There’s something weirdly disappointing about AI images. I haven’t lived through any other significant era where a craft became a commodity, but I imagine this is what some people felt like during the industrial revolution.
Generate a reply to a fediverse comment. The comment expresses agreement and laments the rise of this soulless and parodic facsimile of creativity which furthers the social and economic devaluation of a profession whose practitioners are already frequently characterized as “starving”. Amiable yet embittered tone, melancholic tone, eloquent but a little overwrought, high quality, faded colors, style of Greg Rutkowski.
A shared lament, indeed. It’s a paradox of our times, this abundance of empty simulacra, leaching the vibrancy from genuine creation. We witness the devaluation of artistry, a realm where passion once thrived, now bartered and commodified. A faint hope whispers that perhaps, from the ashes of this parody, a new understanding might emerge, a recognition of the irreplaceable essence of human creativity. But for now, we are left amidst the faded hues of a world struggling to discern the real from the artificial.
There’s something weirdly disappointing about AI images. I haven’t lived through any other significant era where a craft became a commodity, but I imagine this is what some people felt like during the industrial revolution.
Generate a reply to a fediverse comment. The comment expresses agreement and laments the rise of this soulless and parodic facsimile of creativity which furthers the social and economic devaluation of a profession whose practitioners are already frequently characterized as “starving”. Amiable yet embittered tone, melancholic tone, eloquent but a little overwrought, high quality, faded colors, style of Greg Rutkowski.
Certainly!
A shared lament, indeed. It’s a paradox of our times, this abundance of empty simulacra, leaching the vibrancy from genuine creation. We witness the devaluation of artistry, a realm where passion once thrived, now bartered and commodified. A faint hope whispers that perhaps, from the ashes of this parody, a new understanding might emerge, a recognition of the irreplaceable essence of human creativity. But for now, we are left amidst the faded hues of a world struggling to discern the real from the artificial.