Lizard from Rollercoaster Tycoon 3: Wild

@theartofmadeline
The Stonewall Inn

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Lizard from Rollercoaster Tycoon 3: Wild

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đŞ
i am the brown poet i longed to be written about by;
and iâm going to do Little Heart JUSTICE
JUSTICE
JUSTICE
Thereâs no justice without equality. Thereâs no justice without equal opportunity. Thereâs no justice without scholars that still have HEART-
another fantastic discovery: i donât need to read more than a sentence in those books i want to but donât have the time to read

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Imagine the level of whimsy I could reach if I just had $5M in my bank account rn
happy international cat day from me and my creature â¤ď¸
Lizard from Rollercoaster Tycoon 3: Wild
Purple moths
Colpophyllia natans â close-up of a brain coral colony, its maze-like ridges and polyp texture

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Close up photography of various types of coral
under lake huron // kincardine, canada // june 2005 // Š
Some wide angle shots I took back in the start of May. It was the transition of seasons and introduction of new palettes.
Some juvenile fish (unknown species) taking shelter in the bell of a blubber jellyfish. Good luck little guys... Grow up strong and healthy...

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Is ai âartâ really art? Nope. The word art, or something like it, has been w us humans for a long time, going all the way back to proto-indo-european, which is the âlanguageâ (technically language family) most of the European languages came from, including your Latin and after that your French, and it is from that French, early in the 13th century that we import this specific word âartâ in English, which referred to any sort of thing that you need practice to masterâso weâre thinking more along the lines of a craftsman than a decorative painter, but remember that back in the day, the work of master craftsmen was incredibly detailed and beautiful. And that would indeed by a work⌠of art.
By the time we get into the 14th century, art is entirely associated w human workmanship, as opposed to the beauty of the natural world, and so it has remained. Ainât nobody declaring a blossoming flower or a particularly symmetrical tree a work of art, at least not literally. Art has always been a culmination and celebration of the human sensory experience. The process of creation is inherent in the product.
Only recently, weâve come to think of art as simply the productâthe picture or story someone wants. This comes from the same genre of thinking that produces the middle-aged man who will stand in front of an abstract painting in a museum and declare that his toddler coulda painted that. In his mind, itâs just a few splatters on a canvas, random, devoid of meaning. Splat swipe. My toddler coulda done that. Then you learn what it symbolizes and you look at it anew and you realize that no, your toddler does not have the ability to summon up an emotional response to a few brush strokes, unless ofc those brush strokes are applying paint to say a cherished heirloom or the stove or the cat.
The idea that a computer program could actually come anywhere near replicating the human experience is laughableâdo you have any idea how much âdataâ your brain processes all day every day, even when youâre asleep? Your senses are import jacks that never shut off. You wouldnât wake up if they did.
There is nothing beautiful, or beneficial, or even relevant to the human condition that is devoid of emotionâleast of all anything that would qualify as art. Folks have spent thousands of years debating the meaning of life and Iâm not saying I have the answer to that question (but perhaps itâs 42), but Iâm certain it at least touches and concerns our unending capacity to feel some way abt literally every fucking thing, and that any attempt to ignore or squash down that capacity is an utter denial of what it means to be human.
And yet weâve prioritized STEM education over everything else. Weâve dismissed the arts as mere hobbies, as something you might do for fun in your ever-dwindling âfreeâ time. We equate humanities degrees w jobs flipping burgers or slinging coffee. The fact that anyone even thought a machine could be programmed to create art is a testament to the systemic and systematic degradation of the humanities. And yet if you ask anyone to talk abt their favorite memories, thereâs likely some kind of art, and a lot of emotion, wrapped up in that. The things we value the most as humans are the things society values the least.
The truth is we need artists, now more than ever. We need thinkers. An idea isnât a product to be commodifiedâitâs a spark to be shared. The tech bros desperately want you to aspire to something beyond humanity. They want you to believe that emotions are weak and dirty, that compassion is naive and empathy is a sinâyouâll be better off without those things, bro, just trust me bro. They want to paper over their underdeveloped emotional intelligence by asserting itâs not important.
Your mind and your body arenât separate things. Unfortunately our language doesnât really accommodate that, but without your body, without your nervous system and your senses, your âmindâ would not have a fucking thing to think abt. When ppl lose one or more of their senses, other senses often heighten. Your brain craves that stimulation, that âdata.â Itâs that data your brain uses to have thoughts and feelings, which you can then pour out into creative expression if youâre so inclined, into stories and songs and pictures and dances. The large language models that âaiâ uses to regurgitate some semblance of âartâ provide that data to the machine and yes, the machine will get better at replicating human output and yes, the machine will continue to feed on thefted human art. But what happens when there are no longer humans creating new art to feed the machine? Youâre already seeing the answer to this question, as artists start locking down their work and removing images from the internet that might be stolen and used for the machine. The work becomes a pale derivative of itself, at the same time exponentially increasing its unreality. The machine doesnât feel, therefore the machine cannot express feelings, which is everything art really is.
For as long as weâve used the word âart,â it has always required people. So is ai âartâ really art? Nope. Might call it âfartâ for the way it stinks up the joint, or âpartâ because it canât replicate the entirety of human expression, or âwartâ for how itâs a malignant blot on humanity, but save âartâ for work that bleeds.
Is ai âartâ really art? Nope. The word art, or something like it, has been w us humans for a long time, going all the way back to proto-indo-european, which is the âlanguageâ (technically a language family) most of the European languages came from, including your Latin and after that your French, and it is from early in the 13th century that we get this specific word âartâ in English, which referred to any sort of thing that you need practice to masterâso weâre thinking more along the lines of a craftsman than a decorative painter, but remember that back in the day, the work of master craftsmen was incredibly detailed and beautiful. And that would indeed by a work⌠of art.
By the time we get into the 14th century, art is entirely associated w human workmanship, as opposed to the beauty of the natural world, and so it has remained. Ainât nobody declaring a blossoming flower or a particularly symmetrical tree a work of art, at least not literally. Art has always been a culmination and celebration of the human sensory experience. The process of creation is inherent in the product.
Only recently, weâve come to think of art as simply the productâthe picture or story someone wants. This comes from the same genre of thinking that produces the middle-aged man who will stand in front of an abstract painting in a museum and declare that his toddler coulda painted that. In his mind, itâs just a few splatters on a canvas, random, devoid of meaning. Splat swipe. My toddler coulda done that. Then you learn what it symbolizes and you look at it anew and you realize that no, your toddler does not have the ability to summon up an emotional response to a few brush strokes, unless ofc those brush strokes are applying paint to say a cherished heirloom or the stove or the cat.
The idea that a computer program could actually come anywhere near replicating the human experience is laughableâdo you have any idea how much âdataâ your brain processes all day every day, even when youâre asleep? Your senses are import jacks that never shut off. You wouldnât wake up if they did.
There is nothing beautiful, or beneficial, or even relevant to the human condition that is devoid of emotionâleast of all anything that would qualify as art. Folks have spent thousands of years debating the meaning of life and Iâm not saying I have the answer to that question (but perhaps itâs 42), but Iâm certain it at least touches and concerns our unending capacity to feel some way abt literally every fucking thing, and that any attempt to ignore or squash down that capacity is an utter denial of what it means to be human.
And yet weâve prioritized STEM education over everything else. Weâve dismissed the arts as mere hobbies, as something you might do for fun in your ever-dwindling âfreeâ time. We equate humanities degrees w jobs flipping burgers or slinging coffee. The fact that anyone even thought a machine could be programmed to create art is a testament to the systemic and systematic degradation of the humanities. And yet if you ask anyone to talk abt their favorite memories, thereâs likely some kind of art, and a lot of emotion, wrapped up in that. The things we value the most as humans are the things society values the least.
The truth is we need artists, now more than ever. We need thinkers. An idea isnât a product to be commodifiedâitâs a spark to be shared. The tech bros desperately want you to aspire to something beyond humanity. They want you to believe that emotions are weak and dirty, that compassion is naive and empathy is a sinâyouâll be better off without those things, bro, just trust me bro. They want to paper over their underdeveloped emotional intelligence by asserting itâs not important.
Your mind and your body arenât separate things. Unfortunately our language doesnât really accommodate that, but without your body, without your nervous system and your senses, your âmindâ would not have a fucking thing to think abt. When ppl lose one or more of their senses, other senses often heighten. Your brain craves that stimulation, that âdata.â Itâs that data your brain uses to have thoughts and feelings, which you can then pour out into creative expression if youâre so inclined, into stories and songs and pictures and dances. The large language models that âaiâ uses to regurgitate some semblance of âartâ provide that data to the machine and yes, the machine will get better at replicating human output and yes, the machine will continue to feed on thefted human art. But what happens when there are no longer humans creating new art to feed the machine? Youâre already seeing the answer to this question, as artists start locking down their work and removing images from the internet that might be stolen and used for the machine. The work becomes a pale derivative of itself, at the same time exponentially increasing its unreality. The machine doesnât feel, therefore the machine cannot express feelings, which is everything art really is.
For as long as weâve used the word âart,â it has always required people. So is ai âartâ really art? Nope. Might call it âfartâ for the way it stinks up the joint, or âpartâ because it canât replicate the entirety of human expression, or âwartâ for how itâs a malignant blot on humanity, but save âartâ for work that bleeds.