One of the side effects of the movement to Artificial Intelligence is that it requires less of our own imagination and problem-solving skills. Search engines were just the beginning of this movement to rely more and more on technology. One literally had all of the answers to every question at their fingertips. No longer did you have to wonder which film won the Oscar for best picture in 1985 (Amadeus). How long is the Mackinac Bridge (26,372 feet (4.99 miles))? It is a crutch, to be sure, but it comes in handy more often than I would like to admit.
AI tools such as Chat GPT dial this advancement up considerably. Now we can type virtually any task and voila, in mere seconds, the answer pops up on our screens. I confess to never having used this or any other AI tool for some of the reasons that I will enumerate. But before I do that, I feel the need to give my rationale. My belief is that our individual brains are powerful beyond belief. Studies have indicated that we barely ever use them to their capacity, and like a muscle, if it is not used, it will atrophy. That is my premise.
Technology is designed to make our lives easier. No longer do we have to drag our dirty clothes down to the creek and bang them upon the rocks to clean them; we have a fancy machine to do that for us. What a time saving and back saving device. No longer do you have to walk up the stairs because elevators and escalators will do that for you. Typing this on a PC saves the wasted paper, correction tape, and the clickety clack of the typewriter.
These are efficiencies gained by reducing physical and dexterous activities. Taken to their extremes, our muscles would atrophy from lack of use. Perhaps our fingers would develop more from pushing buttons, but we would slowly devolve into amorphous blobs incapable of routine tasks that we were capable of just a few generations earlier.
We could argue the benefits or costs of these developments in the physical world, and whether we should use our muscles to do things that machines can do with less effort. I try to use machines to an extent, but still do a lot of things manually, as I am able.
But as it relates to the mental, creative side of ourselves, this is where I draw a hard line. As mentioned in Original Content Written by a Flawed Human Being, I could enlist the help of AI to read the entirety of my written word and then write the next 100 blog posts. I imagine I could do that in a few minutes. But, I would ask, to what end? Creative expression and, furthermore, artistic endeavors reflect the unique experience of human beings. We have stories to tell from our own lives. These stories may be compelling, funny, or boring, but they are reflections of our very unique perspectives.
A painting, for example, is a unique expression of the artist and how they see the world at a point in time. Their style may evolve and change, but it is always going to reflect themselves as the creator.
I recently watched an interesting video where a man, who appeared to be a painter, spoke of an event in a European Gothic Cathedral where a dazzling light and video show was projected in moving fashion all around the space. It showed the stars of night twinkling on the ceiling of this church, which quickly morphed into large birds appearing to fly across the same ceiling mere moments later. The columns and balustrades were not ignored, as they too had moving and colorful images racing across them. It was stunning and breathtaking.
He then went on to speak of the moving images that are being displayed at the MOMA (Museum of Modern Art). These paintings were never the same as the images just flowed from one to another, the same way a lava lamp from the 70s was always moving and changing (once it warmed up). These images were enticing as well. One could get caught staring dopily at the constantly changing shapes and colors and almost fall into a trance.
His point was that when these things are happening, we don’t have time to imagine or feel anything other than what is being presented, which is constantly changing. The builders of the cathedrals created a space of worship for its beauty, which lends itself to quiet contemplation, where one can consider one’s own smallness relative to the space in which they sit and pray. The moving art, in a similar fashion, fails to allow the viewer the opportunity to study the painting, the brushstrokes, the use of color and light, and the nuance the artist portrayed.
I admit that I have been struck by a still life or landscape in such a way as I didn’t want to leave it. My mouth may have been agape, maybe not, but I felt emotionally about the scene the artist captured. I was not told what to think, and the image did not change so that I could perceive it more fully. The movement didn’t need to be animated as the artist implied movement through their technique. There is no need to animate the sky in van Gogh’s Starry Night; in fact, I would go so far as to say animating it (which they have done) is a desecration. Likewise, forcing the Mona Lisa into a full grin would be to defeat the purpose and intent of the artist. The viewer is left to decide why she has that expression on her face, and in that notion, we get the phrase, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
It seems that with AI as it moves into the creative realm, that notion may become, “Beauty is what we tell you it is.” Or “Beauty is what we want you to believe.” As our imagination is slowly being replaced by the perfection of computers, we are losing our uniqueness and our shared experience in the natural world.
I have stopped watching most modern movies due to the heavy reliance on CGI (computer-generated imagery) and, with it, graphic violence. At first, it seemed like a cool addition to add realism to a fantasy. Now, it is just lazy filmmaking. We have slowly been conditioned to need more and more realism as they have been raising the bar. The flying monkeys, from The Wizard of Oz, used to scare the hell out of me. The terror that Jaws evoked in me reduced the time I spent in Grand Traverse Bay in 1976. Looking at those scenes today, it is almost laughable that I felt anything remotely like fear.
I will resist as long as I possibly can, replacing my unique brain with all of its potential to convert what I perceive by my natural senses into feelings. Much like I don’t want my muscles to atrophy, so I keep on walking, I don’t want my brain to atrophy by short-circuiting the creative process. As always, original content created by a flawed human being.