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fingerprints in silicon

fingerprints in silicon

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the use of generative AI does not automatically disqualify a piece from being considered art. but why not? i messily type in half word salad, half run-on sentence to a diffusion model, and i get back a high resolution image that might’ve taken a friend weeks. isn’t that cheap? unfair?

maybe. but the realism painters of the 1800s would likely have the same reaction to today’s cameras. completely unfair that, in my pocket, i have a device that can capture reality more clearly than their brushstrokes ever could. and yet we consider photographers to be artists. what are we missing?

one fear is that models obscure the amount of effort put into a given piece. it feels like a betrayal to zoom in on the hands and see the backwards knuckle. what you thought was a human’s handiwork was just matrix multiplications on silicon. is it then the toil that goes into a piece what imbues it with their memories, perspectives, subjective experience? we’re far removed from handprints on cave walls, but the viewer still wants to see the artist’s fingerprint.

but we’re looking in the wrong place. the fingerprint isn’t in the blood, sweat, and tears. someone who sucks at painting and had to put in more effort doesn’t automatically have a more ensouled piece. instead, its in each choice made in the art’s creation. the ones that carry history with them. waking up at 4am to capture the sunrise is just effort, but its the chasing after that specific hex of orange that reminds one of the kumquat tree in their front yard, the kraft mac and cheese, the logo of their alma mater. it has to be that one.

sometimes these connections can be traced. other times artists just know - it has to be cerulean and not cobalt. not being able to explain why doesn’t make the choice any less theirs. they don’t have to remember that it was the color of their childhood bedroom. what matters is matching the vision, even if it couldn’t be described until it was seen.

i’m designing the protagonist of a game i’m making. opening up chatgpt.com - i type in ‘cute anime girl’ and hit enter. what i initially get back is not art. still, even those three words carry faint traces - why cute and not pretty? why anime rather than realism? these preferences formed … somewhere. for now the ensoulment is minimal, generic. and each generation helps bring that subconscious preference into something more real and alive. finally, #257/500 sparks the vision like finding a perfect stick out in the woods. i didn’t carve it - but i recognized its beauty. the choice to take it with me is still a creative act. i refine the prompts further. brown hair, not blue. a backdrop of a cyberpunk city, not a fantasy forest. each prompt brings the idea in my head closer to being on my screen. she’s leaning on a ramen stand that reminds me of Tokyo-3. i open up photoshop to get her smirk to look just like my ex wife (she took the kids). each application of discrimination pulls more of ‘me’ into the final product. a faint fingerprint of preference starts to accumulate the weight of intention and vision.

photographers know that there’s more to a picture than clicking a button. you can see the yoga pose the photographer stood in to get everything in frame. the hours spent in after effects to capture one orange’s vibrance but another’s calmer warmth. why it fits just at the top-right corner of the collage. each revision carries with it more and more of the memory of each choice the artist made - more uniquely identifying than any biometric or signature.

the artist’s soul enters the work over time not through the medium, the tools, or the raw effort involved in generating the piece. but through each decision, each rejection of what could have been into what it must be, makes it uniquely theirs.

I created a vision of David in my mind and simply carved away everything that was not David - Michelangelo

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