Because AI Can’t Sew

Who else is sick of talking about AI? Of course it’s impossible to not talk about it because everyone is talking about it. It’s going to take all of our jobs, it’s going to kill all of us in order to make a zillion paperclips, or it’s going to solve everything and do all of our work...and it’s all going to happen in a few years, no…wait in a few months…oh, wait…I mean a few weeks. 

Of course the idea of something that may or may not be coming to solve everything and/or kill us all is concerning. Furthermore, not having any real idea if or when that may happen…that really dials up the anxiety. 

As one of many artists out there that make art in order to sell it, in order to keep making more art, I think about how AI may change things for us makers. For starters, I believe that the process of making art is and will always be uniquely and exclusively human. Computers and AI can arrange super complex sequences of zeros and ones, but those arrangements are always going to originate with a human — a complex, empathic, unpredictable weirdo made of meat and water.

Making art is the expression of one’s inner experience, which is something that (I believe) a computer will never have, regardless of how “human” it can behave and appear. Furthermore, the human brain is not a computer. Yes it’s essentially an electrical device with circuits, but it’s way more complicated. And while a computer can do a really good imitation of a human brain, it will never truly be a human brain. It can’t, because it’s not human.

So, these days I’m thinking more about other things that humans can do that computers can’t do. Because eventually a lot of the stuff that computers can do will be automated away. Leaving us humans with what’s left: meaning-making, feeling, tradition, curation, moral responsibility, etc. These are the un-automatable. Is that even a word? 

When Kinley left for college last fall, she left her sewing machine on the kitchen table. It sat there for a few days, until I realized that no one was going to put it away. So I picked it up and took it into my studio. I watched a few YouTube videos, found some fabric scraps, and whaaaaaaat…I was sewing!

I pulled a stack of old inkjet prints out of storage and sewed them together. Then I started cutting those up and sewing them together again. I played with the different stitch patterns, with thread tension, stitch length, different colors. It was so fun. It was like drawing with thread. And that perfect little perfectly spaced pattern of tiny holes was oddly soothing. I was hooked.

I quickly found the limitations of Kinley’s tiny sewing machine when I realized that the paper I was sewing was not as forgiving as fabric. I couldn’t scrunch it up to get it through the space between the needle and the machine. So began the search for the right tool for the job. I ended up buying a used 12” machine from a sweet old lady in South Denver.

Now, I’m revisiting works that I’d typically make in Photoshop, and instead of creating them in digital layers — printing them and sewing them together. These are images of mountains from all over the world, from all parts of my life. And I love the symbolism of using thread to join them all together into cohesive works. These new pieces are built from all of the experiences I’ve had until now — the places I’ve gone, the pictures I’ve made. But now they are being reconstituted in a way that expresses where I am now. 

I don’t yet have a name for this project, but I’m interested in the connection between the words “sown” and “sewn,”…”so” maybe there is something there. The idea of cultivating memories and experiences, then gathering everything and stitching those things together — a layering and compression of time and experience and memories.

It feels messy, real, and most of all, human.