The Artist vs. the Machine: Mythology, Kitsch, and AI

Harking back to Greek mythology, where gods and beasts merged in human-animal chimeras, I decided to try something similar. I fed photos of myself and Fritz, my golden doodle, into ChatGPT’s image generator.

In one image, I chose a photo where I look tired after finishing many chores—the resulting chimera looks tired too.

Tired chimera sitting in a chair, looking at a computer screen, with paintings and art supplies around them.
Tired

In another, I’m grinning, and sure enough, the chimera grins back.

Close-up of a chimera grinning.
Grin

The last one surprised me. It blended Fritz and me in an even stranger way.

strange chimera
strange

Artificial intelligence has made it easy to generate images—and they’re getting better. In just the past few weeks, ChatGPT’s visuals have improved dramatically: the ugly plastic surfaces and eerie artificial glow are gone. The technology is quickly evolving.

Years ago, after reading Asimov’s Robot Series, I already imagined a future where painting would become obsolete—people living in homes with pixellated walls that could display anything: a waterfall, a forest, a beach. That vision no longer seems far-fetched.

But can a machine replace the artist? Looking at an image/painting on a screen or in a book is still profoundly different from seeing it in real life. The difference isn’t just technical—it’s experiential. You don’t need to be a mystic to feel it.

Quantum mechanics shows that nothing exists in isolation—everything is relational. The same is true of art. A real painting carries the artist’s presence; it’s an encounter. A reproduction—whether a giclée print, a canvas wrap, a Facebook or Instagram post, or an AI-generated image built on what artists have previously created—may resemble a painting, but it’s inert. There’s no sense of exchange—only observation.

As Carlo Rovelli writes in Helgoland (2021)—his poetic exploration of quantum mechanics—our world is not made of things, but of relations. The real presence is in the encounter.

A final thought: If you look closely at my digital images—amusing, even startling as they may be—they’re still kitsch. They rely on novelty and surface effect rather than depth.

As AI tools become more refined, it raises a deeper question: will painters begin to draw inspiration from these composite, generated forms? Or will they resist, holding to something more internal—more personal?

 

10 Comments

  1. The images are so interesting even hysterically funny. Truly glad you experimented with AI. Some artists will draw inspiration from AI some won’t, remembering when photoshop first came out.

  2. So true. I use Photoshop extensively for making montages and often apply its filters to analyze my photos. I originally learned it in the context of scientific illustration. Because of that background, I wasn’t part of the artistic conversation at the time surrounding the invention of that technology.

  3. At first glance , i thought the image of you and Fritz was your creation and it surprised me. Yes, the humor, and the creative interpretation of you as a kindred dog….but the disconnect for me was that it didn’t feel like YOU.
    in writing we talk about the writers “voice”, not sure what they call it in the visual arts. AI cant give us that… like you say “more personal, more internal.” I add “imperfect”. Human?
    Thanks for writing this. I resonate with the stuff about Everything being relational.

    • Imperfect! I remember an art critic writing about Schiele’s paintings, that he often left small areas unfinished—spaces not fully covered in paint.

      I am glad that you had trouble with my three pictures since it means that I have a recognizable painting style! I cannot find the equivalent term to writer’s voice. Oddly, ChatGPT suggests terms like “artist’s voice” or “visual language” as equivalents.

      When it comes to identifying a writer’s voice, I think I am tone-deaf. I reread Jane Austen and now Richard Osma
      n, and writing this, I realize I probably enjoy both not just for how they write but for their satirical take on society as well.

    • I was a little afraid it might be sacrilegious—but since the Greeks did it, I figured I could have fun imitating them.

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