Continuing my short series, I recommenced asking for a dancer.
To be fair, I got some. It looks like sleeping/dead people crept in. The top left wasn’t at all what I was seeking, but I liked it and rendered a series.
It’s got a Steinbeck Grapes of Wrath-Oklahoma Dust Bowl vibe, and I love the muted colour tones, yet it still has warmth. Dancing isn’t working out ver well. What if I ask for a pirouette?
Not really. Cirque du Soleil as a keyphrase?
Ish. Cyborgs?
Meh. Why just faces? I guess these are cyborgs.
I want to see full bodies with feet. I’ll prompt Midjourney to have them tie their shoes.
Ya. About that… What the hell is that thing on the lower right? I got this. Once more…
Nah, mate. Not so much. The top left is just in time for Hallowe’en. I guess that’s a cyborg and an animatronic skeleton. What if I change up the aspect ratio for these cyborgs?
Nah.
Take me to church
This next set is supposed to be a high-angle shot in a church.
Not really. Let’s keep trying. Why is the top-left woman wearing pants in church – sans trousers? How about we ask for a gown?
OK? Churches typically have good lighting opportunities. Let’s see some stained glass.
Nope. Didn’t quite understand the assignment. And what’s with the Jesus Christ pose? Church reminds me of angels. How about some wings?
Not the most upbeat angels. Victoria’s Secret is on the lower left. I want white wings and stained glass. What sort of church is this anyway?
Butterfly wings on the lower right? More butterfly.
Why are some of these butterfly wings front- and side-loaded?
Anyway, let’s just call this a day and start thinking of another topic. Cheers.
Many of my readers know that I use AI often. I have been using it to create content for an in-depth book review for The Blind Owl. For those less aware of the foibles of generative AI, I share some insights—or low-lights. For this, I used Midjourney v6.1.
Prompt: a young woman gives a flower to an old man, who is crouched under a large cypress tree by a river
I issued this prompt, and as per usual, it rendered four options. Notice that in some instances, the tree is not a key element.
Given enough time, one can slowly improve to obtain the desired result.
Here, an old man indeed crouches under a prominent cypress tree and by a river. A young woman hands him some flowers—though not so much blue morning glories. On balance, I like this output, but it still needs work.
Some other problems:
The man is looking away—neither at her nor her flowers.
Her (right) eye is deformed.
Her left hand is deformed.
I didn’t ask for jewellery—an earring.
At least I can in-paint out these imperfections—perhaps.
Here’s another render using the same image prompt.
Notice that it ignored the man altogether. My point is that for every awesome image you see, there may have been hundreds of iterations to get there. There are ways to get persistent characters and scenes, but this takes a bit of up-from effort and iterations that one can leverage going forward.
On the topic of Midjourney model 6.0 versus 6.1, I share this comparison—front-facing faces for a character sheet for this old man. Here, I prefer the earlier model as displayed in the top row.
In some cases, there are minor improvements over v6.0. In other cases, they stepped back. v6.1 renders less realistic human images, making them look more computer-generated and less natural. It also over-applies sexual stereotypes, traditional beauty archetypes, smoother skin, and so on. But that’s not the main topic for today.
DISCLAIMER: This post has little to do with philosophy, but it ties into a philosophical novella.
In the heart of the digital age, a Chinese professor’s AI-authored Science Fiction novel snags a national award, stirring a pot that’s been simmering on the back burner of the tech world. This ain’t your run-of-the-mill Sci-Fi plot—it’s reality, and it’s got tongues wagging and keyboards clacking. Here’s the lowdown on what’s shaking up the scene.
AI Lacks Originality? Think Again
The rap on AI is it’s a copycat, lacking the spark of human creativity. But let’s not kid ourselves—originality is as elusive as a clear day in London. Originality is another weasel word. Everything’s a remix, a mashup of what’s been before. We’ve all been drinking from the same cultural well, so to speak. Humans might be grand at self-deception, thinking they’re the cat’s pyjamas in the creativity department. But throw them in a blind test with AI, and watch them scratch their heads, unable to tell man from machine. It’s like AI’s mixing up a cocktail of words, structures, themes—you name it—and serving up a concoction that’s surprisingly palatable. And this isn’t the first time, not long ago, an AI-created artwork won as best submission at a state fair. In some cases, they are seeking AI-generated submissions; other times, not so much.
AI and the Art Debate
So, AI can’t whip up human-level art? That’s the chatter, but it’s about as meaningful as arguing over your favourite colour. Art’s a slippery fish—try defining it, and you’ll end up with more questions than answers. It’s one of those terms that’s become so bloated, it’s lost its punch. To some, it’s a sunset; to others, it’s a can of soup. So when AI throws its hat in the ring, it’s not just competing—it’s redefining the game.
The Peer Review Question Mark
Here’s where it gets spicy. The book bagging a national award isn’t just a pat on the back for the AI—it’s a side-eye at the whole peer review shindig. It’s like when your mate says they know a great place to eat, and it turns out to be just okay. The peer review process, much like reviewing a book for a prestigious award, is supposed to be the gold standard, right? But this AI-authored book slipping through the cracks and coming out tops? It’s got folks wondering if the process is more smoke and mirrors than we thought.
What’s Next?
So, where does this leave us? Grappling with the idea that maybe, just maybe, AI’s not playing second fiddle in the creativity orchestra. It’s a wake-up call, a reminder that what we thought was exclusively ours—creativity, art, originality—might just be a shared space. AI’s not just imitating life; it’s becoming an intrinsic part of the narrative. Science fiction? More like science fact.
The next chapter’s unwritten, and who knows? Maybe it’ll be penned by an AI, with a human sitting back, marvelling at the twist in the tale.
I’m working on more serious content, I swear, Meantime, ChatGPT has me distracted with furious furries.
Write a poem about furious furries in iambic pentameter.
Furious furries, with their teeth all bared,
Their paws clenched tight with fury and with hate,
They snarl and growl and pace, not yet aware
Of the cold reason that might dissipate
Their rage. They are a force to be reckoned with,
These creatures of the wild, with primal might
And strength. They are a force to fear and fear
Again, a force that few would dare to fight.
But even furries, in their wildest rage,
Are still just animals, with hearts that beat
And minds that think and feel. And so, perhaps,
We ought to try to understand the heat
That drives their fury, and to seek to find
A way to calm the storm that rages in their minds.
Write a haiku about furious furries
Furiously they pace,
Fierce and wild, their eyes ablaze
Furries in a rage.
Write a postmodern poem about furious furries
Furries, oh furries,
Fierce and wild and in a rage,
They pace and snarl and growl.
But wait, what are these furries?
Are they real, or just a guise?
A mask to hide behind?
Perhaps they are a metaphor,
For something deeper, something true.
A way to express the rage
That lies within us all,
The primal, animalistic force
That drives us to lash out.
Or maybe they are just furries,
Fierce and wild and in a rage,
Pacing and snarling and growling,
Unapologetic in their fury,
Unwavering in their rage.
Furries, oh furries,
A mystery wrapped in fur,
A symbol of the fury
That lies within us all.
Ecrire un poème sur les furries furieux en conflit avec les fées françaises
Furieux furries, aux dents découvertes, Leurs pattes serrées de colère et de haine, Ils grondent et rugissent et arpentent, pas encore conscients De la raison froide qui pourrait dissiper Leur rage. Ils sont une force à ne pas sous-estimer, Ces créatures de la nature, avec leur puissance primitive Et leur force. Ils sont une force à craindre et à redouter Encore une fois, une force que peu oseraient affronter.
Mais même les furries, dans leur rage la plus sauvage, Ne sont encore que des animaux, avec des cœurs qui battent Et des esprits qui pensent et ressentent. Et donc, peut-être, Devrions-nous essayer de comprendre la chaleur Qui alimente leur fureur, et chercher à trouver Un moyen de calmer la tempête qui fait rage dans leurs esprits.
Féeriques françaises, de grâce et de beauté, Leur magie scintillante et leurs ailes brillantes, Elles se tiennent face aux furries en colère, Un affrontement de deux mondes diamétralement opposés. La rage contre la grâce, la sauvagerie contre la délicatesse, Un conflit sans fin, une guerre sans merci. Qui triomphera dans cette bataille éternelle? Seul le temps nous le dira.
Write a sonnet about furious furries in conflict with French fairies
The furious furries snarl and growl with rage,
Their paws clenched tight, their teeth bared and sharp.
They pace and seethe, a primal force engaged
In conflict with the French fairies, who hark
Back to a time of grace and chivalry.
But even in their wildest, most ferocious state,
The furries are still just animals, with hearts
That beat and minds that think and feel. It's late
To try to understand the heat that imparts
Their fury, but perhaps it's not too late
To find a way to calm the storm that rages
In their minds, and bring some measure of peace
To this eternal battle, this never-ending war.
The French fairies, with their delicate wings and charms,
Stand against the furries, a clash of two worlds,
Diametrically opposed. Who will emerge victorious?
Only time will tell.
Philosophics 