Creatives, robots, and a self-proclaimed 'reptile guy' gather in the backyard of an artist co-op building.
Basically another story about why I am not fun to have at parties.
Sometime this summer, we sat in Steph’s artist loft co-op’s shared outdoor space, and after admiring the height of the tomato plants, someone brought up AI generated art; you type in life-like corgi with 80s disco lasers and it creates the image, you type in moody watercolour Chicago skyline in hues of purple and it creates the image, you type in Will Ferrell enthusiastically holding tiny kittens and there’s Will’s gentle face, there are the fluffy little kittens.
They’ve come up with AI that will finish sentences, write your emails, sign off with whatever sign off you set it to that doesn’t sound condescending to your coworkers. Maybe they can figure out a greeting that says I hope this finds you well that doesn’t have the marrow of optimism sucked out of it by its nature. The bot can learn your turn of phrase and imitate you after a line or two, someone says it could write a novel after reviewing a few. The next Sally Rooney.
The setting and the gathered company around the patio table at the artist loft co-op feels significant to the conversation that unfolded - you might not know that around the corner from the latest condo development city there is such a place as this loft building: each resident must fill out an application about what creative contributions they are making to the city, which means Steven in 3C makes sculptures out of torn newspaper and Elias and Sandra in 4F own over 1800 vinyls and if you were to knock on any door and say hey guys, what’s good? you’d hear a wonderfully weird and interesting story. Someone who is not me should make a documentary about this.
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