I remember almost a decade ago the “experts” were saying the last thing artificial intelligence would master would be the creative arts. Judging by my experience with Midjourney it is already well on its way.
AI Art platforms like Midjourney had been sparking my curiosity for a while and, recently with a reminder from @bozz, I thought I'd try it out. Out of curiosity I thought it would be interesting to input entire poems into Midjourney to see what the AI would come up with. Some of the art hits the bullseye and reflects the poem distinctly others, I'm not so sure about.
When I look at the art I'm not so sure about I wonder if my brain is just trying to draw associations between the art and the poem, allowing me to see connections that aren't really there. After all, the human brain is very good at doing this, it's what happens if we stare at the clouds too long.
All in all this made for a very interesting journey. Soon, I'll be creating an autographed limited release series of each piece of art with the poem inscribed along the outside edges and will auction them off. I'll be donating a portion of the proceeds to the Alzheimer's Association in my Father's memory. More on this soon to come.
Overall, I'm pretty impressed. Please let me know your thoughts on this little experiment of mine.
shoulders squared,
our best angle
for the camera.
is now just an
inanimate object,
a frozen moment,
soon to be judged
and measured against
all imperfections
that came before
and every assumption
that comes after.
This one, for some reason creeps me out a little and I can't quite put my finger on why but it didn't totally miss the mark. I thought it was interesting the AI choose a female form for each version.
is the conjuror
of many contradictions,
in which we live
is a lavish stage
of grand illusion,
with sharp edges
and serene softness,
twisted knots,
and breathless beauty,
but our soul's mirror,
it takes such courage
to gaze into it,
and admit our thoughts
create everything we see
it's not bravery,
sometimes we're just
tired of being broken and
simply have no more
tears to cry.
This is the most abstract of them all. Although I struggle to directly associate the art with the poem I see correlations. Each picture has a liquid or mirror quality to it. I'd be interested to get your opinion of it.
the will
of the Universe,
silent point
at the center
of our stories,
no struggle,
no question,
no sorrow...
only joy and love,
I surrender.
This one is my second favorite for so many reasons and, to me, it has the most merit when it comes to the quality of the art.
of darkness is drawn tight
and the incense smoke hangs still,
muse settles in
and I become its channel
in its soft murmurs
that possibilities and hope
are still within the reach of my mind
makes me forget my wounds,
my worries and
the prickly ache of time passed
it’s easy to see my scars
make me who I am
but do not define me
my muse is otherworldly
and Heaven sent,
it leaves me lifted,
wrapped around me
I can brush the
the frigid throes of this world
from my shoulders
with head raised,
proud of each facet of my soul,
happy in every cell of my being,
filled with the anticipation
of what might be.
This, especially the upper left quadrant, is my favorite and I feel it's married perfectly to the poem. It's both haunting and deeply introspective.
it seems like
such a
fluid interplay
of randomness,
so convincing.
it is lose
ourselves
in the
intellectual maze
of thought,
chasing meaning
after elusive
meaning.
for order in
wretched chaos
that we
lose sight
of the fact
that we’ve been
here in
this beautiful
garden all along.
This are reminds me of the distant future or possibly an alien world. To me, this one is like a window to a future I'll likely never see in this lifetime.
What do you think?
Enjoy the rest of your day! Be well.
Poetry should move us, it should change us, it should glitch our brains, shift our moods to another frequency. Poetry should evoke feelings of melancholy, whimsy, it should remind us what it feels like to be in love, or cause us to think about something in a completely different way. I view poetry, and all art really, as a temporary and fragile bridge between our world and a more pure and refined one. This is a world we could bring into creation if enough of us believed in it. This book is ephemera, destined to end up forgotten, lingering on some dusty shelf or tucked away in a dark attic. Yet the words, they will live on in memory. I hope these words become a part of you, bubble up into your memory when you least expect them to and make you feel a little more alive.
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