Machine Creativity.

A couple of months ago I wrote about AI generated artwork.

Since then, as part of my job, I've been looking at the functionality of some AI creators. And they can be scarily good. In one instance, with only a few key words, I asked one to create a document for me. It was pretty good. An hour later, with the same key words, I asked once more. And the document was much improved. It had trained in the space of an hour, and I doubt many people would have requested a similar document in that time.

This week I've been involved in three separate conversations about AI generated artworks - art, writing, film and music. I did not instigate any of these conversations so it's obviously something people are thinking about. In two of these discussions, my friends were convinced that AI could never create real art, as a machine can't have creativity. I disagree.

I've seen examples of accidental art, where someone has accidentally spilled paint on a wall. They may not have recognised it as anything more than a mistaken mess, but I saw the beauty and took a photo. It really is a lovely piece of art.

After all, don't they say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder?

It's coming. We will, in a few years, have films and albums fully created by AI based on scripts and lyrics written by a human. And then how long until the AI is writing those as well.

Personally, I don't mind. I look forward to seeing and listening to AI created works. And some of these will resonate with me, others won't. Some will be considered masterpieces.

Words, Words Everywhere.

Lots of words. Thousands of them. None of them for sale. I wrote them all, but they've been given away and I don't even know how many of them will ever be read.

In the past few weeks I've marked lots of essays and written hundreds of school reports. Then there's been the proofreading, corrections and tweaking to get the comments just right. It's not a pleasant job, but one that has to be done. It's one of the compromise aspects of my career, one of the roles I must do if I want to do the actual teaching stuff.

The creative side of my writing is still quiet, although some would joke the reports I write are fiction. But one of my mentors tells me to take those 'report' words, use them. There are narratives in there. Hopes, dreams, success, failure - all you have to do is sort them out. Use some, twist them.

He's right, of course. He usually is. And he's far more experienced with words than I am.

I will play with those words. I will contort them, slash them, hack them within an inch of their lives.

Another experiment. Will it result in anything useable? Who knows? But that is what experiments are about. And it may plant a seed, something that leads to something that leads to something else.

They are, after all, only words.

Creative Space.

Several years ago I read the Charles Bukowski piece on the Ideal Conditions and Myths of Creativity. And then a year or so ago I found the illustrated version, which appears to have now been removed from its original website at Zen Pencils (at the request of Bukowski's publishers), which also ran the fantastic Bill Watterson piece on Creating a Life that Reflects Your Values and Satisfies Your Soul.

It covers a number of excuses people use to procrastinate, or never start creating - some of which I can certainly identify with. One of the lines refers to having the right space, the appropriately conducive surroundings in which to commence your masterpiece, and the piece concludes with:

“Air and light and time and space have nothing to do with it and don’t create anything except maybe a longer life to find new excuses for.”

It has been a dream of mine to set up my own writing space, and not just the study in the house. Now it's finally ready to go.

It's been gradual, setting up the space. It's taken me a couple of years. A lot of it had to do with clearing the room, painting it, getting shelves in for my music and books. Then I purchased the furniture needed - a broad table rather than a desk and a chair that feels just right. There was no hurry - my writing wasn't reliant on this dedicated space.

But the final piece fell into place yesterday with the purchase of a 2nd hand computer. This computer is special - it has no internet connection and no games installed.

And so, as of this morning, I'll be in my new space and working on the story I commenced at my mini-retreat last week.

Bukowski might not be satisfied, but then again he'd be very, very drunk.