Is AI art Art? Who cares.

As someone who works and recreates in the Arts, I have struggled to make sense of the current conversations about the roles or sins of artificial intelligence in the creative arts, however you might personally define those.

Like many in my fields, I have worried that AI tools were going to pick my pocket or put me out of work. And I have worried about the dumbing down, the dilution, the commoditization of the Arts.

What a load of egotistical bollocks on my part!

As I said, I work and play in the creative arts. For me, that involves writing pretty much anything that can be written, live storytelling, and improvisation, and I dabble in filmmaking, drawing, and even singing. And I consume most of the creative arts in one way or another.

But is any of this Art, deserving of the capital A? I’m not sure that I care.

I enjoy what I enjoy and don’t what I don’t. I hope the same is true for you. If our choices overlap, great. If our choices completely conflict, great. I am just happy you have found things that make you happy.

At the risk of offending the artists I follow, I suspect that The Establishment – that mysterious arbiter of acceptable tastes – would call most of what I like pedestrian – as if there’s something wrong with walking – or outright trash.

I read thrillers and Shakespeare. I follow and own prints and paintings by street artists. I love The Three Stooges and The Flying Circus. And my musical tastes range from Gregorian Chants and Bizet to The Monkees and Ray Stevens (YouTube “The Streak”).

For its part, can anything I create be described as Art? Again, I am not sure that I care about the uppercase A or that I am truly in a place to judge.

Some of my writing has been brilliant, says me and, on occasion, others. Most of my writing has been serviceable, passable, or utilitarian. And quite a bit of my writing has been weak, bad or downright embarrassing. (I leave your opinions of this piece to you.)

I enjoy my live storytelling and improv, but not every story or set comes off or is received as I might hope. The same is true for my other artistic efforts.

And most of the planet’s population will never experience any of it. (Thank you for experiencing this.)

So, what does my creative resume have to do with AI?

Two things: One, the concept of “big A” Art is hubris of the highest order and exclusionary. And two, the artistic merit of anything is a personal decision rather than something with tangible metrics.

Art evolves with every passing generation because tastes evolve with every passing generation. In some ways, Mozart was the Ray Stevens of his era and The Abduction from the Seraglio is his Gitarzan, a piece of music considered frivolous by “those who know” and yet highly successful in its time.

Charles Dickens and Arthur Conan Doyle were newspaper serialists long before their works were considered classic literature. And most famous crime and science fiction writers published chapbooks – aka “cheap” books or pulp fiction – before they became known as Masters of their genres.

AI, like the printing press, is simply a tool that facilitates the production of creative arts on a scale not previously imaginable. Whether the output of that production is “good” rests soundly in the eyes and ears of the beholders, just as communities once warned of the sins of comic books and English translations of The Bible.

I do not actively use AI tools in my creative arts – I even avoid the AI results of a Google search – not because I think AI is evil but because I have not found a use-case for AI. The typical reasons most use AI, it seems, actually serve to replace the steps that I find make my creative artistry most enjoyable.

That said, I appreciate that not everyone thrills at the sight of a blank page like I do. Not everyone has the same confidence in their passions or themselves that I have developed. I meet many of these people when I teach a screenwriting class or improvised writing workshop. And I personally know the hesitation of self-doubt in attempting creative arts I consider outside my natural skillset.

If AI tools serve as a gateway for self-expression for these souls, I am all for it, and I will support and encourage them just as I would support and encourage those who choose to experiment and risk failure under their own steam.

And if AI tools are used to mass-produce materials – aka Content – to be consumed by the seemingly bottomless pit of the online world, so be it. People, including possibly me, who want it, will consume it. And maybe it will whet consumers’ appetites for creative arts produced by humans. Maybe even for mine.

Although there remain environmental and intellectual property factors to consider in choosing to use AI tools, the artistic (or Artistic) merits and values of what it produces seem trivial and egocentric to me.

Over my lifetime, I have consumed trillions of words by seasoned and novice writers. I have seen pens, pencils, and keyboards used to stunning effect, in both the positive and negative sense. I expect no different of the words generated by AI tools.

I wish any creator, any artist using any tool much joy in the creative process, whatever theirs might be. And I look forward to making up my own mind on their end product, however it came to be, no capital A required.

Who is this guy?

An award-winning screenwriter and filmmaker, Randall C Willis has told stories his entire life, writing for every medium, but has recently caught fire live on-stage. He describes himself as a story evangelist, a practice that he preaches as a screenwriting instructor at George Brown Polytechnic. In January, Randall launched the workshop Out of Our Minds and Onto the Page, which fosters freewheeling creativity and spontaneous storytelling using improv games and writing sprints. And through his company So, What’s Your Story?, he helps storytellers of all media to find their voices and explore their ideas.

Randall has told stories across Toronto, grateful to take the spotlight at Funny Bone, Listen to This, Page to Stage, Tales Toronto, The Yarn, Tight Five, and Replay Storytelling.

DUNE! Hell yes!

I must qualify that Frank Herbert’s feudal sci-fi story had a huge influence on my life, including an upcoming project I am developing. I have read no book more frequently than I have read Dune.

Thus, I had great anxiety about Denis Villeneuve’s adaptation as I entered the theatre. Within the first two minutes, that anxiety was replaced with exhilaration as this 57-year-old man once again felt the upwelling of emotions that he experienced as a 13-year-old boy seeing Star Wars for the first time.

Villeneuve has done an amazing job staying faithful to the novel, including scenes that I had almost forgotten were in the book. But that also means that the movie is long and will require several installments to complete the saga.

At moments, some of the performances felt a little over-wrought, but as the movie progressed, the performances became more nuanced and subtle, as though the actors finally got into their roles & began to understand the characters more clearly. By the end, Timothee Chalamet was Paul Atreides. (I reserve any comments on Zendaya as Chani, as her role is still quite limited.)

But more than the performances, this is a movie of scale & spectacle. I nearly wept at the first worm sign, & I am confident my chin was on my chest when the first worm appeared. These worlds are real. Villeneuve & his team have done an amazing job bringing these planets & their inhabitants to life. And those alien places & family conflicts are given greater life with the soul-resonant score by Hans Zimmer.

For those who haven’t devoted their hearts to Frank Herbert’s ecological fever dream, Dune may not be all that. They may see it as slow & ponderous. They may consider the characters melodramatic & hyperbolic. They may consider tedious the need for multiple installments.

You do not need to know the novel to enjoy this film. The story plays out coherently without inside jokes or Easter eggs to the informed.

For people like me, however, people whose pulse matches the throbbing Zimmer score, whose lungs breathe the Spice melange, whose DNA is infused with Bene Gesserit mythos, Dune is our homecoming. We are the Fremen.

Working for free – Worth every penny

empty pockets

At some point, if not several points, in their career, every writer is faced with a familiar dilemma.

Someone has a great idea for a story and is looking for the perfect writer to bring it to life. As with any job situation, you bring samples of your work, you highlight previous projects and you develop a rapport with the excited creatives across a boardroom table or in a coffee shop.

You see their vision for the story. You’ve added exciting elements off the top of your head. They clearly like the way you think. This is going brilliantly.

And then you get to the crux of the matter: compensation.

“Well, you see…” the creatives start inauspiciously. “We’re still lining up financing, but once we sell the story or the final project, then we all reap the benefits. Besides, this is a passion project.”

Ummm…the word “dollars” never appeared once in that monologue.

“If it helps, we’re not making any money out of this either.”

They seem sincere. This doesn’t feel like a scam. So, do you take the gig (or non-gig, as it were)?

It really depends to some extent on who is sitting across the table from you.

Martin Scorsese. George Clooney. Kathryn Bigelow. Ed Catmull. Alison Brie.

Yeah, maybe you take a flyer with them. Although, I would be suspicious as to why any of these people were experiencing financing delays.

More likely, you’re meeting with lesser known, less accomplished filmmakers who simply don’t have the contact lists of the big names and for whom financing is as much about family and friends as it is about Hollywood’s biggest backers.

Doesn’t make them bad people, although I would hope you had Googled them before the meeting to see what you could learn about them. But they are putting a lot of the risk onto you as the writer, risk that could leave you penniless after a lot of hard work.

Truthfully, if they haven’t got the financing in place already, then they have no business asking someone to develop a story for a promissory note or I.O.U.

Gigs for free

You’ll hear/read phrases like:

Future compensation: Fine if the money ever arrives. But the brutal reality is that if the project is even completed, almost none of these small projects ever makes enough money to cover costs…and you are one of those costs.

Great exposure: You had to Google these guys, so how much exposure do you expect to receive? And the only exposure you are guaranteed is as someone who will work for free.

Passion project: If the passion (or idea) isn’t yours, then that is pretty meaningless.

And as I realized first hand a couple of years ago, working for free can really complicate ownership of intellectual property.

I wrote a short screenplay based roughly on an idea shared by two young filmmakers, a story that to the best of my knowledge was never made. My bad: we had no written agreement. I have no idea if the screenplay is mine or if they would have a legal case to come after me should I place it into competition or try to make it myself.

Fortunately, it was a short, so I only lost days rather than months or years. But I still lost days that could have been spent earning money.

At best, you should really only work for free for your own projects—particularly germane to writer-directors, writer-actors, and the dreaded triple threat writer-director-actor—but I’m not even sure that this is a good idea.

Unless you’re still in college, you should really have your financial ducks in a row if you ever hope to be taken seriously.

At the very least, payment for services rendered can be bartered, if cash is an issue.

You’re a filmmaker with an idea in search of a writer? Well, I’m a writer with an idea in search of a filmmaker. Let’s barter services.

dairy-cows-milking-machine

Is your Art valued or seen as a commodity?

I know it is flattering when someone is so enthused by your storytelling capabilities that they want you to bring their vision to life.

Truthfully, though, it is only flattering when they value the skills you bring to the table, and that value deserves compensation in some tangible form.

Try convincing your landlord, the electric or cable companies, or the grocery store to accept “future compensation” or “invaluable exposure”.

 

Know your value. Be familiar with the regularly updated Writers Guild rate sheets:

Writers Guild of Canada

Writers Guild of America – West

 

Learn more about effective storytelling and the benefits of story analysis and story coaching at:

So, What’s Your Story? (web site)

So, What’s Your Story? (Facebook)

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