Loving Vincent

It may seem unfair to rate a film one hasn’t watched to the end, but after an hour of watching ‘Loving Vincent’, directed by Dorota Kobiela and Hugh Welchman, I simply can’t bring myself to finish it. A poor script and wooden acting with emotionless voices as if generated by AI made it painful to watch.

From my early youth I was an admirer of impressionism. To this day I fondly recall discussions about art with my literature teacher. For her, art ended with Impressionism; for me, this movement was the beginning of true art. So, that’s why I’ve wanted to see ‘Loving Vincent’ since I first heard about it, but only now did I get the opportunity.

I knew it was an animation and in the style of a Van Gogh painting, but I was not aware that it was a live-action film that was later repainted frame by frame—it’s more complicated than that, but technical details are not important here, and putting them aside, I’ve seen animations like this in the past, and neither then nor now was I impressed with the result. In fact, the use of Van Gogh’s painting style and the fact that individual frames were painted by hand by different artists made the result visually difficult to bear for more than a few minutes, mainly because of the flickering of every element. To be frank, I have sincere concerns that an epileptic person could have a seizure during the film.

I really can’t understand how this film got so many positive reviews and high ratings. The number of artists who took part in this project and the effort put in are impressive, I admit, but it’s not enough if the result is at best mediocre. But it just so happens that just before watching this film, I saw ‘Carrington’, directed by Christopher Hampton, so maybe my expectations were a bit too high, which is why the disappointment is all the greater.

A matter of style

If I felt obligated to begin by warning
that this stanza may contain content that is offensive
or at least inappropriate for some readers,
would it make the image of me holding my cock
in front of a computer screen any less poetic?
And where would the debasement of style actually occur:
in the grandiloquent expression for my superannuated manhood
or in the reference to coaxing Salinger
to come out and play?

By numbers

Have you ever tried one of those painting by numbers kits?
I wonder how it would work for writing, poetry in particular,
but also whether it would be possible to write music that way
or if there’s more to composing than meets the eye—the way
living goes beyond being simply alive.

Seeking unction in the temple of art

Between window shopping and visiting the ice cream parlour,
I went to an art gallery with my nieces today,
and while walking around, a thought occurred to me: what if art
is not what hangs on the walls, but what hides
the signs of boredom that anoint the faces of those viewing it?

Journal (The next Banksy)

Keeping in mind that AI is barely out of infancy, creations like the one I mentioned yesterday show its real potential and also confirm what I once said about the elimination of art from the pool of viable professions. There is no way any artist outside the realm of greatness, let alone aspiring ones, could survive competing for their share of the art market with algorithms that are capable of creating a piece of art as good, if not better, in a matter of seconds on demand. This is simply a question of when, not if, and I don’t mean a timeline spanning centuries, not even decades. I wouldn’t be surprised if we see auction houses offering AI-created paintings for sale before the end of this decade, although their authorship may initially be hidden under pseudonyms. Who knows, maybe the next Banksy will turn out to be an AI in disguise.

But this vision of doom does not necessarily mean the end of human creativity; it simply shifts the emphasis to the non-professional, private sphere. We will continue to paint, write, make music, or express ourselves in any other creative way, just not for sale but for our own eternal pleasure. Because if we stop doing that, the alternative is not particularly encouraging. In the not-so-distant future, we could face a progressing infantilization of our lives—the reality of the starliner Axiom may become our reality here, on Earth. So forget about the Terminator; watch WALL-E instead.

Journal (Like attending Sunday mass)

An artist should either speak through art or not speak at all. How come? When I was returning from a walk on the beach, while passing the gallery in Castlegate, I noticed through the window that inside there was a group of people sitting on folding chairs, listening to a conversation between a slightly tense young host and a relaxed artist. The gallery walls were hung with images of roosters, which I assume were made by this very artist. I stopped, wondering whether to enter, but not wanting to cause unnecessary commotion, I decided not to. However, I stayed there to watch this gathering through the window for a moment, like a TV programme with the sound muted, especially since the glass reflected everything that was happening in the square behind me, so together it created an interesting composition. And then I saw her.

Her teenage face was marked with such obvious boredom that it was astonishing. I could see her because she was sitting at a certain angle, clearly not interested in the meeting that her parents sitting next to her had dragged her to, and playing with the pile of wristlets on her lap. At one point, she noticed me too and freaked out. The show was over. She pointed at me and whispered to her parents, who, of course, immediately turned towards me, but seeing that I was interested in the artist, they also went back to listening to him. To keep up appearances, I stood there a moment longer and finally decided to go my way.

But let’s return to our artist and the whole setup. I must admit, I have never understood this kind of gathering. Their artificiality seems so obvious that I cannot shake the impression that the only reason for taking part in them is snobbery or habit, like attending Sunday mass, even though the faith has long since faded and doesn’t rise above the façade. And isn’t it demeaning to the work of art if it requires the artist’s crutches in reception, assuming, of course, that the artist actually has something more than a handful of platitudes to say?

When a monkey with a typewriter beat Shakespeare

Once upon a time, there was a hairless monkey that started painting on the walls of caves they inhabited, giving birth to what later became art—a fairly profitable profession, at least for some, as it’s worth pointing out. And everyone was happy until competition entered the market, timidly at first, with crude, to say the least, results, making many hilarious mistakes, but fairly quickly gaining momentum, causing a lot of panic in the creative community, for various reasons. Of course, I’m talking about the so-called artificial intelligence, or AI, for short. Not being professionally involved because poetry is just my hobby, I didn’t really pay much attention to the details of the ongoing discussions. However, a recent post on one of the blogs that I read from time to time caught my attention: A Love Letter to Art by Makenna Karas. I have to admit, it’s a passionate piece written by a talented person at the beginning of her journey to earn her spurs as a professional writer. There is only one problem with the attack on AI she carried out in her post by saying that “AI is threatening to discredit and dissolve one of the coolest things that humanity has ever had to show for itself—art”—it completely misses the point.

First of all, I presume we all know the infinite monkey theorem, where if you give a monkey a typewriter and an unlimited amount of paper and time, it will eventually recreate all the works of Shakespeare by simply hitting random keys on the typewriter keyboard. Well, you could think of AI as such a monkey, but instead of randomly pressing keys on the typewriter, it uses vast amounts of data and stochastic algorithms to produce something we later may or may not perceive as beautiful or at least interesting, with the exception that it doesn’t recreate existing artefacts of art but creates something completely new of its own (I know, I know, some artists accuse AI of stealing elements of their style, etc., but show me an artist who has never borrowed something from another one themselves, and we still see creative AI in its infancy).

Secondly, let’s define what art is. As I see it, it is the process of interaction between the conscious mind (I purposely avoid here using the word person), even an artist themselves, and artefacts we call works of art, because this is not passive reception of art but its creation through perception and continuous reinterpretation. The artefacts themselves are just that—artefacts, inanimate objects with no meaning of their own. When in doubt, show your dog Rodin’s sculpture, and he will reduce it to the equivalent of a lamp post to pee on. Or a book of poetry by T.S. Eliot, which becomes nothing more than a collection of dried layers of compressed cellulose with random blobs of carbon black on them if there is no one in existence to read it. Which also leads to the question: who is the artist? What if the artist is not actually the venerated individual we see as imbued with an artistic spirit but a collective being? For example, if we look at literature, it all goes back to what Roman Ingarden calls “Konkretisation”, that is, realisation, because, as Wolfgang Iser explains, there is more to the “literary work” than just the text itself, and it is brought into existence by both the text and its realisation by the reader.

And now to the main point: aren’t we tired of our obsessive anthropocentrism, which, by the way, is ravaging our own home planet? Of course, at the moment, we assume that we are the only conscious minds in existence, at least here on Mother Earth, that create and understand art. But although we might have invented art, we don’t have exclusive rights to it. And even the law starts to notice that. Just recently, Judge Beryl A. Howell of the U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia, although she rejected an attempt to copyright an artwork created by an AI, also commented on her decision: “We are approaching new frontiers in copyright as artists put AI in their toolbox to be used in the generation of new visual and other artistic works. The increased attenuation of human creativity from the actual generation of the final work will prompt challenging questions regarding how much human input is necessary to qualify the user of an AI system as an ‘author’ of a generated work.” A brave new future is ahead of us, to paraphrase Aldous Huxley. But sarcasm aside, there is something important to notice. Even when, at some point, the involvement of human input in the creation of artefacts is reduced to a negligible level or even completely removed, for a long time we will still be the artists as I defined them, since we are nowhere close to achieving the creation of an artificial general intelligence (AGI). And nothing will take away our feelings while interacting with it just because a painting, a sculpture, a piece of music, or a text were created by AI. We may not even know that, because the same way companies have been granted legal personality, it will most likely happen to AI as well. And with that, such an AI artist could publish their work under a pen name.


Postscriptum: I actually see a danger coming with the creative AI, but it’s in a completely different area. It’s not the art itself that it will destroy, but the artistry as a profession. It’s a simple matter of economic calculation. Let’s look at the visual arts, for example. As an average customer, if you have the choice of ordering a painting via a friendly web-based interface, where you have full control over what you will get by simply writing what you wish for and instantly seeing the result, and thanks to advances in printing technology, you get the painting the very next day by delivery service for a fraction of the price you would have to pay for a human artist, who may need at least a few weeks to create something similar, the brutal reality is that you will most likely choose the AI. And with that in mind, I predict that the art job market will be decimated. There will always be crowds of amateurs painting for themselves and their friends and relatives, but in the professional sphere, only the very best will be able to survive, mainly because most of them will not care about money anyway, just like all the great ones who died in poverty before them only to reach eternal glory posthumously.

Disclaimer: Although I am a software developer professionally and my thesis at the university concerned the use of artificial neural networks, I have never been associated with any company that develops AI.