They are coming
“Beware. Very soon you will also be replaced by a robot.” - told me the customer I was attending at my job while he examinates curiously the new system which automated some of the services we used to help customers with manually.
“I know, right? It’s scary.” - I replied jokingly.
Then he said something that stopped me from smiling.
“Yes, of course it is! If things keep going the way they are going, what remote corners are humans going to be pushed to? What will be left for humans to do?"
Immediately, I felt the heaviness of his words as he kept walking away.
As an artist, the first thought I had was: “What about art? If ‘robots’ can make art the same or better than us, should we keep making art? What’s the point then?”
The machine wins
The customer's words reminded me later about an article I read where someone submitted to a digital arts competition a piece of art made by A.I., and won the competition (to read about it, visit www.smithsonianmag.com).
Recently, I have been seeing everywhere all of these A.I. platforms that can generate videos and images with a click of a button with the same or higher quality than an art master can.
This subject has way too many sides to look at it from, and I’m not even going to try to dissect them, or to act like I know the right answer.
Honestly, the subject is confusing. There are too many things to consider.
However, there is one thing I am not confused about, though. I want to share that one thing with you.
Fire in the kitchen!
When I was little, I remember one evening my parents were cooking and me getting very intrigued about that shiny and gaseous light emitting heat under the pots.
“What is that, mom?” -- I asked my mom while pointing at the stove.
“Get out of the kitchen!” -- she screamed frightened after seeing how close I was from the stove - That’s fire! You are going to get burned!”
After being forcibly removed from the kitchen, I would sneak back to the kitchen to see the fire up close once again.
Hysteric, my mom yelled for my dad.
He appeared from the room noticeable furious after my mom explained to him the problem.
Admittedly, I got scared after seeing my dad’s angry expression.
But I got even more scared after he grabbed me from the hand, leaving my index finger out and putting it very close to the fire.
So closed it was that, although the fire didn’t touch me, I felt that apparently burning sensation my mom was warning me about.
“Do you want to get burn!? Do you!?” -- My dad would scold me while I tried in vain to free myself from his grab, and crying out loud I pleaded: “NOOO! Please, no!”
“Do you understand now?” -- my dad asked, freeing me from his grab.
I stood there, nodding while rivers of tears were coming down my face.
And that was when I first learned what was fire, and that fire burns.
I had “to experience it” in order to fully understand it (yeah, I know what you thought: there are probably a million better and less traumatic ways to teach kids about fire).
Like this lesson my dad tried to teach me about fire without many words, there are other things about the human condition that need to be experienced in order to be understood.
For example: artmaking.
Move your butt off the couch
I’ve said in other articles: you are either consuming art, making art, or both.
Like feeling ectasis when you see that couple from that Christmas movie finally confessing their love and kissing each other lovingly, there is something in you which wants to not only see such beautiful scene: you want to experience the scene.
You want to be the one doing the kissing. You want to be the one making love. And don’t want to remain just an spectator.
It is beautiful when you can consume art.
But there are times when you will feel the need to be the one making art.
You can argue here that consuming art is a way of experiencing it.
Yes, but consuming art alone will not allow you to live the complete experience.
This cycle of consuming versus making art, in any of its forms, is extremely human, and it is beautiful, and a practice worth protecting.
To get rid of any of both ends of the process will be detrimental to our health. I cannot fathom any other positive result.
Seeing others exercising might be instructional and motivational, but it will not provide you with the complete benefits of exercising. You need to move your butt off the couch and actually train to reap the full benefits.
Conclusion
I think that at some point you and I need to stop and think how much will we permit the advancement of A.I. to invade those corners of life which are very human.
Not an expert here, but, are there not supposed to be limits to A.I. and what they should do, regardless if they can?
Or will the “If they can do it, they should.” be the answer to that prior question, everytime.
I mean, robbers can enter my house and take away my belongings, but should they?
So, A.I. can make awesome art, and I don’t see why we should not consume or appreciate such art.
But from there to imply that human artmaking, the slow, sometimes messy, sometimes tedious process of making art is obsolete because an A.I can do it, is outrageous.
I would not like A.I. to rob me from the privilege of experiencing the full extent of art.
From reducing stress and anxiety, to help you slowing down and be more present in the moment, to increasing creativity and improving cognitive function, and building a sense of community, making art clearly justify itself as a natural need for humans which must be protected and satisfied.
Actually, I recently was reading an old Encyclopedia about the history of Puerto Rico, where it reads that the indigenous tribes (the Taínos) that first inhabited the island used to carve decorative collars out of stone they would wear during their ceremonial activities.
And as you know, this tendency to craft art have been an established practice from the very primitive beginnings of human civilization.
The need to express ourselves through artmaking is ingrained in us.
To make art is a practice worth protecting and fostered.
Humans can and should keep making art.
Final Words
I would be an hypocrite if I don’t disclose the fact that my wife and I use A.I., everyday.
From our personal stuff to some of our business operations with our online art gallery Kreation Artzone, A.I. have been instrumental in assisting us with certain tasks.
The key word in the above paragraph, is “assisting” us.
There is this book called “Co-Intelligence: Living and Working with A.I.” by Ethan Mollick that talks about the sort of healthy relationship we should foster with smart machines, which can enhance our capabilities in certain aspects across different industries, like helping with repetitive or minute tasks, for example.
However, the author also warns us to be careful we don’t end up depending so much on these smart machines to the point where we neglect developing our own critical thinking and creative skills.
Because these machines can literally perform most of the things we have been used to perform but better, and faster, the author argues: “There should always be a human in the loop behind the operations of a machine.”
This unhealthy dependency on “smart machines” is a real danger, because it would attempt against the development of our own potential as individuals, and ultimately, as a community.
Thus, the author invites us to be conscious about the use of and integration of A.I. in our lives, and that includes artmaking.
In this way, I am not against A.I. making or generating art, but about recognizing that it has its place and time.
We should not allow it to invade those sacred corners where the human spirit lies and allow it to rob us from the privilege of not only consuming art, but making it. In other words, to fully experience the art process.
Author: Jason Berberena
Visual artist, writer and co-founder of Kreation Artzone.