One Hundred Percent AI-Free!

I am old enough to remember a humorous theoretical problem that asked something to the effect of how many years would it take a group of monkeys sitting at typewriters to crank out the works of Shakespeare. Fast forward to today, in the age of machine learning, and the questions are barely theoretical and the time frame horrifyingly immediate. How long before artificial intelligence (AI) algorithms make writers and other artists obsolete?

My one and only avatar, courtesy of my partner, Heidi, running an image through a popular filter in 2021

There is a lot to unpack here, and if you have not devoted time to follow digital and technological advances, you have some catching up to do. I am grateful there are watchdogs like Sean Thomas, who recently wrote an illuminating overview (but dark forecast) in The Spectator.Maggie Appleton penned an even more thoughtful summary in her blog. Few of us in the creative fields pay close enough attention to these things, if only in part because we do not want to know how threatening it truly is.

Artificial intelligence, as it applies to artistic endeavors in general, only came on to my own radar when friends in social media, namely Facebook, began to post about how AI images are generated. My understanding is that the algorithms are “trained” through exposure to countless existing images, overwhelmingly created by living, breathing humans. This is a form of data mining that does not credit its sources. An AI image is essentially a composite of an unknown number of previous images that informed its digital genesis. With no credit, let alone compensation, to the original artists, this is tantamount to theft.

The technology is also quickly outpacing the ability of governments to regulate it. Heck, most people in the U.S. Congress are probably blissfully unaware of it. This has not escaped the notice of the legal community, though, and a class-action lawsuit was filed recently on behalf of artists whose works were used without authorization by an AI program known as Stable Diffusion.

Ironically, and perhaps tragically, a previous legal case, Author’s Guild v. Google, resulted in a favorable decision for Google Books, which took substantial liberties in providing free “previews” of text and images for books in its search engine. Shoot, I thought that was a great thing at the time the Kaufman Field Guide to Insects of North America came out. Only a couple of spreads of plates and text would have sufficed, though.

I hate to be a cynic, but it seems apparent that corporations ultimately want a world with nothing but consumers. Everything on the production side they want automated, or at least outsourced at poverty wages. Material wealth is for CEOs and majority shareholders. Never mind that without earning a living, there can be no consumers. That is an afterthought in this day and age. Advertising copy and imagery will soon be done by computer, and does art serve any other purpose anyway?

To the best of my ability, I will be avoiding anything AI, and will not use it in creating my own writing and photography. Heck, I do not even use Grammarly, maybe because I am fortunate to have friends who are better editors than I am. They will not hesitate to message me with anything that needs correcting. Meanwhile, I will be a happy agitator for the rights of all individual human beings, especially those who are creators. Let not the corporate voices drown out the disadvantaged and underrepresented. Not on my watch.

I want to give special thanks to my friends and colleagues who originally provided the links cited here: Gwen Pearson, J.C. Scott, Steve Taylor, and Jonathan Kochmer.

Book Review: The Home Place: Memoirs of a Colored Man’s Love Affair With Nature

I cannot help but see the irony in writing a review of a book written by a self-described “odd bird” in a blog entitled Sense of Misplaced. Perfect. What author J. Drew Lanham manages to convey brilliantly is that biophilia is a desirable affliction that transcends all colors of human diversity. The Home Place is a clarifying window into what it means to be an outsider among the privileged Caucasians who dominate the fields of biology, ecology, and wildlife conservation. Even casual birding presents challenges, but Lanham offers hope for a more integrated future.

Dr. Lanham and I are close in age, so it was intriguing to see what similarities of experience we shared given graphic differences in our home places. He is a Black man. I am not. He has siblings, and now children of his own. I do not. His upbringing was rural, mine urban. I am certain, however, that we both colored the same mimeographed songbird outlines in our respective elementary schools, even though there are no Northern Cardinals, Blue Jays, or Rose-breasted Grosbeaks in western Oregon. No “markingbirds,” either. Ok, end of anything “me,” here, though a literary memoir would fail miserably if it did not spark memories in the reader’s mind, and evoke empathy and agreement.

The ecosystems of place, time, family, faith, academia, economy, and wild nature are all woven together seamlessly in The Home Place. Each one influences all the others, none standing alone. Through it all, Lanham expresses an ethical philosophy and physical and emotional vulnerability that is obviously authentic. He would never call himself brave, let alone heroic, but in many ways he is exactly that. Lanham carries a reverence for life that applies to every aspect, from familial relationships to hunting, birding, and conservation research.

The book is organized along the trajectory of Lanham’s personal and professional life, beginning as a member of a familial “flock,” and progressing through “fledgling” to full-blown “flight.” Today, Dr. Lanham is positively soaring, having recently received a MacArthur Foundation fellowship, recipient one of the prestigious “genius grants” the foundation awards to exceptional individuals. Indeed, Lanham is one of those rare birds able to effortlessly navigate both the creative and scientific realms, bringing a unique perspective to both academic and public spheres.

No one would fault the author for having an angry tone given past and present injustices to their demographic. Instead, Lanham manages to tread that fine line between justified hostility and denial that historical and personal transgressions hindered their life at all. He is properly assertive, mournful for the lives of his ancestors, and insistent that things be made right.

We can all be better allies for reading The Home Place, a John Burroughs Medal Finalist as a "Nature Book of Uncommon Merit." It is an invitation to explore ourselves as well as the world around us, and to advocate for both biodiversity and human inclusivity.

In case you could not already surmise, I am highly recommending The Home Place for your personal library. It is like adding the work of an esteemed artist to your office wall. Whenever I am feeling a loss, be it mourning the loss of a favorite wild place, or simply at a loss for words, or way to communicate powerfully, I can pick up this book and be inspired all over again. The Home Place was published by Milkweed Editions, a non-profit entity located in Minneapolis, Minnesota, in 2016. The book is 217 pages.