> | [iOi]

I welcome my child’s doodling; or myself scribbling words: “look daddy your grandson made this”

I welcome a bee making a choreography or a primate swirling in the water: “that will make for a funny gif”

I welcome that bonus for a “job well done” scratching my way through the ceiling: “look honey I have a title, a truck and ownership”.

I welcome a whale blowing air bubbles in the ocean making ephemeral golden ratio-like shapes while singing their aesthetic anesthetic song: “oh an audio-video clip to attract most likes”

I welcome the sports person or adventurer reaching the top; breaking a leg; getting that peak: “I want to be just like you one day”

I welcome an AI design writing an artwork: visual, textual, sonic or mathematical. I welcome its poem or painting indistinguishable from that child’s, mine, that expert, that genius: “can I be you, robot, please?”

However, dear, as with Jazz or Mathematics or Poetry or climbing the Everest, or that hill with that tree on top, as your last trip, at the age of ninety two and a half:

it’s not about the poem, the number, the note, or the right result. It’s the journey, the aesthetic, the laboring, the sweat, the doubt, the insecurity and most of all the dialog

before; the dialog during and the dialog long, long after the tangibles or measurable, the simple analytics of the act; long after the creator is gone

“how are you with that, my welcomed and dearest AI?”

—animasuri’22

—— -•

References:

https://thewalrus.ca/ai-poetry/?utm_source=pocket-newtab

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/sorry-math-getting-right-answer-philippe-barbe-ph-d-

https://www.linkedin.com/feed/update/urn:li:ugcPost:6930327437612343296?commentUrn=urn%3Ali%3Acomment%3A%28ugcPost%3A6930327437612343296%2C6930441990115344384%29