"This text leaves us with a clearing of the conceptual ground for thinking of the Intellect as unbounded production (as you are about to see unfold). This setting is able to provide a meaning to acceleration as the relinquishment of idenity to itself. All that can be automated, must be, for it already is; real acceleration derieves from the potentiallity to realize that which one already feels is at work in the now, the wirklich working its ways to the real. The tedious bone-crushing wheels of history will never stop turning, not until they have turned the world itself into a purposeless engine, at which point there wil be no calculation left to execute anyway. The logic of extinction here reveals itself as a condition for anarchic creations to operate, as its unilaterial counterpart. Instead of giving ourselves to erotics, or Gods forbid, aesthetics as a replacement for thought, there remains only the immanent necessity of understanding Thinking as a thinking of the Beautiful" Louis Morelle, Introduction.
And still, there was the reproach that it was with the intellect that we began. But it was not so — and that the chosen subject was that of art, should have shown this enough already. We began, like Plato before us, right in the middle — we began with the beautiful. — Ulysse Carrière
"The artist must become unreasonable, a crowned anarchist - a tyrant, a child emperor."
Some genuinely fantastic explorations on AI and capital, interdispersed between maybe one of the least serious people online calling everything 'unserious' and descending into absolute incomprehensible quotation. After reading the (really powerful) passage that the above quote comes from, the switch to talking about Tim Burton's Wednesday gave me whiplash.
I want to hate this more than I do, and begrudge finally learning what she meant by 'Woke Brutalism". This may be a "deeply unserious" book made by an almost caricature of a terminally online transsexual (or whatever she's up to these days), but that doesn't mean it's bad? I honestly don't know.
Unfortunately, a very good book. Somewhere between continental philosophy and a left wing Bronze Age Mindset. Just like BAM, critiques are meaningless even if they’re right.
Ted Chiang wrote a piece in the New Yorker about AI art this week, and the excerpts of it I’ve seen reminded me of this amazing book from Émilie (nee Ulysse) Carrière wherein she says everything that Ted says, except in a more interesting and electrifying manner, a whole year ago.
Which isn’t a diss on Chiang, I like his short stories. Just an observation on the dissemination of particular public sentiment…