The Phantom Artists of A.I.
There is nothing more disconcerting than connecting to a piece of art just to realise it is not the artisanal creation you imagined it to be, but instead, was artificially-generated. At times I cannot help but feel cheated, or even tricked, after identifying with these pieces of media. For something so distinctly inhuman to be able to evoke and replicate a feeling unique to your own human experience is nothing but unsettling.
It feels as if the recent upsurge in artificial intelligence has been sudden. From A.I. concocting TV scripts, to essays being written through ChatGPT, the definitions of what we once knew as artistic talent and integrity have now been permanently altered with the click of a button. Yet, the speed with which A.I. has seemingly taken over has resulted in a lack of discussion surrounding its ethical boundaries - or lack of them. Many people seem blindly willing to consume any piece of art or media created through artificial intelligence with no qualms nor apprehension. To naively marvel at the innovation that comes along with this new-found technology without acknowledging its ethical repercussions, teeters on the edge of dystopian.
I found the role of A.I. in ‘photography’ particularly intriguing. I use inverted commas not to satirise their role but instead to question what the definition of a ‘photographer’ is to begin with. Is it the flicker of a shutter and the human eye that warrants someone to be called a photographer? Or do we change our definition of the role entirely when the photo is artificially generated, instead of taken physically with a camera?
I first encountered this discussion through an upload of PhotoVogue. More specifically, when their featured ‘Photo of the Day’ was a photograph taken by Emanuele Boffa. The photograph implied a brave act of photojournalism, depicting a veiled female figure with a disarrayed, fiery backdrop. Yet, discovering this was not a real-life moment and instead A.I.-generated was jarring to say the least. It was at this moment that I realised the moral implications of this new ‘form’ of creativity. The profession of photojournalism requires an innate sense of bravery; it entails a certain level of danger and is often a concerted effort of activism. To present something as human-made and authentic when this is untrue is not only deceiving but lacks moral transparency - especially when it presents itself as a form of activism or photojournalism. The trust of the consumer is broken and the value of journalism is tainted.
Another noteworthy moment in A.I. is Vogue Singapore’s March issue. The magazine described the A.I.-generated covers as ‘a celebration of the past while reimagining the future—showcase a range of Southeast Asian women, each carefully constructed to represent their unique ethnicity and heritage.’ Yet the verb ‘constructed’ implies that diversity can only be reached when artificially generated; if you have to ‘carefully construct’ diversity, then it is not the feat of representation that you think it is. Why should artificial intelligence take the jobs of models that can represent their own identity and tell us consumers their authentic lived experiences? Why is diversity only reached when manufactured through binary and code?
A new standard must be reached, where explicit distinctions between human and A.I. created art are established, and the value of human talent is not diminished. The artificially-generated can only ever be a mere imitation of the things we feel, and will never be able to replicate the same thoughts and emotion of the lived human experience. Therefore, lucid clarification between the artificially-generated and the man-made is essential when moving forward towards this new age of technology.