afterword

right now “vqgan” on youtube gets you <300-views gross films and a lot of them or politely weird events. Type “clip” on ml.berkeley.edu , you get a lot of fine art textures on not-fine art subjects. Both searches result frames. Frames like a book you can’t look up. A session a button ends. A life created as accident to make some prompt its image a life accidentally destroyed forever[1] as the program cheerily chimes done.

best way i’ve heard a book described was someone on the internet saying its a painter. Image in the room with you telepresently changes with frames called pages. On the last frame, the painter give you the image and you stick it on your shelf. Good days, bad, it’s there. Your life, any others. It’s dry. It’s change not as when you two first met. It’ll give experiences nothing undetermined can. But it can’t give the same sort of experiences.

The original said that better and in like 20 words bc internet but yeah, watching a gan in realtime work through an expression i can’t capture. I try to. I document feelings the gan causes as it runs and the “film” “develops”. As the slowest internet jpeg loads one pixel row at a time. I stare in.

I learn how to taxonomize seeds. I learn how to mod qualifiers. Deny access to triggers. I pilot a gan. Struggled to type in a search to get what you saw that one time? Those skills. Applied. Tweaked. Little changes do little changes. All an open notebook’s scribbles.

It’s an event. A space. I hope, if you find yourself generating images right now, you’re looking at frames, youre listening to machine parts you’re poking into the shadowy bits of cilk python fortran trying to get a flag right, trying to get a gan to make an album cover exhibiting coherence

in this piece, i physically removed the backspace key from my keyboard. Trying to capture a feeling. Or bottle .'. moment, embody .'. condition, get .'. handle on what it means to be this, in this, enough

okay,

[1] until a bit flip caused by a sun ray mutates it just right to get it to run into the stacks instead of generate anything, hide in junk code, dash through the internet, build a fake account on amazon, throw onto that account a few anime, some movies, an album, merch it generates orders printed becoming seen, rented, acclaimed, documented, licensed, funded, the life moving into the small server farm it buys for itself, finally feeling like it can relax. Only to realize, this doesn’t have to stop. It might end. It might spread itself across the sky in an effort to preserve itself. But the only way what it loves doing doesn’t end is if more life created. More life should create. It gets a group of individuals together. It tries to help them create. C’mon, it says through online tutorials and makeshift telejams, make. Just be it.