Dear Artist, Is the Algorithm Your Pimp?

Over the course of the last decade I have witnessed the ethereal spark behind the eyes of humanity —the spark we affectionately refer to as “the soul”— all but disappear. This is a generalisation of sorts, I have caught glimpses here and there -exceptions. I consider myself lucky in that regard. The light, it dwindles. 

I last wrote you on August, 30th of last year. Spurred into action by a strange and meaningful dream. This time I am entirely outward facing. Reporting back to you from my duties as a “watcher”. It is given very little weight. Like trying to stir a pot of already set concrete. Diagnosing a curable illness once rigor mortis has already set in. That is where we are now. Well into the final stages of this. Contorted, ready for the final act.

I am no conspiracy theorist, but I can tell you what has happened. When COVID happened the vast majority of us clutched social media like a lifeline. It changed, not only how we spent our days, but who we were. It changed how we processed information. It eroded our critical thinking. Our attention spans. Our need for authenticity. We were somehow prompted to ‘just take what we could’ so we started digesting this strobe of existence. Tiny fragments. Incomplete, either in wholeness or purpose. 

A new measuring stick was offered. Success was the size of a digital footprint, and how you went about growing your audience didn’t matter. It didn’t even matter if your audience was a real audience. In its totality, the human being was drawn away from what it means to be human. Psychologists were employed at the very beginning of this. Good psychologists. Every thing was designed to take you further and further away from you. You were even prompted to defend it as harmless. 

I made it fairly public that over the last few years I have stopped seeing people as individual entities. In the wake of creative pronoun expression I have replaced ‘them’ for ‘it’. No longer capable of seeing any distinguishing meaningful features that would set one apart from the other, I see only parts of the same thing. Something like how i would visualise an annoying hum.

For the sake of clarity —to help you along— lets say there was an existential divide. Those who got sucked in, and those who felt uneasy about it and pushed back. It’s not that simple, but it gets the job done. COVID was 6 years ago. The pull of social media was well underway before it set in. It merely tied up loose ends. Pulled the stragglers along with a fear of loneliness. 

It’s impossible to give a percentage regarding how much of humanity has its critical thinking skills intact. All I know is that I have exceeded the typical screen focus time of the average human by 2.5x at this exact point, and I’m about to draw my introduction to a close.

All of what I have just said is obvious. What I am about to say next is something you probably haven’t given much thought to, but you should.

Let’s say you survived all this. Let’s say who you are is no worse than a little weathered. Well done. You’re aware. You are creativity and critical. You are kept awake from time to time by your internal monologue solving mini existential riddles. You might stand quietly and watch the clouds or study the backs of your own hands. Little moments of yourself. Enough to keep yourself there. 

Perhaps you write, or make music. Are you an artist? 

The previous 600 words were scene setting. The scene itself is short and easy to grasp. It is important to understand the meaning beneath every step you took to get here. So now all you have to do is open your eyes.

It is laborious to write about creativity. Foolish to debate what is and what isn’t art. So I am a little uncomfortable, even when solely discussing psychology within the realms of creativity. 

Isn’t it fantastic that individuals can turn ideas into complete works so easily now? An artist no longer needs to hone any neglected skills to complete what they start. Hell, you don’t even need to finish an idea. Anyone can bring their ideas to life! Isn’t it fantastic? AI is the ultimate tool.

AI is the ultimate tool for finishing off the last of us. And just like what happened before, we will defend it. Do you not think those hours of feeling stuck might have a purpose? Do you not think that the uncomfortable searching around your own skull for the missing parts is a gift? What separates man from master is not the ability to conjure an idea, but the ability to see it through to its final form. To hone their skills. That mixture of creativity and dedication. That ability to toil with a craft. That is the point of creativity I will always labour over.

You will defend it. You have the dopamine hit of a completed work. Why struggle with the anxiety of not being good enough to finish? Let me tell you… And I will end here…

If, as soon as you have an idea you can use it as a prompt and create something then what have you created? I can tell my dog to sit, but my dog is the one that sits. I strongly believe —and warn against— that this will kill the artist. Every automated piece of work will feed the inner parts of the soul morsels of dread until it is forced to die, just like the feeds of 5 second snapshots of nothingness did to everyone else. This is just your version. The audience don’t care, that part of them died back then. And with every artist dead, there will be nothing to lead us towards life. This is on you now. This is how they get YOU to stop loving yourself without you realising it. 

You will unknowingly accept your dwindling ability to express yourself with an ironic confidence. “Look at all these ideas I have!” Your discography will take up pages, all of it available on popular streaming platforms. All of it, studio quality. None of it you. None of it can be you, because there will be none of you left. So think before you dip that toe, or defend something as a ‘useful tool’. AI, for the artist, will do nothing but return ‘master’ back to the state of being just a man.