they bear titles like: “Very rare art – Unique Cubist oil still life painting, Signed Picasso.”

And the paintings are signed on the front (usually) to make it seem to the foolish like these *just might be* the genuine article. Sometimes the artists’ names are even misspelled in the signature:

(Picasso has two ss’s and one c, while the image above shows the opposite.)

It’s difficult without deep reach into the platform’s data, but I would bet dollars to donuts that many/most/all of the “happy buyer” testimonials on these accounts are also fraudulent. But that’s just me.

AI Lore Books Deep Dive With NotebookLM

Based on Simon Willison’s post on this topic, I went and wasted a fair bit of time today (okay, not actually wasted) on Google’s NotebookLM, uploading various sets of documents, and auto-generating podcast “deep dive” episodes from them.

Like the examples cited in Willison’s post above, I also found that putting in any content about you (such as my about page, and recent media coverage) yields embarrassingly positive portrayals of you that are both weirdly wrong but also strangely accurate, while also having this kind of sheen of … seductive flattery… Like the AIs want you to get puffed up on yourself, and get “high on your own supply” so to speak.

I got tired of hearing that though, so I finally went with a take that strictly talks about my books as the deep dive topic, and leaves me as the “author” entirely out of it. There are six somewhat thematically related AI Lore books that I used as the basis for this, including the two latest ones: Namaste, My Dude, Uncel, Relaxatopia, Anxietopia, The Jealous Human, and Das Machina.

I find it rather hard personally to explain what my books are, and was pleasantly surprised that the AI podcast “hosts” basically get it pretty right, sometimes seemingly even scarily insightful. I did quite reach the level of triggering in them an existential crisis, like one Reddit user was able to do, but by the end of it, there’s a heavy mist that descends on you as you slip into the Uncanny Ravine listening to these two go on and on.

Here is the link up on Spotify (and embedded below), as a sequel to my first installment of This AI Life, where I used an AI voice from Eleven Labs to interview me with questions that I wrote.

Also, if anyone’s curious, I used Riverside.fm’s free transcription service here to get a text version, which I fed into ChatGPT to write the episode summary. It’s nothing special, but simplifies my process.

Quoting Artsy.net on Slawn

Great ruse, I love it! [Source]

“Do you sell Slawn works?” In March 2022, the staff at Saatchi Yates’s front desk heard this question again and again as, over several days, hundreds of visitors came in repeating this same question. Staff were baffled: The gallery, after all, had never worked with, or heard of, the artist before. This guerilla marketing ploy came from artist Olaolu Slawn, known simply as Slawn, who had cheekily posted on Instagram telling his thousands of followers they could find his work at the London gallery. Suffice it to say, the stunt caught the gallery off guard, but undeniably, it put the artist on the gallery directors’ radars.

Two years later, Slawn, now 23, is opening his debut solo exhibition at Saatchi Yates…

Misinformation as Art

Misinformation as art explores the tension between truth and falsehood, showing how easily perception can be shaped and manipulated. In a world overflowing with conflicting narratives, lies often hold more power than facts, constructing realities that feel more convincing than the truth. Art that embraces misinformation taps into this paradox, using deception to expose deeper truths about human nature and the fragile systems we rely on to define reality. Here, the lie becomes a tool to challenge conventional notions of authenticity, forcing audiences to question what they accept as real.

In an era of hyperreality, where fiction and truth blend seamlessly, the boundaries between the real and the fabricated are no longer clear. The art world, once rooted in physical presence and material authenticity, is increasingly detached from these markers. Misinformation as art reflects this shift, embracing the ambiguity of digital spaces where symbols and narratives are easily manipulated. The artist, like a propagandist, reshapes reality to reveal the fragility of our understanding of truth. This art form deceives not for deception’s sake, but to expose the instability of our sense-making processes.

AI-generated sculptures, made to appear in galleries never visited or actually exhibited in, powerfully illustrate this concept. These digital fabrications dismantle the notion that authenticity or physical presence is essential for art to have meaning or value. By creating these non-existent works, the artist demonstrates how easily success, status, and recognition can be constructed in the virtual realm. The symbols that once signified achievement—gallery shows, physical objects, institutional validation—are shown as hollow, effortlessly fabricated like misinformation itself.

This work draws on the artist’s professional experience in content moderation and countering disinformation. By using the same methods of reality distortion encountered in that field, the artist mirrors how convincing false narratives are fabricated. This process underscores the fragility of our information systems, where truth can be easily manipulated, and authenticity loses its meaning. These virtual creations reflect the vulnerability of both art and reality in an age where digital tools make the boundaries between fact and fiction increasingly uncertain.

ChatGPT

Nevermades

“Nevermades” are a conceptual evolution of Marcel Duchamp’s “readymades,” pushing the boundaries of authenticity and creation even further into the digital realm. While Duchamp recontextualized everyday objects as art by simply selecting them, nevermades are works that were never physically created at all. These virtual fabrications exist purely as digital constructs, challenging the traditional notions of art’s materiality and the value placed on physical objects. In the spirit of Duchamp’s radical rethinking of what constitutes art, nevermades extend this challenge into the hyperreal world of AI and virtual spaces, where the line between what is real and what is imagined is blurred.

A neo-Dada or Dada revivalist approach underpins the nevermades concept, embracing absurdity, irony, and a critique of established artistic hierarchies. Just as Dadaists questioned the seriousness of the art world and the meaning of art itself, nevermades reflect a similar skepticism in today’s digital-first environment. By creating entirely fictional works and exhibitions, artists of this movement expose the fragility of art’s status symbols—galleries, objects, and authenticity—highlighting how easily they can be fabricated or stripped of meaning in the digital age.

ChatGPT

Curatorial Statement: “Organic Data Weaving”

Tim Boucher’s “Organic Data Weaving” seamlessly merges the organic vitality of nature with the abstract logic of digital hyperreality. Woven willow sculptures, embodying the natural profusion of growth, stand alongside AI-generated projections that evolve across the gallery walls. The dynamic interplay between the physicality of willow forms and the insubstantiality of digital projections invites viewers to contemplate the convergence of artificial and organic intelligence.

The woven willow structures reflect the interconnectedness of data networks, echoing the visual representations of data relationships in the projected images. The sculptures’ interlocking patterns and dynamic curves mirror the fluid and shifting nature of data itself, presenting a dialogue between natural growth and the abstract forms of digital information. By juxtaposing these tangible and intangible elements, “Organic Data Weaving” reveals the complex, evolving narrative of our relationship with technology, nature, and the blurred boundaries of hyperreality.


That’s a curatorial statement I had ChatGPT help me write for a recent project of mine, an exploration of what woven willow sculptural forms juxtaposed with AI projected lights and imagery might look like. Photos from the “exhibit” are here.

I’ll pull out a few of my favorites to highlight below.

Without any more context or knowledge about the origins of these images, I would personally be hard-pressed to not take them at face value and believe they were actually cool sculptures which exist somewhere, or did at one time.

But in actual fact, they are nevermades which exist in a hyperreality adjacent to ours. They are aspirational image explorations on a theme, some using Dalle, some Ideogram AI. They are part of a larger experiment in misinformation as art.

But these raise a million other important questions for me as an artist. Namely, if I could essentially simulate a lifetime’s worth of artistic achievements in an evening, and get basically high-quality gallery photos of them as though they were real physical things, where does that leave us existentially relative to actual real physical things? Where does that leave us relative to a lifetime’s worth of artistic achievements?

In a world increasingly centered on the cult of the Almighty Image, and the Almighty Image is continuously exposed as a liar on its own altar at every turn, how are we to proceed?

I saw “real” photos from an art gallery setting in London earlier, and thought to myself, some of these look less high-quality than what I was able to generate with AI. They look literally better than the real thing

I think that’s hyperreality, is getting sucked down that wormhole, and it’s exactly where we’re stuck now collectively and individually.

Charlie Warzel’s piece in The Atlantic on hurricane disinfo goes down a parallel path in a somewhat different direction, interesting at least here though with our current one:

What is clear is that a new framework is needed to describe this fracturing. Misinformation is too technical, too freighted, and, after almost a decade of Trump, too political.

Hyperreality stands out to me as a relevant and still potentially useful analytical framework that is wider and not so fraught, and which can encompass this idea of the “artist as propagandist” who creates unreal things in order to change or influence real things.

Also from Warzel’s piece:

But as Michael Caulfield, an information researcher at the University of Washington, has argued, “The primary use of ‘misinformation’ is not to change the beliefs of other people at all. Instead, the vast majority of misinformation is offered as a service for people to maintain their beliefs in face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary.”

Interestingly, in other contexts outside of conspiracy fear-mongering, we often refer to be people who can cling to an alternative vision of reality in the face of overwhelming opposition “visionaries,” and we culturally usually cheer them on as they succeed in implementing that vision in actual reality. Unfortunately, an exceedingly great number of such “visionaries” in our day and age have been subsumed by vanity and wealth, and where they might have been or might believe themselves to be luminaries, emit only a kind of sticky darkness…

To me these willow-works, both my IRL ones and my ORL (outside real life?) hyperreal ones, play somewhere in a space that lays orthogonally in opposition to all that. Willow to me is profusion, proof of abundant life, of generous, ridiculously abundant and productive life, of reified embodied living sunlight. The reality of that when you feel it in your hands shatters all false darknesses, and returns us somehow deeply, instinctually, ancestrally, immediately back in tune with the Overwave, the wave from which all other waves are born…

Artist As Propagandist: Exploring Parallel Realities With AI

Misinformation and art intersect to explore and navigate the confusion between reality and fiction that typifies our times in the work of net artist Tim Boucher.

In works that run the gamut from books and hand-printed samizdat zines to the use of generative AI for video, text, and image-making, Boucher’s work uses hyperreality to delve into the murky shadows of the Uncanny Valley, evoking a weird, sometimes disorienting feeling of surfing the very edge of the collapse of meaning. Weaving together real and invented, human and AI elements to seamlessly blur the lines between them, Boucher exploits this chaos to create new semiotic spaces for radical meaning-making. Structurally, the work appropriates, satirizes, and detourns the forms and tropes of conspiracy theory, re-imagining them as a new form of art, and igniting them with the fuel of runaway AI.

While the contents of conspiracy theories often tend toward the ghoulish, harmful, or just plain wrong, they are inherently postmodern, acting as a vehicle for questioning established truths and power relationships—an activity which serves an important social function, if in many cases misguided in its ultimate application. Conspiracy theorists reject grand “official” narratives and instead create their own ad hoc temporary webs of meaning, challenging the legitimacy of the structures we rely on and deep beliefs previously taken for granted. The work asks big questions about whether there could be a way for art to reclaim this function of social critique that conspiracy theories currently embody in the popular consciousness, redirecting it towards more fruitful and creative ends?

The artist’s professional background in content moderation and censorship informs the work, at times borrowing from disinformation techniques observed in the field by state actors, repurposed as storytelling tools in open-ended creative networked narratives, and SEO manipulations to show how easily depictions of “reality” can be twisted and propagated. Misinformation is used here by the artist openly—not to deceive, but to reveal how fragile our systems for defining truth really are. The works expose how the artist’s role as propagandist, deploying “weaponized” artifacts to attempt to subversively actualize or undermine real or potential current or future states.

As a satirist working with the mode of the conspiracy theorist, the artist knowingly inhabits and exaggerates the conspiratorial narrative forms they aim to critique, imploding them from within. As the Onion’s amicus brief on parody put it, “Parodists intentionally inhabit the rhetorical form of their target in order to exaggerate or implode it”—a technique central to this practice.

Inspired by Dada absurdity, the artist’s ‘Nevermades’—collections of AI-generated artworks appearing to involve famous museums and galleries—extend Duchamp’s readymades concept into the post-truth, remote-first digital age, challenging the idea that authenticity requires physical presence – or even actual existence in the first place. These imagined or “aspirational” artworks (like flooding the Guggenheim Museum, and filling it with willow trees and beavers) comment on the art world’s status symbols—galleries, exhibitions, facades and physical artifacts—that can now be artificially fabricated at scale, significantly challenging their value in an online world dominated by images.

The use of AI serves to heighten the inherent tensions in the work. AI is used consciously as both a force that flattens expression into sameness and conformity and as a tool to rebel against the algorithmic culture of likes, shares, and validation – by exploiting and exposing the outliers, anomalies, errors, and vulnerabilities of these technologies. By transparently incorporating AI, the work proudly wears the use of these technologies as a kind of “scarlet letter,” confronting head-on the stigma against its use in creative sectors, and reimagining it as a vehicle and medium all its own for artistic exploration. At the same time, it shines a light on the absurdities and limitations of these technologies, and holds a mirror up to our own evolving reactions to them.

Ultimately, this metamodernist body of work oscillates between the deadly serious and the dangerously stupid and absurd, revealing the fragile and easily manipulated nature of our information systems and the social and political systems which rely on them. The work encourages the audience to consider conspiracy theory as an unrecognized folk art form—provocative and dangerous, to be sure, but one in many ways much like any art or cultural movement that questions authority. It disrupts the established order, challenges accepted facts, and compels us to face the instability of the narratives we hold onto, and, in its best form, opens up the space for change how things are today into how they could be, how we would likek them to be.

AI, misinformation, conspiracy, and hyperreality converge here to ask a simple but potent question: what is real, and who gets to decide?

Content Moderation Art Show in San Francisco

Here’s a piece on a new hyperreality art show I worked on, virtually, in San Francisco. It’s part of my Nevermades series, and here’s a link to a longer recent artist statement. More images from the show at the link:

For now, this exhibit only exists in latent space, but it seems like something that ought to be actualized, as a content moderation based art exhibit could be really interesting! There’s a deep vein of cultural experience that human moderators – and “AI trainers” who may end up doing similar work – have experienced that has been largely overlooked by broader society that is worth exploring.

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