‘I feel like we are nearing the end of times.’ ~ Hayao Miyazaki
dub spectrum and ai
People are often surprised to discover that I have never used Copilot or ChatGPT. Writing is a skill and I consider myself reasonably decent at it and feel it’s something that can always be improved upon so best to keep practising – whether writing creatively, emailing a friend or colleague, or typing up a patient’s note at work.
I have experimented a little with AI tools in Lightroom and thought it was a bit crap – putting a bland sheen over the character of human faces… as if programmed to understand cultural homogenisation as representing the highest art: no uniqueness, no quirks, no chance, no subjectivity, no human; just a sheen of bland forevermore.
Personally, right now, AI strikes me as the next phase of neoliberalism: Francis Fukuyama declared ‘The End of History’ after the fall of the Berlin Wall. As I understand it, AI is basically a ‘super-processor’ of research and information, which is produced by humans that provide the basis for scientific advancements in, for example, medicine and engineering applied in everyday life.
However, if we follow the current trajectory of using AI for everything because we have arbitrarily deemed it as somehow superior to us (not sure what the evidence for that is… other than a calculator being quicker at maths than most humans?), then will we reach a point where humans no longer produce new research and information (and by extension, music, literature and art) because we now rely on AI to process everything already done to that point? Would such a thing not mark ‘The End of Progress’? A state of perpetual inertia dictated by machines?
I suck at maths so calculators are great, but they have not in any way improved my ability to add anymore, I suspect, than AI will improve the creative abilities of someone who is not particularly imaginative or artistic. And that basically sums up AI for me: a giant calculator, no doubt with some great uses but best kept out of the creative arts, I feel.
As an indie, I am drawn to the warmth and feel of vinyl (not a 'perfect' sound) and the romance of a rushing Amen break contrasted with atmospheric soundscapes that another person will simply not understand (or like), while a complete stranger will similarly be moved to tears likewise for reasons none of us understand… other than it makes us human (and connected).
For reasons unknown, I find a degree of believability in the DIY, makeshift approach of early cinema to create its effects (films such as The Invisible Man), which leave gaps to be filled by the imagination; as opposed to the explicit, gamer aesthetic (not to mention infantile dialogue) of those ubiquitous green screen movies that leave room for nothing: pure propaganda. I don’t know why the crooked trees of semi-ancient woodland soothe my restless mind and I don’t care to know why: being in that space, in that experience, requires nothing more as I reconnect with my own humanity.
Contrary to reason, art dwells in a vast lake of not-understanding, what Rudolf Otto referred to as the ‘non-rational’ (as opposed to irrational) state of being. If we shut out the unknowing of the non-rational, do we not reduce ourselves to little more than mind-numbingly obedient automatons? My beef with neoliberalism is that it seems to have perpetuated an interminably banal era of soft-totalitarianism spearheaded by Big Tech. Utopian nerds (and indeed many scientists) appear to have a worryingly authoritarian view on what makes us human.
As Japanese filmmaker, Hayao Miyazaki, said in response to advances in AI and technology: ‘We humans are losing faith in ourselves’. It’s a trite observation to say that technology can be used to great effect in art. It’s as banal as that tedious question: ‘what is art?’ I think it’s maybe time to ask what (or rather who) makes art? In a deeply troubled and divided world, art can restore faith in humanity. Take the human out and I feel we could be, to quote Hayao Miyazaki, ‘nearing the end of times’.
Resistance through re-enchantment.
2026
Christopher Sharp