Category: Art

AI and Pride

Perhaps we have all turned into John Henry, pounding railroad spikes trying to beat a machine. Artists are confronted with the same situation as other intellectual occupations – what used to take skill, pride, thought, and time can now be done by any teenager in a dull moment. The internet is flooded with AI images, movies, stories. Work has similarly vanished. Some of us remain luddites, stubbornly sticking to brush and pencil. Why? A waste of time…

But is it ?

Climbing a mountain or hiking in a forest is not the same as viewing a YouTube video of the adventure (not even – as technology advances – an IMAX immersion). Things we do for ourselves have both an outer and an inner component .

Accomplishment of something difficult brings pride. Even if it is only pounding spikes. Or painting a canvas .

The key is that doing something you like to do, either for the activity itself or for recognition, is a kind of play. The same task forced on you (especially repetitively) is a chore or boring job. We should avoid confusing the two .

Mankind evolved with hand coordination. In spite of our big brains, we remain a physically oriented species. I think AI art robs both the creator and the audience of that heritage. Except for the brief thrill of novelty, pride and satisfaction are completely missing .

Appreciation

I believe the primary goal of art is to instill appreciation. That is true whether one is creating it or absorbing it. All the rest is detail. That outlook applies to all types of artistry. Cooking, dancing, painting, whatever. A warm flush of “wellness” if it works. In current jargon, a re-enchantment with the world .

I approach my current pastels and sketches in such a mood. Not to “capture” what I see – that is done ad nauseum by photographs and photorealistic artists. Not to create salable artifacts, nor even some phantom dream of inclusion in the universal “museum without walls” . Just to fully engage in and appreciate a moment, in my case more easily accomplished by my clumsy actions. 

Oh I admit it’s nice to have a tangible marker of having been alive. A kind of pride at having “done something” rather than just sitting on the couch. Like writing, a verifiable trail to the past .

Nice relaxed attitude, a child again. I don’t much care if what I do closely resembles whatever inspired me. The goal is more the trance of a vision enabled by concentrated action. When I wake out of this state, if successful, I am relaxed and content with everything .

Fame

Brought up in an era when singers and pop bands got wealthy, as an admirer of famous artists, I always understood that fame was one of the keys to becoming rich. Unfortunately (or not) I never had enough ambition nor stamina to pursue it seriously – I was more focused on everyday life. But as I created computer programs or paintings it always remained a quiescent dream of maybe .

So I watched the art world sizzle with huge rewards for outrageous works. Was bemused by respected galleries selling what seemed to be junk. Gave up on exotic modern art exhibitions as displays became more and more incomprehensible. Also, living in the sedate suburbs, found the local scene excessively bourgeois. Lots of watercolor from photographs. Lots of super realism from photographs. Lots of purposely kitsch designed to sell online. I happily, isolated, burrowed in and followed my own path. Always secretly hoping the future would vindicate me and (even posthumously) deliver fame .

Now I read that the high end art world has “collapsed.”  “Patrons” have moved on to play with crypto. Galleries are failing right and left. The froth – like the tulip bubble – has vanished. Perhaps never to recover .

The other cliches about fame are that it is capricious and fleeting. Now the goddess mostly dispenses it in viral form on the internet. I remain solitary and happy .