I think people complaining about AI art at businesses are making an aesthetic argument and then laundering it into ones with more heft. I mostly agree with the aesthetic argument, but it’s only that, not some wider indictment.
4,122 karma · joined March 12, 2012
I think people complaining about AI art at businesses are making an aesthetic argument and then laundering it into ones with more heft. I mostly agree with the aesthetic argument, but it’s only that, not some wider indictment.
The design I used to find confusing was the controls for periodic windshield wipers: does the width the triangle indicator represent frequency or period? I eventually just managed to memorize that it means frequency because you get more wiping as you turn it “up”. I don’t think anyone else ever found this ambiguous; we all have our little intuition gaps, I guess.
> My best rule for writing good subject lines is that they feel like they could be the subject lines of an internal email—this helps them feel natural in the inbox. For example, “Quick question”, or “Idea for better outbound” are two casual, natural-feeling subject lines.
I immediately delete any email with a subject line like “quick question”. It does not give me any reason to think I will get any value from it, and what are the chances I will care about answering whatever the question turns out to be? I’m not sitting around waiting to answer questions from strangers, so an email subject line has to tell me what I’m being offered for me to invest that time. In fact “quick question” is already asking me for something (“answer my question”) which just seems unreasonable from an unsolicited email.
If we were to say “no one reads the license; it’s just boilerplate!” and add it elsewhere — say the bottom of the readme or in another file like disclaimer.md — it would quickly just become other, different boilerplate that no one reads.
You can’t solve the problem of understanding norms by writing copy. I’m resigned to everyone learning the hard way.
Related: it sure seemed like the mid-90s were special for rock music; I was 13 when Dookie came out and I felt (still feel) like I was in a sort of alternative renaissance, just crammed with amazing new music. But I’m sure every generation feels that way about whatever happened to be popular when they were teenagers.
In an ideal world, our abstractions would be so perfect that there would be no mundane boiler-platey parts of a program; you'd use the abstractions to construct software from a high level and leave details be. But our abstractions are very far from perfect: there's all kinds of boring code you just have to write because, well, your program has to work. And generally that code is, if you look, most of your code. This because making good abstractions is really hard and constructing fresh ones is often more work than just typing out the different cases. If you think this is mistaken, I'd gently suggest you take a fresh look at your own code.
Anyway, that's where LLMs come in. They help write the boring code. They're pretty good at it in some cases, and very bad at it in others. When they're good at it, it's because what the code should do is sort of overspecified; it's clear from context what, say, this function has to do to be correct, and the LLM is able to see and understand that context, and thus generate the right code to implement it. This code is boring because it is in some vague sense unnecessary; if it couldn't be otherwise, why do you have to write it at all? Well you do, and the LLM has taken care of it for you.
You can call this work the LLM is displacing "art", but I wouldn't. It's more the detritus of art performed in a specific way, the manual process required to physically make the art given the tools available.
You could object that the LLMs will get better in the sense that not only that they will make fewer mistakes, but they will be able to take on increased scope, pushing closer to what I'd consider the "real" decisions of a program. If this happens -- and I hope it does -- then we should reevaluate our lofty opinions of ourselves as artists, or at least artists whose artistry is genuinely valuable.
The gameplay itself is just great though.
Iodized salt is a good example of a technical solution success story, and the one that was top of mind for me too. I don't think anyone thinks we should have waited for the underlying social problems to clear themselves. It certainly points out that these solutions need to be implemented well and have government support in order to be successful, but that's exactly why people are so upset about the political setbacks to golden rice.
But also I think the "treating the gunshot wound" analogy is a better fit. A crop that produces vitamin A is a treatment for population suffering from vitamin A deficiency. And "let people grow this crop" is a much smaller social problem than "dramatically reduce poverty".
A thought exercise is to imagine programming a little robot. It can play with balls because you program it to stimulate objects in its environment, and it has a heuristic called "interesting" that controls what it plays with. It can detect when it is damaged and avoid places where the damage happened (you can even call the variable where you store the quantity of damage "pain" if you want). It can remember places or objects by encoding characteristics about them and storing on the onboard flash drive. While none of that is at all easy, those are all things you could imagine programming without some great conceptual breakthrough. But you would probably not suspect your robot is conscious.
That's not an argument that bees are not conscious, and as far I understand it, there's no conceivable way to really know, and we don't even really have a great definition of consciousness to begin with. We have only guesses, and usually those guesses are something like "well, it seems like something that must emerge from a sufficiently complex brain, and mammals and birds have big complex brains, so they probably do, and mollusks don't, so probably they don't", etc.
A related thought exercise is to imagine an alien that is very smart but is not conscious, and doesn't understand us when we ask it about the experience of being itself.