I started this fish carving when I was 14, so some 31 years ago now. At the time, I lacked proper carving tools, so I wasn’t able to get too much dimension out of it… I should have taken a photo of it before I started the recent updates, but I didn’t. Here’s an in-progress shot of it today after going in with a Kutzall flame burr on my new Dremel tool, followed by a sanding barrel and carving knife. I have some other bits I will try out for more definition on it tomorrow, and then will probably just finish with some linseed oil as a sealer.
I also built a simple downdraft table for sanding, etc. which my shop vac plugs into to keep things clean(ish) during this process.
I’m excited to be able to get this level of detail, and imagine over time my technique will get a lot better. It will also be awesome to be able to combine more artistic carving with my wood robot & automata mechanisms. Stay tuned…
Mysterious Plasmoids is the 124th installment in the AI Lore Books series. It is the first book I’ve done in the “Mysterious…” series in quite some time, and is another ‘ripped from the headlines’ hot take on what is happening with the drone/orb situation that is supposedly happening globally (I’ve not seen any anomalies first hand, myself). It also continues in another thematic subset of my books that relate to various aspects of UAP/UFO phenomena. This one heavily references other books in that cluster, if non-linearly.
There’s a vivid dream description of mine which fellow blogger Ran Prieur documented way back in 2005 here. In it I dreamt of a hyper-nationalist/fascist future US where police sirens played the song “America, the Beautiful,” and aliens had invaded in the United States… Excerpt below:
New York City had been divided into northern and southern zones, via a gigantic wall and forcefield. The southern half still had people living and working in it. But the northern half was completely off-limits. The official story was that aliens (space, not illegal) had taken over the northern half of the city, and the rest of the United States northward.
We knew, however, that this officially story was largely a fabrication. But that was all we knew. We had to roam about the lower half of the city, trying to find a passage to the north. And we had to do so without arousing any suspicions, which was an extremely difficult task. No one in the city would answer questions or help us.
And the police presence was total. You had to keep moving at all times. Any group of people who were stopping to talk or otherwise congregate was quickly spotted and broken up by patrolling police. […]
The police also had flying discs which they sent out after you. They were autonomous electronic devices which hovered and would track you as you ran. Once they were within range, they would fire an electric bolt at you to incapacitate you until officers arrived. The discs were called “temperplexes,” and they were all apparently controlled by larger motherships which flew higher and basically looked like UFO’s.
I actually continued that dream and spun out more variations using AI and published it in an earlier volume called, The First Days of Panic. That book, however, takes it visually in a much more fascist police drone direction (which, hell, I wouldn’t rule out just yet), whereas this book more explores the notion of plasmoids as heretofore unrecognized forms of life, which have interacted with us in myriad ways throughout history and prehistory: something more like John Keel’s ultraterrestrials. Are we living in the timeline now of that dream? Maybe?
Whatever the true nature of the “real” drones/orbs/plasmoids/UFO/UAP stuff that is or isn’t going on in our skies is, I think, a little besides the point; the point is the search itself. The point is the looking, and trying to understand all possibilities, and fit the best bets that seem to match evidence from reality itself.
Or, you know, in this case, hyperreality. Images in this one were mostly made with Ideogram and Recraft, with some dabbling in Grok’s image gen, and screegrabs from Sora videos, plus some remove tool in Adobe Lightroom. Text is majority ChatGPT with many human edits and improvements, told in alternating chapters between “first person” accounts, and quasi scholarly essays. Art preview below:
I might experiment in a subsequent volume with trying to embed animated gifs or even short videos from Sora if I can get the technology working adequately to share them. Ebooks don’t seem well-suited to that kind of thing, due to file sizes, though. So we will see what’s actually still feasible.
I’ve been experimenting with the new-ish Photoshop Remove tool. And no, I didn’t completely quit Adobe like I hoped/promised, but I did deeply downgrade from the all apps pla to the Photography 20GB plan, and bought the Affinity suite of 3 apps at half price on Black Friday in order to fill in any other potential gaps of functionality as I work on other projects.
For this I selected most of the original painting in the middle with the Remove tool, waited a few seconds and it spit that out, which I actually think is a very interesting piece in its own right, but also when paired like this with the original source material, to explore these sort of parallel latent versions of a given work, or even a historical moment. Reality isn’t going to be the same anymore.
Here’s a historical riff, removing the flag and pole from the famous Iwo Jima photo:
Outside comic or ironic uses though, the possibilities here get quite dark quite quickly. Consider this flung together xample from the famous Tianamen Square standoff moment – Tankman? What Tankman?
Similarly dark, but in a different direction: shooter, what shooter?
At the same time, I could see this tool and its deep hyperreality effects as being a potent tool for iconoclastic political critique in a world gone completely mad… Don’t like current political situation? Here’s a filter you can use to live in a parallel reality where that person/party/place/thing never even reaches your digital eyes or ears…
Plus, I think it would be pointless to try to regulate this. Where would you even start? To ask for that would be to invite tech companies to implement ever greater filtering and restrictions, and put more and more content decisions into the hands of AIs tied to corporate profit-engines. I mean, that’s going to happen anyway, but at least let’s not go begging for it. At least not until we’ve had a chance to kick the tires a bit before it gets nerfed.
Biobots is the latest name I have come up with to house the art explorations I am doing around building IRL drawing machines of the low tech and human (or nature) powered variety.
The first one I did used a little motor and battery. The second was a pulley system rigged up to control a gondola with a marker taped onto it to be able to drawing lines on the wall. It worked, but imprecisely. This is my third iteration, tentatively titled “Gondolier” since that word describes the human oar-bearer who directs the flow of action on the river.
Apologies for the shitty photos, but I have a small studio space:
So the device functions by the user standing in the middle, and rotating the wood dials clockwise or counter-clockwise. The dials are glued to toothed timing pulleys, which engage with a mating toothed timing belt. So as each dial turns independently or manually synchronized, it causes the gondola to move around (itself weighted with batteries), and an acrylic paint marker is duct-taped to the bottom.
Here is the close up of the v2 version of the dial-pulley mechanisms:
Wood dowels are 8mm, as are the bores of the timing pulleys, so they had to be filed down and sanded out a little to allow for free spinning. There was a failed earlier prototype of this I won’t go into, but suffice it to say having good quality dials securely connected to the pulleys is essential to having this be a fun and fluid experience to use.
An early stage of the initial test:
While I think the motorized and electronic controlled wall plotter stuff is interesting, I’ve learned something about myself, that I don’t enjoy tinkering with coding stuff (Arduino, etc) more than absolute minimum, but I love tinkering with physical stuff.
So my theory behind all this is, why not take things that are commonly robotic, and sort of rip out the robot part, and replace it with a human processor, a human being? In effect, a biobot?
Turns out, of course, like everything, that “biobot” is a term already in common use, but it’s meaning is incredible, and strangely complementary thematically to the ideaspace I am trying to explore with this series. I blogged about them previously as xenobots & anthrobots, but biobots also speak to this “third state” that is supposedly emergent for some kinds of cells in some conditions after the death of the host organism. Popular Mechanics quote:
Unlike some cells such as tumors or organoids that continually divide after death, these xenobots took on new behaviors beyond their biological roles. Studies have also found this ability in human lung cells, creating anthrobots capable of self-assembling and moving around.
I think this makes “biobiots” an acceptable area of overlap thematically with the project I’m undertaking (Freudian slip), in that it speaks to breaking the duality between accepted positions of “life” versus “death” or “good” versus “bad” or “human” versus “technology,” and moving beyond all that to a third state where new behaviors and ways of being become possible, self-assembling, and autonomously moving around and having this new kind of life which serves purposes we’re only just beginning to understand.
This was an important solution, a hole drilled through the dowels once they were mounted on the wall to prevent the dial-pulley assembling from traveling off the dowel. Then a nail slotted in holds it in place:
It might not be evident in these pictures (or in person) what’s going on with the plastic bags, but they contain dead batteries as weights, where it actually ended up being easy to find three sets of approximately the same weight batteries to put into each bag as resistance and into the gondola itself.
In future versions, I will cuteify those into some other form (maybe small vertical willow baskets?), but for this solidly working prototype, it’s “good enough.”
Here’s the first finished painting in this series, all done entirely using the Gondolier drawing device and paint markers taped to the bottom.
I’m really excited about the level of control I could get out of it after some initial experimentation and learning. I haven’t processed my videos yet, but the motion is very smooth and satisfying to use. It could probably be “better” somehow but there’s a lot of experimenting left to do here to know in which specific directions to take it next to find its best form. It’s wonderful and raw feeling right now though just like this in person. A video won’t express that anyway.
The only current drawback is that the dials are mounted fairly high up, above shoulder level, and somewhat far apart. I’m still adjusting as to what is actually the maximum usable drawing space, and the relative dimensions of the arrangement, this is just what presented itself in the moment. After a few hours of playing with it though, it’s absolutely tiring to use with your arms up in the air for a long time. In shorter stints (an hour or 2 maybe) it is highly usable and enjoyable.
I found my next project last night in the biobots series, a combination of these two, a syringe-driven hydraulic robotic arm, but as a SCARA arm capable of drawing on a table. So the control system from the first video used to replace the electronics and motor in the second:
I also happened to finally fall down the Theo Jansen Strandbeest rabbit hole last night while investigating mechanical linkages, and this video interview of him is the best one I’ve seen so far. The Strandbeests totally seem to be “biobots” to me, as they have behaviors of their own, powered by natural forces (wind) and responding to different kinds of stimulus, like walking into the ocean, or bumping into something with its feeler. Incredible:
The only thing I don’t like about these is they are made of plastic, but having seen his method for assembling them using heat to form custom joints, I can see why it is desirable for his application. I’m left wondering though, what kinds of biobots could be made out of locally-grown willow branches?
The last bit that has been on my mind here is thinking about “robots” that might pass through the legendary Butlerian Jihad of the Dune universe, where all thinking machines were destroyed and outlawed, to be replaced by human calculators, mentats, etc. And how these biobotic “robots” I’m exploring seem like they could pass by without arousing the ire of the Butlerian Jihad authorities… plus, these kinds of devices would survive an EMP blast, since they have no electronics at all.
Interestingly, as I was writing this, I asked ChatGPT for the relevant quotes from Dune’s Orange Catholic Bible, which I believe to be canonically is:
“Thou shalt not make a machine in the likeness of a human mind.”
However, ChatGPT then came up with its own plausible other quote:
“Man’s flesh is his own; the maker has given it form, and man’s spirit is free.”
Totally non-canonical, but fits the style and themes to some degree. As I understand it, Herbert didn’t leave us the complete text of the Orange Catholic Bible, so… you never know! Also this neatly illustrates why we might not actually want to over-rely on thinking machines either…
This one is basically wheels screwed to a platform, with markers duct-taped onto the side pointing down. Here’s a video of it in operation.
You put it on the floor and move it around somehow. Your foot, your hand, a stick, attaching to your dog’s leash? You decide.
Other people make high tech robots that can draw for them with a bunch of software and electronics.
I am experimenting with doing analog low tech human-powered robots instead. You can see some of my other experiments here. This is pretty new, so I’m trying to cover a sort of like “base layer” of low hanging fruit or what have you here, as I get up to speed on some of the more mechanical knowledge for more complex machines.
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?
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…
This one has been on the docket for a while, but I haven’t had a chance to post it. First, I had to figure out who the hell Ai Weiwei is. Apparently he is a big deal:
A lot of the artwork actually does look pretty interesting, which makes me look at this quote I have been sitting on with new eyes. It’s from this Guardian article:
Ai Weiwei said: “I’m sure if Picasso or Matisse were still alive they will quit their job. It’d be just impossible for them to still think [the same way].”
He is talking about the automatism (automaticism?) of easily reproduced images, set up in the preceding quote as his reaction to being asked about the issues around copyrighted works being used to train AI:
“That’s not a problem. I think that kind of art should [have died] a long time ago,” before he criticised art teaching that focuses on creating “realistic” images. “It takes AI a second to do it. So that only means what they have learned very often is meaningless.”
I’m still learning about his art, but I think I can see where he is coming from, even if I don’t agree with all of the assertions. It seems like his art is very rooted in the physicality of objects, artifacts actual places, the processes that got us there. It’s very true that this type of art is not within the reach or realm of the possible for generative AI right now. Eventually it will be. And I think that his point is that artists are chasing that edge beyond the edge. Artists are by nature nomadic in that respect, going to the next fertile place, and the next. Where they pioneer AI will inevitably follow.
I’ve been thinking more of AI lately as collective intelligence rather than “artificial.” I think we have not got a good collective understanding of what artificial even means in the first place. Instead, I think of AI more as collective intelligence, programmatically reified. It is, essentially, humans looking at humans looking at humans looking at humans.
There is actually an Ai Weiwei piece that is I think a marble carving of a surveillance camera. (Here’s some commentary on that, I haven’t gone deeply into it and am doing research on the fly.) Whatever his point in that piece was, my point feels like… we’ve spent the last decades surrounding ourselves with these digital eyes, watching, looking, recording, streaming, tweeting. Of course now, all those watching eyes have learned how we are, what we want. And they’re doing more than just watching: they’re talking back. They’re directing. They’re molding.
I almost forgot to respond to the original quote, at least more directly than the above rambling. I agree that if Matisse and Picasso had generative AI at their disposal, they would have had to rethink their approach to image making. But that’s what it forces every artist to do.
Generative AI is like a machine gun that shoots images.
Here’s that as an image in Ideogram AI:
Like he said, it takes AI a second to do it. I didn’t even have to pay for it on the free plan. Does that make it meaningless? Both yes and no at the same time. The sheer fact that *is* meaningless on the one hand is what gives it meaning on the other. But the act of writing & reading become married when working with generative AI: to look and explore is to create, to leave a trail.
The truth is we’re a culture (mega-culture?), a planet, awash in meaningless images. Constantly swimming in a sea of information trash. It’s why I block images by default in my web browsing, unless there’s a specific exception when I need or want them.
I don’t like being always shot at with image guns either (des armes iconographiques)- especially ones whose quality, source, ownership, agenda, etc. are opaque and outside my agency. But you cannot sit here and tell me that if Picasso had access to generative AI, he would not have stayed up all night going nuts with it? I’m absolutely sure he would have.
I saw a quote recently that said he made upwards of 20,000 artworks over the course of his life. Then, looking for confirmation, I found other sources suggesting more like 50,000. Then another estimate that pushed it upwards to like 147,000. I believe it, but who knows. But no way he wouldn’t have used gen AI, and of course absolutely it would have made him re-orient himself to his art and thinking about everything. It’s obviously what he did throughout his career, continually changing, reacting.
Incidentally, check out this absolutely insane 1949 Life magazine photo series of Picasso painting with light. It is literally the most futuristic looking shit I have ever seen – full on 75 years later. Incredible. I’m just saying, dude would have devoured and destroyed generative AI.
The most famous visual artist of the 20th century, Picasso was also the most photographed. Thanks to the camera, his striking features became iconic, recognized the world over. Yet this phenomenon was not a mere by-product of celebrity; his own photographic practice set the precedent. Picasso engaged with photography and photographers in myriad ways, starting from his early days in Paris and continuing through the last years of his life. He used the camera to capture life in the studio and at home, to try out new ideas, to study his works and document their creation, and to shape his own image as an artist at work.
Later in that original Guardian article I quoted at top, they get into more of Ai Weiwei’s concerns around AI, which I frankly agree with, and much of the AI Lore books series is centered around thematically.
But he did signal a warning about the future if artificial intelligence becomes too powerful and relied upon by countries around the world.
He is fearful AI could create a society similar to the Third Reich, where there is only one “right” answer to the big questions. “For me it is very much like what happened in the 1930s in Germany, or 1960s in China with the Cultural Revolution,” he said. “You all have one ideology, one past, and the one so-called ‘correctness’. This is dangerous.”
But he is highly sceptical about artificial intelligence and where it might be leading us: “What you get is all the mediocre ideas mixed into something like a fusion, where there is no character and you avoid all mistakes. That is really dangerous to humanity, because we are all equal but we are all created differently. The difference is the beauty. Art, literature, poetry design – they are rooted in human mistakes, misjudgments, or character differences if you prefer. They should be dangerous and sexy and unpredictable. That’s totally against the AI world.”
In fact, in the course of making just that one iconographic machine gun image above, I had my prompt blocked on one site, Leonardo AI. I asked for something like a person whose head is a machine gun that is shooting out images. For that model, those words are apparently just too dangerous. Therefore, the end user is not allowed to imagine them. The gun that shoots images cannot be used to create images of guns that shoot images. There’s some deep and dangerous irony in there…
I’ve been following along with the comments viewers left on my full-length interview with Milo Rossi. A few people are into it, but by and large the comments are highly negative. I get it. But at the same time, I’ve heard it all before a thousand times. I’ve literally gotten so many negative responses to my work over the past year that I have programmatically analyzed them for trends, and extracted actionable feedback.
None of the people who comment on the video have actually engaged with the content of the work that I do, only these artifacts of its outward form. None of those people, consequently, have understood that my art is actually by and large against AI – or, moreover, the risks of what happens when we willingly hand over our agency to large companies and their tantalizing products. (I even have a book about how “AI is theft” – even if I don’t completely agree with that perspective.)
But I don’t expect people to dive deep in these circumstances. The interview, if nothing else, is a springboard, a jumping off point for people to go down the many rabbit-holes of what the work actually consists of, its structure, and my thinking around it. I welcome hearing other people’s feedback; I’m just looking for those kernels within it which I haven’t already heard before. That’s what drives me to new places, and pushes the exploration forward.
I just wanted to settle here once and for all, though, one point which seems to consistently get challenged in comments. AI art is transformation not reproduction of its source training data. That’s part of what makes it Fair Use under US law. (I recognize that other jurisdictions have other conceptions around this – in France for example.)
And even if it were reproduction, reproduction and very close study and analysis is a critical part of art and the education of an artist. Doing my own master copy of a Matisse painting recently really drove this home for me. Artists *need* to be able to copy. That includes copying using technologies other than the technology of a paintbrush on canvas, which is just one of many available to artists today.
Also, I’ve said it before and I’ll keep saying it: the job of artists is to make art, not seek permission or approval of others. Our job is to listen, to be attentive, to study, to watch, to ask questions, to search for answers, to share our search, to share our questions, to share what we find to have conversations, ask better questions, make better discoveries, and on and on and on. Our job is to do, to make mistakes, to make “bad” art among the good, and trust that somewhere along the line throughout the process, the rest will get sorted out if we’re authentic about the chase.
Super excited this full-length version of my interview with Milo Rossi came out finally. It is so far the only long format video interview with me that goes deeply into my artwork using AI.
You can also watch his much much longer debunk video here, which part of the above interview plays a small element in a much bigger saga.
