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A common argument against AI creativity is the belief that art requires a unique, magical force unlike any other human skill. The most simplistic arguments focus on the physical tools and processes used (paint/ink/whatever vs. pixels), echoing similar arguments about photography, Photoshop, and probably brushes (“Real artists use their fingers!”). In the 1990s, these morons probably clutched their pearls about writers “cheating” by using spell checkers. Even the mechanical arguments have magical thinking at their core: they claim that new processes or devices aren’t real art because they don’t properly conduct “Muse Sauce” from the artist’s special god-touched brain to the work itself. As soon as someone makes undeniably good art with a new tool, that tool suddenly becomes an acceptable way to spread Muse Sauce. The fact that AI in its current primitive state can already fool some people suggests it has the potential to transmit Muse Sauce—but critics argue that making AI art just requires pushing a button, which surely isn’t enough effort to channel any Muse Sauce into the world.

If anyone knows where to find this magical button that AI opponents insist exists, please let me know. Nearly every AI image I’ve created for public consumption has taken hours of prompting, re-prompting, inpainting, outpainting, and Photoshop editing. That button would save me a ton of time. Even without the magic button, though, all these fine distinctions between what is and isn’t art raise a question: Is Muse Sauce even real, or is the definition of art completely arbitrary? At the risk of spoiling the ending, I’ll tell you right now that it’s the latter. Insisting that art was only possible through some sort of semi-mystical process is one of humanity’s earliest forms of gatekeeping.

Contrary to these myths, everyone who has experienced life as a human knows that art isn’t strange or magical. Humans engage in all sorts of artistic pursuits constantly. It’s second nature to us—most people turn to art in some form, whether doodling, humming, or singing, as a way to relieve boredom. The myth of creativity was invented to separate what we now call “fine art” from the common “folk art” of the unwashed masses. Why did we need this distinction? Because most folk art wasn’t—and still isn’t—considered a commodity, but back in the early days there were a lot of non-inheriting noble sons with a little talent and not much suitability for actual work. Some duke or baron eventually realized that if they could convince people that their worthless third son’s paintings were somehow more special than the signs painted by Lucky the Limner, they might recoup at least what it cost of keeping the little shit alive. The magic angle was perfect for convincing patrons they were serving some higher purpose—which is why patrons still get prestige for supporting artists. The whole scam was made easier by the fact that early in human history, some art was considered a magical act, often restricted to or guided by priests and shamans.

A secondary reason we needed some way to distinguish Muse Sauce-covered art from common crafts is that art is deeply subjective. Even if everyone agrees that one piece of art is better than another, that doesn’t mean we always want to see the “better” one. Case in point: I’ve never seen Citizen Kane, but in college my friends and I watched a Hudson Hawk/The Last Boy Scout double feature at least monthly. We often settle for mediocre art over no art at all, as evidenced by the garbage I watch in my doctor’s waiting room. Without wise arbiters to tell us which art is good or bad, we’d all be watching Kevin James movies and bidding fortunes for Derp Jesus.

Eventually, the patronage system that gatekept “fine art” evolved into The Art World. The key difference is that The Art World isn’t technically limited to the highest social classes. If a commoner attends the right schools and learns the right jargon, they have a chance of breaking in. Even those unwilling or unable to learn Art World norms can become respected artists—but only if they show exceptional talent. These talented but uncultured anomalies are labeled “outsider artists,” suggesting their ability stems from their outsider status (usually mental illness or ethnicity), which explains why neither the art nor artist follows the normal rules for generating and releasing Muse Sauce.

Though the myth of creativity was central to establishing the division between “fine” and “folk” art and creating The Art World, I suspect they’re not even bothering with it anymore. The gates to The Art World are now so securely locked that they needn’t worry about outsider incursions. Since my last brush with anything resembling The Art World was enduring long-winded, pompous show-and-tells in college sculpture class, I can’t say how they’re handling AI. I suspect a few are actually trying to incorporate it into their work, while the rest ignore it, confident they can keep it at bay with jargon and theory. When someone does something impressive with AI, they’ll probably accept it. If it becomes a trend, they’ll create a new version of “outsider art” to mark it as an exception. I just hope they devise a better term this time. I personally like “pixelmancer.”

At this point, I’m not sure anyone who does creative work still believes in Muse Sauce. The Art World doesn’t need it, and as I mentioned in a previous article, I’ve never met anyone who actually does creative work who buys it (though many do use it cynically regarding AI in hopes of constructing their own gates). That basically leaves two groups of people: those with nothing to do with art, and those who want to do art but can’t seem to actually pull it off. The former don’t care whether or not art is magic. For the latter, it’s a convenient way of explaining why they never produce anything—the Muse Sauce just isn’t flowing—which is probably why that group seems to be the loudest opponents of AI.

Even though most arguments against AI are either based on bad information or boil down to “you’re infringing on my specialness,” there is one argument against AI that may have some value. This is the concern that AI will lead to a glut of bad art, kind of like the OGL led to a glut of bad D20 supplements. I think this one has some merits, but, I’m not sure it’s the end of the world. Since what I intended to be a single article on AI is now up to a 3-part series, let’s make it 4 and talk about that next time.

Contest!

I recently released four new T-shirt designs on my Etsy store. One was designed entirely by hand, one was created in Photoshop loosely based on an AI design that didn’t quite work, and two were made mostly by AI with just a few tweaks in Photoshop from me. The first person to correctly identify which is which wins a T-shirt of their choice from The Invisible Market. Here are the designs: