Exploring and Evaluating Generative AI Number Five – Kickback and Compromise…

It is 18 months since my last essay exploring AI back in 2023 and there have been many developments since then – certainly more and more people, from poets of my acquaintance to businesses, have explored and made use of AI in one form or another and the industry is full of startups offering AI solutions in all sorts of areas such as creating training videos in which you prime the AI with the content you want delivered and the AI concocts slides with a voiceover or even a fully imagined video trainer to articulate your training needs.

Public awareness has continued to grow, the alarm over AI taking away jobs, or taking over the world and eradicating humans is perhaps less hysterical and the debate more focused. One way in which this is happening is that writers and artists have challenged the AI companies for the currently unregulated and voracious use of their (the creatives) material in training the AI’s LLM’s or Large Language Models. These are the vast bodies of existing work, written and visual, that are fed to AI’s and from which they both learn and plagiarise when prompted to generate an image or a piece of writing “in the style of”. When I first started exploring Generative AI, these ethical battlelines were not so apparent. Still, now we must seriously consider the ethical questions raised by how we choose to use AI – especially when we reference existing artwork or literature. You may feel that the damage is already done, the genie already out of the bottle and that there is no point in bolting the stable door after the horse has bolted, but the laws need changing to protect the copywriter issues advanced by creatives and perhaps there will emerge a statute of limitations so that older work, out of copywrite is usable whilst currently, copyrighted material is either out of bounds or attracts a fee for the use of… Below is an illustration I tried and purely for experiment, I asked for it to be “in the style of” Studio Ghibli – a Japanese animation studio based in Koganei, Tokyo. The exact prompt was “Alice in Wonderland at the Court of the Red Queen in the style of studio ghibli directed by Hayao Miyazaki

As you can see, Alice is there, in a dining room sumptuous enough to be that of the Red Queen but there are no other characters present and the AI (Midjourney) has become fixated on the Fly Agaric toadstools that Alice found the hookah-smoking Caterpillar sitting on. Does this image owe much to Studi Ghibli and Director Hayao Miyazaki – it certainly could be an animation style – I don’t know his work well enough – I just saw the style in a list of things you could prompt AI with and decided to experiment – but the fact that the AI recognised the name of Studio Ghibli means that it was trained, at some point, by looking at the studio’s work…

So I have decided, for three reasons, to be more circumspect about my use of “in the style of”. Firstly out of fairness to current creatives, secondly because it remains as difficult as ever to get AI to produce the image exactly as you have in your mind’s eye, and lastly I have made less use of AI images to accompany poems – in part because the brilliance of them, not only illustrates the poem but threatens to eclipse or distract from it. However, whilst I am a competent artist in some respects, I am not an illustrator with a wide range of drawing skills and so below, I am going to show you the blend of AI-generated image elements and their combination in PhotoShop to arrive at an image I had in mind for a commissioned illustration. My friend Melissa Lemay, is launching an online journal called Collaborature to showcase collaborative poems and works of literature as well as interviews with authors – she sent me her mission statement and gave me carte blanche to produce an illustration for the launch…

My idea is to have a woman absorbed in reading a book with a “thought bubble” rising up into a night sky showing the moon, and a rocket on it’s way to the moon – all inspired by her reading…

To begin with, I decided on a black-and-white illustration with “drawn” elements combined, which made it slightly easier to achieve consistency. Firstly I wanted a young woman but drawn “in the style of” the E.H.Shepard illustration from “Now We Are Six” by A.A. Milne. – or rather, I wanted her in the pose below, which is not quite the same thing…

The results below, despite what I thought to be a very detailed prompt describing the young woman, her clothes and her pose, was not right…

Black and white line drawing of a young woman wearing a sleeveless dress with hemline just above the knee lying on her stomach elbows stretched out and head supported by hands reading a book propped up in front of her legs bent at the knee and bent upwards in the style of E.H.Shepard

Cetainly I think the style has little to do with A.H.Shepard and in the lower left picture, the young woman, far from being excited, her imagination fired by reading, has fallen asleep! I tried making variations but nothing worked any better so I then decided to try for a picture of a young girl instead and got the result below.

Black and white line drawing of a young girl wearing a sleeveless mini-dress with hemline just above the knee lying flat on her stomach head supported by hands reading a book propped up in front of her legs bent back and over her knees in the style of E.H.Shepard

Once again we have a sleeping beauty, but I decided I could accept the top left image. Next I wanted to have a thought bubble form the girl, featuring a rocket to the moon inspired in the girl’s imagination, by her reading. I was remembering the Moon face in the 1902 film A Trip to the Moon (French: Le voyage dans la lune) by pioneer film director Georges Méliès.

And so I used the prompt “Black and white line drawing of moon against a black background in the style of Georges Melies” to obtain this:-

Nothing like George Melies’ image so no qualms about using the quite straight forward “drawing-style” moon. Next to a rocket, and I have always loved the rocket (was it inspired by the German V2 rockets?) from The Adventures of Tintin, the comics series by Belgian cartoonist Hergé.

And so using this prompt “Black and white rocket against a dark grey background in the style of Tintin Explorers on the Moon” I obtained these images from Midjourney.

Once again, I don’t think the similarity of the rockets warrants the term plagiarism so much as “inspired by…” and I was happy to go with the bottom right image.

Now that I had all the elements, it was time to start assembling them in Adobe PhotoShop – this process is essentially like building a collage except that you can go back and work on each layer ad infinitum, resizing, adjusting the tones, cropping etc. even rearranging the order of the layers – so what hides what…

Having decided on the size and proportion of the Background, I placed the girl before adding a Gradient layer for the night sky. Then, having pasted multiple copies of the Mission Statement text, I placed a text layer in white text so that it fades out at the bottom of the picture but is readable against the black of the sky. I then brought the girl to the front again as the white letters were going over her.

The white letters looked too strong so I increased their transparency to tone them down. Next I added the thought bubbles giving them white edges to stand out and then placed the moon into the large bubble.

I could have added the rocket within the thought bubble, like the moon, but I thought it added to the portrayal of the act of imagination if it came from outside the thought bubble – as if it had come from a different bubble perhaps… Lastly, the rocket looked too static and so I added some “motion streaks” to complete the picture.

So there you have it – each element of the picture was produced by Midjourney generative AI, yet I could never have got an AI to see and conform to the design I had in mind and so I had to assemble them in the way I wanted, after the event and this is one way in which I think AI can be used to aid the graphic designer – after all, collage of existing print material is a very old tradition…

Yule Log

The
shepherd
Attis who
killed himself
for shame because the
Goddess Cybelle forbade
him to look at anyone
other than her – but he was weak
– lay with a nymph – died beneath a pine
Cybelle brought him back to life, now faithful
– pine log
now holy…

Andrew Wilson, 2024

Attis died by castrating himself beneath a pine tree following the awful wrath of Cybelle, a Roman Goddess of Fertility whereupon she had a change of heart and brought him back to life – needless to say he did not stray again… But this myth was celebrated by Romans (strange but true) by the bearing of a Pine log through the streets – Pines now being sacred to Attis. Christianity often subsumed old festivals into itself and this is one possible origin of the Yule Log…
I wrote more about it here.

Over at dVerse Poets Pub,  Laura Bloomsbury in Meeting the Bar: Critique and Craft asks us to write an  Etheree poem about

Christmas tree(s) imagery, meanings, memories etc

or Conifer/Fir tree(s) imagery, mythology, memories etc

  • must be an unrhymed poem
  • no specific meter
  • one stanza only
  • 10 lines with no paragraphs
  • graduating from 1 to 10 syllables
  • [add lines 11 & 12 with just 2 syllables per line – my optional extra]

Thus the first line is monosyllabic; the second line has two syllables, and so on, until there’s ten syllables on the tenth line (then reverts to 2 syllables for lines 11 & 12 if you want this optional extra). The outline of your poem takes the concrete shape of a fir tree. Centre it on the page else left or right aligned it’s only half a tree! (X=syllables not words)

Does Magic Believe in Us?

If a man dies never having described
the magical experience he once had
does it mean the magic never happened

Magic is not the same as conjuring
which is a trick, usually sleight of hand
though a trick of the light may be magical…

“There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s where the light gets in”
sang Leonard Cohen with a voice so low it may count as magic

Counting off the things on your bucket list
you may miss the magic
you never thought to list

Thinking about magic you have experienced
you may be in danger of dissecting
it to death and why would you not just accept

Accepting the existence of magic
is a personal prerogative
one person’s magic is another’s commonplace

Magic can happen any place
any time
to anyone

I believe in magic
but not magicians
or ghosts

I defend the rights of others
to believe in ghosts, and
to share what magic means to them

Magic, like love – just is
it cannot be reasoned or conjured up
though you may set the scene for it to manifest

The manifestation of magic
cannot be forced
but only prepared for in receptivity

The reception of magic is easy for children
but what they achieve easily
we struggle to hold onto with age

A life may well be weighed
by the amount of magic
we have observed to be…

Perhaps the real question to be asked
is not whether you believe in magic
but whether magic believes in you…

© Andrew Wilson, 2024

An image created using Midjourney, of a certain magician…

https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/1942511719&color=%23ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&show_teaser=true&visual=true

Over at dVerse Poets Pub, msjadeli in OpenLinkNight, invites us to submit a poem and since we are, in Lisa’s words “just a week away from the spookiness of All Hallow’s Eve”, I have chosen one that references magic and ghosts…

I wrote this in my writing group in the shadow of “Belief in Magic” by Dean Young.

Hell’s Bells…

Hell’s bells and buckets of bloody blood!
My mother used to say
and after Australia
she said it every day

It used to be
just Hell’s bells and buckets of blood
but bloody was a word oft heard
in the land of Oz you see

Hell’s bells—an apt description
for news now from everywhere
it would have given her conniptions
were she still here

Hell, I’d even use the cuss she bequeathed me
except I don’t accept religious geography
and know that Hell is here on Earth
and not some seven circled place beneath

Hell’s bells – the cuss abbreviated
hardly reflects the place we’ve come to
climate change, genocidal wars
from decency and democracy we’ve deviated

Hell’s bells and buckets of blood
for greater impact
our world is in the toilet
and that’s a fact

So still I hear my mother’s voice
raised in exasperation
uttering her curse of choice
Hell’s bells and buckets of bloody blood!

© Andrew Wilson, 2024

Over at dVerse Poets Pub, dorahak in Poetics inspires us with a very fulsome prompt, to write using repetition as a poetic tool…

Autumn Colours – not just for show…

Is there anyone who does not love the display of Autumn colours that nature puts on each year if you live in the latitudes where deciduous trees flourish? A love that is, tempered by the knowledge of the meaning which this colourful transformation signals – the end of Summer and the advent of Winter – only young children are blissfully unaware of the message and thoughtlessly kick their way through the ever-deepening piles of fallen leaves.
The change begins on the edge of some leaves on a certain side of some trees and gradually creeps across the entire tree, to be joined at differing rates and with subtly different palettes by other species until whole stands of woodland are ablaze save for the odd patch of evergreens. But this extravagant show, which has us humans travelling to see its most spectacular examples, is not some random quirk of nature, but a necessary part of the plant’s process – one without which the trees would not survive the coming cold of Winter. The green, chlorophyll-filled engine of energy conversion which is a leaf, exchanging liquid food from the tree and using sunlight to power the tree, now switches its production to producing a kind of anti-freeze which the tree reabsorbs into its twigs, branches and trunk to protect itself against frost damage. Once each leaf has done its job, sucked dry by its parent, it shrivels and falls to the ground where it will rot down and feed the tree through its roots and complete the cycle of its life but the byproduct of its transformation in Autumn is a breathtaking, spectacular, partial rainbow from yellow to rich reds…

Autumn colours show

as leaves transform their sap to

save the tree from frost

© Andrew Wilson, 2024

Over at dVerse Poets Pub, Frank J. Tassone in Haibun Monday invites us to celebrate Autumn colours and the passage of the seasons…

The Witches of Washington…

The image above is from the Los Angeles Times Photographic Collection.

The greatest feat of the Washington Witches Coven was to remain in plain sight as this rare photograph from the 1960’s reveals. Gathered together outside the premises of their leader, a veterinarian by trade, the members of the coven are each accompanied by their witches’ familiars – black cats each and every one of them. In any other age, such an unprecedented number of black cats in one place would undoubtedly have rung alarm bells and resulted in a witch-hunt, but this group of fashionably dressed (for middle-aged women) were merely perceived as slaves to the growing trend of pets as fashionable accessories and their predilection for felines of a noir colouring, merely a fashionable affectation.

Under the election and presidentship of renowned misogynist Donald Trump, the words “witch-hunt” found renewed currency, though not, ironically, in connection with actual witches! By now a little more discreet in their public gatherings, the Washington Coven played their part in fighting the menace of arse-trumpeting but just as all right minded people had been staggered by the election of the great, orange baby, so too, the matrons and even the younger members of the coven had found themselves wrong-footed and at a loss as to how best to combat the orange menace. The audacity of Trump madness fuelling false news such as baby-eating, paedophile rings operating behind Pizza restaurant fronts, beggared belief! By the time the coven were getting their ducks in a row, lining up the most potent spells to use on His Orangeness, he failed to be re-elected and a huge celebration ensued under full moon in the Washington Woods and much debate was had about the extent to which the power of the coven’s spells had contributed to the orange downfall.

But Trump is back, once again riling up his base with the same tired tropes about “draining the Washington swamp” – if only he knew the real powers ranged against him… Go! Black Cats!

This was written for Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction #FFFC

Revolutionary Laughing

I read a book by
a Serbian revolutionary
sharing his experience
of nonviolent action
to bring down dictators
and even military juntas
his greatest tool – laughter
poking fun utterly defeats them
imagine trumpety-Trump
the big, inflated, orange baby
wouldn’t he just hate it…

© Andrew Wilson, 2024

Over at dVerse Poets Pub, Mish in Poetics invites us to write about laughter and since I have little time before work, and as I am getting into the whole Quadrille thing, I have written something in just 44 words.
As a child, one of our favourite records to come on the radio, because it inexorably activated our audio mirror brain cells and had us giddily joining in – I give you “The Laughing Policeman” by Charles Jolly/Penrose…

Oh, and the book – Blueprint for Revolution, by Srdja Popovic

Alone Is the Star I Follow

alone is the star I follow. In love & in solitude
 – from February & my love is in another state – by José Olivarez

to live with the one you love
Is to immerse one’s self
in the illusion of not being alone

but alone we truly are
Coming into, leaving &
passing through the life of this world

so when illness, short of death
physical or mental, intrudes
we are shocked by our solitude

reminded we are alone even
in the presence of the other
and all the constructed togetherness

house, history and family
are all props in the play
& all of us but strolling players

not to disrespect the construct
which is our way of fighting entropy
creating meaning amongst disorder

we weave our fabric and let our flags
flutter in the winds of vicissitude
for friends and family to rally round

but in. the end, we are all
fallen soldiers in a battle
that nobody can win

Take the timely reminders
of essential solitude
to wrap your flag more tightly

around you & your loves
and Reaffirm the meanings
you choose to fight for…

© Andrew Wilson, 2024

Over at dVerse Poets Pub, Punam – paeansunplugged in OpenLinkNight offers us the chance to post a poem of our choice. This is one from my writing group after discussing and writing in the shadow of “February & my love is in another state” – by José Olivarez

Breaking News and Hearts…

Breaking news and hearts
he’d waited all his life to see the Northern Lights
and when they finally shimmered – he slept through it

Breaking news and hearts
he was her Pole Star
and without him she lost all direction

Breaking news and hearts
the last Polar bear had
no Arctic ice to hunt upon

Breaking news and hearts
she broke the mirror her grandmother
smuggled beyond the reach of the Holocaust

Breaking news and hearts
the baby drove the boy away
and not surely into her arms

Breaking news and hearts
a premmie did not heroically make it
as the movies teach us to expect

Breaking news and hearts
the dead in Gaza top forty thousand
and Zion still hasn’t had its pound of flesh

Breaking news and hearts
another little babe is born
somewhere under the stars…

© Andrew Wilson, 2024

Created in Midjourney

Over at dVerse Poets Pub, Melissa Lemay in Uncategorized invites us to write Zeugmatically. The word zeugma is defined by Merriam-Webster as “a figure of speech in which a word applies to two others in different senses”. 

Memento Mori

When my mother died
I did not succumb to grief
rather the opposite, it was relief

I wanted to be overwhelmed
to demonstrate a filial flow of tears
dry eyes triumphed over social fears

The truth is her life was set in aspic
the repertoire of stories repeatedly told
the only objects I would have valued, long ago sold

So if I imagine that feeling as a place
it is a saccharine sitting room
as stuck and unchanging as a tomb

I carried bits of it away to remind me
a group of disparate ducks now grace my bookshelf
tiny, sculptural memento mori – notes to self

that she was gone and feeling ended
long before the final breath was drawn
and being now the eldest, I entered a new dawn…

© Andrew Wilson, 2024

Over at dVerse Poets Pub, Punam invites us to write about Grief – paeansunplugged in Poetics. My poem is about grief long dissolved before the loss itself and I hope I will not be judged harshly for it…