Does AI art creep anyone else the fuck out?
Someone DM'ed me and described the feeling of it as 'eye vomit' and I believe it's one of the most apt things I've ever heard. Today I rant about why AI art scares me.
I think that inspired creation is art, and the type of inspired creation that comes from a real life human can never be replicated by machine. The very thought of replacing human art and creativity with machines sends a chill down my spine and makes me not want to live. I know that seems dramatic, but to me my creative output is my entire purpose of living, and without it I would merely be a sad shell of a person.
My creative output is how I make sense of my thoughts and express who I am: taking my life experiences and knowledge and distilling them with love and care into a physical form feels more meaningful to me than having children.
My art is my children. Everyone’s art is everyone’s children. Replacing human art with ai art is like comparing a living breathing human to a crash test dummy. Maybe it’s because I’m a visual artist with a very discerning eye for aesthetics, but I can always fucking tell when something was created by AI.
My body knows before my mind does: when I look at it, it automatically makes me feel a little sick in an entirely distinct way. Someone actually messaged me and said that AI art makes it feel like their “eyes are vomiting” and that's the closest I've been able to get to describing the feeling it gives me.
Like jesus fucking christ, WOOF.
What's even worse is when I spot it and no one seems to notice or care, I feel like I might as well be in a checkout line at the supermarket standing behind a seemingly sentient crash test dummy that everyone else is pretending is a real person.
The crash text dummy turns back to look at me and penetrates me with its stare even though it doesn't have eyeballs. Who the fuck do you think you are? I'd think to myself while scanning my groceries sitting still on the still conveyer belt.
Then I'd pay and walk out holding a bag of fakely flavored corn dust chips in one hand while the other has a conversation with a friend I've never met. Maybe this is just how it is now: maybe the difference between authentic and imitation doesn't even matter at this point.
It's just been so hard to ignore the feeling I have in my core about it: this feeling that it's robbing the world of hummaness and we all are sitting back like, "cool!"