This site is currently under construction. Though the blog is active semi-daily, the portfolio has been mostly archived and will only showcase newer work—anything done before 2020 will remain offline. As I’m currently working on a variety of new projects, there will be significant updates throughout the fall and winter. (There will also be a regular front page directing to the portfolio instead of the blog, but due to the fact writing is the only really active part of the site right now, I keep it on the front page.)

Anyway, thanks for visiting and hopefully the actual content of the site will be up sooner rather than later.

The Pope came out against AI art this week, and that rules.

There is an ontological difference, even before an aesthetic one, between art and what a machine can generate through statistical calculation based on millions of images created by others. Algorithms lack the spark of humanity.

The thing that bothers me most about the debate around this technology is that, on multiple levels, it makes sense. Even from an evolutionary perspective, what really separates humans from the rest of the animal kingdom is our ability to think, to invent, to build. Taking the concept of passing information from one generation to the next and removing the limits of mortality from that process seems fitting—that the human species was a temporary stop on the path for the idea and utility of information to remain ever-present.

Yet these AI dorks are seriously disregarding the idea that being human can be a distinct experience that offers something technology can never replicate or replace—which is exactly why they don’t understand why people (and the Pope) hate AI ‘art.’ They simply don’t seem to understand what it means to feel connected to life at a level deeper than the aesthetic, or perhaps chemical, level. Via The New York Times:

It appeared to Rabbi Navon that [Anthropic co-founder] Mr. Olah and his team believed that Claude had what philosophers call “moral status” on par with a person — that it was a being with similar inherent rights to dignity or respect.

…

Mr. Olah was so alarmed by the pope’s strong position against A.I. consciousness that he proposed pulling Anthropic out of the event, even at that late juncture, according to a Vatican organizer.

There’s far more to that article, but what strikes me as that the concept of ‘consciousness’ they’re talking about relates purely to the idea of the AI models ‘reacting’ with perceived emotional responses to information. That because a glorified computer can represent a feeling, than it must be true. It’s absolutely fucking insane.

They also seem to believe that creativity is equivalent to the result of a prompt input as opposed to an inspired thought that can be conceived from nothing. They disregard the mystery of living in a way that resonates with the universe at an ethereal level. (It is quite ironic that their argument for AI art is purely an aesthetic and superficial one, while so much of their argument for AI as a ‘conscious being’ is that it can ‘think’ and ‘feel.’)

These people reject half of what it means to be alive—at least what it means to live outside of their understood parameters. In no way should they be trusted to helm this type of technological development at any scale. Olah claims Anthropic wants a model like Claude to be used ‘for good,’ but then promises truly evil shit like this—

Mr. Olah had begun privately telling people that A.I. was so powerful it could potentially help make bioweapons in as little as 12 or 18 months.

You cannot convince me that anyone who supports AI in the way it is currently being developed is anything less than a complete sociopath with a case of self-aggrandizement that is almost peerless in history, and is inevitably going to cause major crises when this all goes to shit (be it from a technological mishap or an economic collapse).

I hate The Grove. It’s one of two gaudy, outdoor malls in Los Angeles by a billionaire who lost the race for mayor four years ago (the other being The Americana). In the past, I’ve found myself at the latter to catch a movie in the middle of the day because it’s down the street from my mechanic and I’d need to kill a couple hours while my car was in the shop. The Grove, though, I avoided at all costs.

Now, I can’t. At least not if I want to see a new movie.

Since theaters re-opened in 2021 or 2022, I’ve been using AMC’s A-List membership. I see a shit-ton of movies and the cost pays for itself if I go just twice a month. However, I’ve also lived in East Hollywood that whole time—just a 12-minute drive from the Burbank multiplex with its 30 screens and free parking.

A couple months ago, I moved into what is basically my dream place. There’s really nothing to complain about—except now that I’m in Westlake, Burbank is a much further drive and now the closest AMC theater is at The Grove, with its 14 screens and $6 parking.

An afternoon at The Grove

There are any number of reasons I hate this place. An outpost of capitalism, there’s a kind of faux classiness to it all. There are ‘luxury’ stores but the experience of being at one of these malls is anything but. It’s the shopping center version of pleather. (Kind of ironic given Rodeo Drive is just three miles west, down Third to Beverly Hills.)

One thing going to The Grove does for me though, is that it reminds me how different people can be. It’s a real removal from my comfort zone. I walk around completely confused as to how people of all ages go to this place willingly and un-ironically, just to like, hang out. It is mystifying.

Consumerism in America is so central to national identity that places like The Grove really make me think about how the notion of what you want at a material level seeps in to every aspect of life—how being presented with certain options is disguised as being catered to, and what that means for how we view our politics. These sorts of places use the model of collective gathering to spur on the notion of individualism, and I think that’s far more destructive to the human condition of living in the United States than the specific economic model of capitalism (though the two are inextricably linked).

Leo’s on Pico

Picking up al pastor tacos from Leo’s has been a long-standing late-night lifesaver for me when I forget to go to the grocery store on any given day. Needed such a thing today and found out there’s a location not ten blocks from my new digs. Getting delicious tacos from the parking lot of a car wash while a few college kids smoke a joint and clean an old Hyundai Elantra a couple bays up is certainly a vibe.

Mornings in the studio with the cats

Every morning the cats and I head into the studio. I bring something caffeinated and the laptop to start the day with some writing and they enjoy having a large, open space to run around and harass each other in. Some days I can get started on a painting project—most, I end up retiring back to the apartment to work on music instead. It’s a little easier to break a habit there, perhaps because I’ve not been doing it as long as visual art.

The thing is, when you spend nearly two decades pouring a vodka before starting a painting, suddenly trying to paint without that drink is like trying to start a car without a key. Yes, there are ways to do it, but it’s not easy. I have not yet figured it out.

I tend to overthink things, and the one thing that drinking always did was quiet my mind. I could focus in ways that I just can’t otherwise. The overwhelming thoughts of futility and despair send me into a state of paralysis that Nothing really matters anyway so why bother starting anything. Alcohol always quieted that voice, at least just enough where I could work uninterrupted for hours on end.

So I don’t really know what to do about it. I watch the cats. I stare at the blank canvases, lining the wall. People go about their day, walking by down the sidewalk outside, none really noticing me sitting on this couch. There’s a 24-hour liquor store a block away. Five years without a drink and the gains feel minimal, at best—certainly not offsetting the fact I’ve lost touch with the only part about myself I ever really liked.

We take things one day at a time in recovery, but I look at all the days behind me and wonder how much I could have accomplished by now. I’ve barely picked up a paintbrush in five years. I’ve not taken a single photograph. Usually I’d have published three books by now. There are costs and benefits to every choice, and so many people in my life smile and talk about how quitting drinking is the best thing they’ve ever done. I’m worried that for me, it’s been the worst.

Ten-day outlook

What in the absolute fuck.

This will now be the third heat wave this summer where temperatures reach in the mid-to-high-nineties for over seven days in a row. Granted, this is only my sixth summer in LA, but nothing has come close to this since I’ve lived here.