A Discussion On Prompted Imaging

Five short thoughts and ideas.

Williams, Arizona. Photo by Don Giannatti

Before we start, I must admit I really dislike discussing this stuff because it all seems so simple to me, yet the hype around it is beyond my understanding. Statements I read seem disconnected from reality, and the constant attempt to change the meaning of words is obnoxious at best.

However…

Here are five things I want to say, and I will keep them short.

How very unlike me.

One) I was asked why I am not indulging in MidJourney Madness, wildly cranking out cool pictures from basic language use. I didn’t have to think very long. I simply pointed out that I am also not participating in oil painting, fresco, wood carving, or sculpting.

Those are methods of creating art, too. I don’t choose to do them because I have already chosen photography, music, and writing. (OK, I confess, I do play around with pen and ink on occasion. Sue me.)

But I choose not to be involved in the process of prompted imaging because it seems very boring to me.

“Make a unicorn with three horns riding an elephant through the canyons of Mars,” boring.

However, you may not.

And that is great.

Fabulous even.

But I don’t care.

Two) Look around at the world of art.

We create artifices, things, and stuff you can hold, view, or listen to.

And we do that because we love the art, the artist’s commitment, and marvel at the sheer talent that is displayed.

The irreplaceable Gordon Lightfoot died a few days ago.

I loved his music, was dazzled by his harmonies, and delighted by lyrics that were created from the heart of a man well-versed in the art of living.

Would I be feeling the same sense of loss if a program that made sounds that sort of sounded like Gordon got corrupted — and turning it off and back on didn’t fix it?

Would you?

We were taken by the heart, and the knowledge that only one human in the world sounded like Gordon Lightfoot, and that human was Gordon Lightfoot.

The songs don’t exist outside of the artist's orbit.

There are no Gordon Lightfoot songs without Gordon Lightfoot.

If they did, they would simply be artifacts with no intrinsic value since they have no connection to us at all.

Boring.

Three) Ever notice who gets paid the big bucks?

Is it the guy at the burger shop who rings people up after they order their burger from the kiosk but want to use cash?

Or is it the tech who wrote the schematics and design for the kiosk?

Or is it the gal who invented the kiosk and patented its kiosk-like wonderfulness, and now owns most of the islands around Tahiti?

Things that are hard to do bring more esteem, and gravitas.

And much, oh so much more value.

I have always told my friends that if they wanted their kid to get a scholarship, they had to remember four words:

Cello, Oboe, Bassoon, French Horn. (OK, technically that is five words, but you know what I am trying to say, right? Right?)

Guitars? Drums? Clarinet?

Nope. In order to get a scholarship for those instruments, the kid would have to be at concert level. But being pretty damn good at Oboe will open a lot of doors.

Why?

Because it is f**kin hard to play. It takes months to even squeak out a note.

It has a built-in learning curve that is daunting.

It's probably way harder than typing in, “Mambo rhythm with lyrics that sound like Gloria Estefan” and being knocked out by the drivel produced, when you think about it.

Ya know.

(I don’t mean Estafan was drivel, f**k no, she is a national treasure… but fake Gloria is just fake AF.)

Stuff that is easy and cheap to do is worthless. Always has been.

Four) Ubiquitousness breeds disinterest.

Back in 1983, and yeah, I was around then, a movie was released with a catchy little tune that was instantly popular.

“Take your passion
And make it happen
Pictures come alive
You can dance right through your life

Now I hear the music
Close my eyes, I am rhythm
In a flash, it takes hold of my heart

What a feeling…”

Yeah, we were blindly Flashdancing through our lives with the constant soundtrack of that tune everywhere we were. From the clubs to the radio to every performance by the young singer unfortunately tasked with that little ditty, it was everywhere.

And it became a joke.

And the singer couldn’t get a break after that momentous streak to the top.

Because it was not unique.

I can buy prints of NYC in garish HDR on the streets of Manhattan for $25.

They are everywhere.

But I want a Joni Sternbach print. They are considerably more than $25.

Because they are rare, beautiful, and handcrafted by an artisan who is both well respected and goddamn amazing.

AI stuff is already flooding the pipes with the same ol’ prompted imagery that anyone who can type a sentence can create. And as it becomes more and more ubiquitous, the work of real artists like Sternbach will grow in stature.

Here’s an experiment: Take your six-year-old granddaughter to the computer and tell her to give you some ideas for animals, or dinosaurs, or whatever crap she is being sold to incessantly on TV?. When interesting images come back, and they will, you can then say your granddaughter is on the same plane of art as Platon or Picasso.

Right?

Right?

The thing exists, so it must be called art.

Five) The 812-pound (Covid weight) gorilla in the room: real vs unreal.

There is a difference, no matter what the common delusion of the day may bring, there is a strong difference between something that exists and something that does not.

A photograph captures a representation of what was there. At some point in time, that subject in the print — manipulated or not — existed.

AI conjures up an image of something that never existed and will never exist in the future. It is a full-on illustration.

Like a painter.

But without a heart.

A painter can sit and conjure up all sorts of fantastical images from their pure imagination. Every choice, from brush strokes to color to blending, has a specific reason for existence.

A photograph requires the artist to be where the subject is and capture it in such a way that it has some sort of uniqueness to it.

Two very different ways to create an image.

And one of the main reasons I am not interested in Prompted Imagery. It didn’t come from imagination, it came from math and algorithms.

Meh.

So does the US tax code.

“Where a deduction is allowable under part VI (section 161 and following), part VII (section 211 and following), or part VIII (section 221 and following) of subchapter B (relating to computation of taxable income) of this chapter to a taxpayer with respect to a loss on the sale or exchange of property directly or indirectly between the taxpayer and a person specified in any of the paragraphs of section 267(b) or 707(b)(1), the deduction shall be disallowed if the property is, in the hands of the person acquiring it, described in any of the paragraphs of section 267(a)(1) or 707(b)(1)(A).”

And while that may be riveting reading for someone out there, it is of no interest to me.

Now look, I know this will not be the last discussion, and I hardly believe I changed anyone’s mind about Prompted Imagery. That was not the point of the article.

As I said above, I don’t care.

I was just putting down, in writing, some of the things I have been thinking about lately.

While listening to my favorite Gordon Lightfoot song.

Are you thinking to yourself, “What reasons exist that would make me want to pay for a subscription to this, or any newsletter?”

I get it. I do. But, see, here’s the thing.

There is value in the paid version that cannot be matched by anything in the known (and unknown) universe. That includes free copies of my books when they are released, information for subscribers only, live shows starting in June, and a heck of a lot of fun. In fact, I am using Chat GPT to locate all the counties and townships where having this much fun could actually be illegal. I’ll keep you apprised.

Take a look and decide for yourself.