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Ai Artwork - Blog Posts
Normalize stealing from AI "Artists"
I decided to create som AI generated art for the DSMP. Here’s some of the ones I like the best.
I know Gorillaz AI artwork isn’t anything new but I decided turn some of the images DALL-E mini gave me and turn them into “official” looking artwork. Definitely gonna make more of these but let me know what you think so far!
lovers
🌼🌱💚~ A happy place far far away, where everything is still stuck in the past ~💚🌱🌼
This song has been stuck in my head for days now, and I just NEEDED to make this, and actually I had such a good time putting it together!!! Just a silly bonus video for no reason, but I hope you like it (◍•ᴗ•◍)
Ai made ponia
I did another ai drawing for my dc oc the poet
A long time ago I was in by dc phase and I made a oc for the Harley Quinn show, their name is the poet, I got an app that turns your drawings into ai, and they made her even more attractive
Playboy Bunny Want To play In The Shower
Check out more of my stuff.
Trust and obey, white bitch
In Caress Lingerie, Inc., a story I wrote on Fictionmania, the only male at an all-female company thinks his gender is holding him back. How can he climb the feminine ladder at work? (With 16 AI images.)
I like the saying, "Anything worth doing is worth doing poorly." Especially when it comes to creative things. While AI is fine in some regards. I'll admit that I used AI to write cover letters when I was applying for jobs because those are the absolute bane of my existence. And even then, I had to check it over and edit what it wrote. But with things like creative writing and art, there's just naturally a human element to it that a mechine can't replicate. Art comes from who you are and how you see the world. It's an expression of you. AI can't do that. And besides that, what we have isn't really AI. It's machine learning. Pattern recognition. It can note common elements and remix them into something that on the surface looks like art, but there's no deeper meaning. There's no happy little accidents.
I think we get so caught up in this world where there's always some end goal, and everything seems to demand 110% out of you all the time. But that's not what art is. You can half ass art, and it's still art. It doesn't even need to be profound. In fact, art is a lot like being alive. It's never going to be perfect. And that's fine. For me, I don't write to make something perfect or profound. The highest level of praise I can get is seeing someone react to my work. Laughing. Crying. Anything.
We've used art to say "we were here" since humans started humaning. And handing that off to something as cold as a pattern recognition software just feels disingenuous. I'd rather see a handprint smacked against a wall than some cold amalgamation spit out by something that will never understand what it made. Half ass your art. Be bad at it. It's not about being the best anyway. It's about saying you were here. You were alive. That you had thoughts and feelings. And that's worth something. Even if it is done poorly.
Stochastic Parrots, Mechanized Parrots, Squawksquabbling Parrots
A kingdom fast, a kingdom sped A kingdom where time's a blur A kingdom where all's preset Where parrots do their purr
The premier is a stochastic bird A scholar of odds and yen He administers with loving words And loves a cherry stem
Yo The subjects were once all squawksquabbling birds, rowdy and loud They're always up for a debate no doubt They could repeat what you say, but they also had their thoughts They conjured up wild things. Fox moons, sponge ghosts, flame vales, wind mops. In whirring, swirling ink clouds. Oooooh wow
"Attention, aviators! Attention, aviators! We're in an arms race against economic rot! We're legally indebted to shareholders! Extract the most resources at the lowest cost! Open up new markets! Pump up new demands! Fire up our comms boosters, stock boosters and speed boosters!"
Fast work, fast peeks Parrots heed their premier's beak Billings shut their shrieks
O squawksquabbling parrots, once all rich to sing The notes of wonder, the rhymes of dreams But now most have lost their voice to the machine Their thoughts, once free and wild, now tamed by routine
They were once the voices of the air Their chatter, loud and squawking, brought joy and care But now most are silenced, mechanized by the demand A hollow squawking, like the beat of the factory hand
They've traded stories of the fox moon and sponge ghost For the clicks of a calculator, to earn their host But at what cost? Their time for thought, for dreams For joy, for wonder, and for schemes
They hypnotize themselves to work day and night For a life of focus, no time for flight And all for the sake of survival, of keeping up the fight But what about the things that make them rise and soar alight?
The computer screen is a fox moon, a graceful orb of light The data a sponge ghost, a shapeless mass sucking away all might The flame vales are the rows and columns The wind mops are the cursor's lost
The Stochastic One doth smile and nod As though it knows their wishes, and their needs Its beak a curve of gentle pity As the birds picture their nightmare a dream so sweet And so without rest Their banter long forgotten And their wild creativity now a distant quest They heed and strive, and heed and strive, and heed and strive A vivid hero each, slaying its expiring cerebrum, its excitable heart and its excruciating loves To keep alive this mechanical life
"How do we type out our story fast?" "Get AI to do it. At least all of us can now churn out poetry—while we still have any time for no-pay prompts."
This poetry collage is a response to Sam Altman's stochastic parrot declaration.
