12:06 AM: One Artist's Response to the A.I. 'Crisis': Richard A. Jacobson

When you stand at the crossroads, you are standing at a point of decision.

I have been a working professional artist for over 30 years. Upon hearing the whispers of A.I. generated images and, later, trying it for myself, I felt both mesmerized and terrified. On the one hand, it made it so easy to experiment and to test out ideas. On the other hand, I feared for my livelihood. I was repeatedly being told that everything I had worked for would be taken away from me – not in ten years, but next week. 

In the beginning, I actually used it quite a bit. I ran through my allotted free images in a day, entranced. I was seduced by the images produced in seconds and how easy it was to churn out ideas. It felt addictive. Yet, something was… lacking. A.I. could create something beautiful, but it was surface level. They lacked depth; they lacked ‘soul’. 

Was the art soulless because it was effortless, morally grey, made by a computer? Was it traded in at a crossroads, maybe around midnight? 

I say soul, but I fear that might be too abstract for an explanation. In my experience, it is an emotional connection or response you can have to an art piece. It amazes me how, even without words, something like a guitar solo or a solid colour painting (Malevich’s Black Square) or (Mark Rothko, The Black Form Paintings, 1964- No 4) could convey rich emotion. There is authenticity in the original. 

I view art as a form of communication. It begins with the artist – my experiences and influences, my feelings, my ideas, my efforts and craftsmanship. The conversation continues as the art is witnessed. My story is transformed into your story, with its own set of experiences and feelings. In that moment, something deeply meaningful occurs.

If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? 

My father used to leave the shop radio on 24/7, still does. As a kid, I could hear it playing through the garage walls late into the night. The thought of it playing alone in the dark through night, haunts me. The radio is just a tool, just an old piece of tech when it is off, but my memories give it more meaning than that. I chose to emphasize tools in this collection because our minds are so quick to think of them in action. A tool neutral and at rest, like my father’s screwdriver, is seen for its history and its potential. Without a witness, however, it is only an object, junk, clutter. 

I began looking at A.I. as a neutral tool. It is our use and experience of A.I. that will define its meaning. Certainly, some people will have cruel or selfish intentions. Many tools, like a screwdriver, can become weapons in the hands of someone who intends for harm. But I cannot ignore it, A.I. – as a tool or as a topic – is everywhere. If I am forced to bear witness, then I want the power to have it mean whatever I choose. 

For many pieces in this collection, I used the bot as a tool for inspiration: a spark before the fire. Starting with numerous generated images, I would turn to Photoshop and my sketchbook to play with them, piecing them together in much the same way I piece together references for a hyperrealist painting. The images were truly transformed when I began building my ideas and stories into them while I painted, carved, poured, assembled (and so on). Funnily enough, despite using A.I. at the start of the process, this collection has more of me in it, than any before.

Disclaimer: In my opinion, to present A.I. generated work as your own creation is (at best) lazy and (at worst) morally bankrupt. When you had no hand in the creation you cannot call yourself an artist. By typing out prompts, no matter how creatively, you are an art director, not the creator.