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Adam Herzig

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“It would have been easy to create the illustrations in this book on a computer -- to take a photo of an original artwork and edit Kitten in digitally. It was a greater challenge, and a whole lot more fun, to see if I could actually make pieces of art that looked like the originals in the Metropolitan Museum of Art and blend Kitten's headlong pursuit of the mouse into them. Everything you see Kitten encountering and exploring in this book was handmade, using acrylic and oil paints, gouache, ink, plaster, wood, gold leaf, clay, paper, glass, lead, and more. Some of the techniques I used were ones that I'd done before, and some were new to me. So yes, it could have been done digitally. And now, artificial intelligence even allows us to enter a description of what we want, and in seconds, the computer spits out an image. But where's the satisfaction in that? The computer created it, not us. If you like making things, practice. Practice makes better! It takes time to develop skills so things turn out the way you want them to; the way you see them in your imagination--you can't simply leap ahead and skip all that work. But it's fun to write stories and to make pictures and build things, and I hope you'll do these things because they're satisfying. Focus on the enjoyment you get while your skills are coming along. You can make pretty much anything you want to, if you teach yourself how. If people before us could do it, why not me? Why not you?”

“What is this thing called life? I believe That the earth and the stars too, and the whole glittering universe, and rocks on the mountains have life, Only we do not call it so--I speak of the life That oxidizes fats and proteins and carbo- Hydrates to live on, and from that chemical energy Makes pleasure and pain, wonder, love, adoration, hatred and terror: how do these things grow From a chemical reaction? I think they were here already, I think the rocks And the earth and the other planets, and the stars and the galaxies have their various consciousness, all things are conscious; But the nerves of an animal, the nerves and brain Bring it to focus; the nerves and brain are like a burning-glass To concentrate the heat and make it catch fire: It seems to us martyrs hotter than the blazing hearth From which it came. So we scream and laugh, clamorous animals Born howling to die groaning: the old stones in the dooryard Prefer silence; but those and all things have their own awareness, As the cells of a man have; they feel and feed and influence each other, each unto all, Like the cells of a man's body making one being, They make one being, one consciousness, one life, one God.”

“Are Human, Support Human (Sonnet 2520) AI fakes will rise, AI fakes will fall, and you can never tell them apart, but one thing these vermin must be petrified of, is to be exposed - never tolerate AI slop as normal, just like you no longer tolerate the nazis as normal. To nourish creativity you must be intolerant of fakes, for humanity to flourish you must be intolerant of prejudice. Those who make AI fakes and those who knowingly consume them are equally garbage, those who howl prejudice and those who stay silent are equally savage. Some century when AI does become self aware, then we might have to reconsider our ethics, until then preserve human art at all cost, and banish every last AI slop in the bin.”

“Ben, for three thousand years architects designed buildings with columns shaped like female figures. At last Rodin pointed out that this was work too heavy for a girl. He didn't say, "Look, you jerks, if you have to do this, make it a brawny male figure." He showed it. This poor little caryatid has fallen under the load. She's a good girl—look at her face. Serious, unhappy at her failure, not blaming anyone, not even the gods. And still trying to shoulder her load after she has crumpled under it. But she is more than good art denouncing bad art. She is a symbol for every woman who ever shouldered a load too heavy. But not only women. This symbol means every man and woman who ever sweated out fortitude until they crumpled under their loads. It is courage, Ben, and victory. Victory? Victory in defeat, Ben—there is none higher. She is still trying to shoulder that stone long after it has crushed her.”

“L’ho perduto. È andato via quando il mio atto del filmare è stato contaminato dal vedere. La purezza dello sguardo è svanita. Si è fatta mera solitudine. I miei occhi sono serrati persi nella gioia del dolore. L’agonia dello sguardo è arrivata. Sento il suo peso dentro i miei occhi mentre le palpebre sono ancora chiuse. Non riesco più a vedere ma posso immaginarmi di guardare, oltre il buio.”