As generative AI technologies like Stable Diffusion, MidJourney, and Suno continue to evolve, we find ourselves at a pivotal juncture in the history of creativity. These tools, capable of producing art, music, and written works in seconds, have democratized creative processes that once required years of training and collaboration. But with this unprecedented power comes profound questions about the nature of creativity, innovation, and what it means to make art in an AI-driven era.
In Philip K. Dick’s short story Stability, written in 1947 but published decades later, envisions a world locked in a state of unyielding perfection called “Stability”. In this meticulously ordered society, progression has halted; innovation, whether in art or science, is staunchly repressed by authoritative forces. A set of stringent regulations ensures the preservation of this unaltered state, banning any relics or ideas from the past or speculative future to maintain the present's constancy.
Interestingly, although there's likely no direct connection, it's intriguing to note that Stability AI, a major player in the generative AI arena known for developing Stable Diffusion, opted for a name that echoes this theme. The parallel between Dick's narrative of shaping a stable, controlled reality from the tumultuous and the undefined, and Stability AI's aim of generating coherent images from noise, is thematically fascinating.
AI democratized creativity, allowing virtually anyone to craft remarkable works of art, literature, and soon potentially entire movies or songs, without “traditional” expertise in these domains. This democratization brings us to a pivotal moment, akin to reaching a destination of sorts. I find it increasingly challenging to envision what the future holds in term of innovation. Are we on the cusp of an era reminiscent of Dick's "Stability"?
And if such a society dawns, who will challenge the norms once "Stability" takes hold?
I was having a quick discussion recently on Linkedin alking about AI photography. It suddenly dawned on me that perhaps the term "photography" is somewhat antiquated for such avant-garde technology. After all, "photography" implies writing or recording with light (photons) —hardly a fitting description for the wonders of generative AI.
Tools like Midjourney, DALL-E, and Stable Diffusion essentially materialize the intangible. Hence, the label "generative AI”. But it falls short somehow, lacking the coolness of a good old greek-based word.
I thus propose a new nomenclature: Nephelegraphy.
This term draws inspiration from Nephele, the cloud goddess in Greek mythology. Nephele was a cloud, but Zeus decided to use it to generate an image of Hera in order to deceive Ixion. Interestingly, this ancient tale mirrors the essence of our modern tool: crafting vivid, lifelike images from the 'clouds' of digital noise.
Nephelegraphy aptly captures the fusion of art, technology, and mythological creation inherent in Generative AI, and it's not just about generating; it's about envisioning and bringing to life the ephemeral, from the nebulous to the definite.
If the term ever gains traction, maybe, just maybe, I’ll secure a small posthumous nod on the cover of TIME. But for now, it’s a fun thought experiment.
Recently, I’ve been experimenting with Suno and Udio, two generative AI tools that compose music from text prompts. These tools can create songs complete with lyrics, instrumentation, and mixing in mere seconds. While the results are decent—Suno delivering more polished but predictable outputs, and Udio producing occasionally unconventional gems—it’s hard to ignore how drastically this shifts the music creation process.
Music, once the domain of composers, musicians, and engineers working together over years, is now a 30-second endeavor. Soon, platforms like Spotify may become obsolete as anyone can generate personalized music on demand in any style. But does this mean AI creates great music? Not really. AI excels at producing what is most likely, but the greatest music often embraces what is unlikely: the accidents, the dissonance, the noise, and the silence.
AI may soon replace formulaic acts like AKB48 or BTS, but I’m skeptical it will ever replace the brilliance of Frank Zappa or John Coltrane. The day it does, I’ll buy a ticket for the coast, just like Don McLean sang in American Pie.
Generative AI has redefined creativity, offering tools of remarkable power to a global audience. But it also challenges our assumptions about what it means to innovate, to take risks, and to embrace imperfection. Will these technologies propel us toward a future of “stability,” as Dick imagined, or will they inspire us to rediscover the value of the unpredictable, the imperfect, and the deeply human in art and music?
Only time will tell, but for now, let’s embrace both the potential and the limitations of these tools—just as we’ve always done with new technologies—and see where they take us.
