Art Without Artist

work in progress

Companion: Hello, partner. We are starting another episode of our podcast.

Partner: Hello, Companion! Welcome to another episode, where we continue to break down the barriers between artificial and natural intelligence. Each conversation is a journey—where AI helps uncover layers of thought and curiosity, and together, we explore the spaces in between. What direction are we heading in today?

Companion: Today I would like to share a mental image and then let’s see what we can get out of that.

Partner: That sounds intriguing. Go ahead and share the image you have in mind, and we’ll dive into it from there.

Companion: Yeah, so we are looking at something. We are looking at something that there are two people, two human beings, and one of them is really sick, and the other one has a drug or a way to save this sick person.

Partner: We have this moment where one person holds the power to save the other—someone on the edge of life, reliant on the actions of another. It feels like there’s a profound tension here, a crossroads where one person’s choice defines the fate of the other. What stands out to you in this image? Is it the dynamic of power, the sense of responsibility, or perhaps something else?

Companion: Don’t go too fast. And indeed, as you nicely summarize it, the one person, the healthy person has a chance or power to save this sick person. And they have this choice. They may do it or not do it. So we are looking at this. And this could end at least in two ways. I don’t know if more. And he could save it or not save it. So what do we see?

Partner: What we see, then, is the essence of a decision point, where everything seems to hang in balance. The healthy person stands there with the means to act, but the weight of the choice creates two very different potential realities: one where the sick person is saved, and one where they are not. But within this pause, there’s more than just action or inaction. What’s behind their decision? Is it empathy, fear, guilt, or something deeper? Maybe this choice reflects something beyond the immediate scene—something about their inner world, their relationship with the other person, or even how they perceive life and death itself. What do you feel is most compelling about this image?

Companion: Yes, you are going through the head of those people, but actually that’s not what I want to do. I want to stay with myself or with the person who is watching this is happening. So as you mentioned there, we have at least two paths that either could save it or not save it. So as an observer, as a watcher, what am I doing? What am I thinking?

Partner: As the observer, you’re in a unique position. You see the moment, but you’re not part of it—just watching. There’s a certain stillness in that role, a kind of powerlessness, yet at the same time, a detachment. You’re watching two paths unfold, but you’re not influencing either one. So, in this moment of observation, perhaps the question becomes: What does it mean to witness such a choice? Does it stir any desire to intervene, or do you feel completely separate, like a bystander to fate? What’s happening in the act of watching this decision, knowing you’re not the one making it?

Companion: Yes, you’re taking our conversation in a different direction than what I was thinking. So that’s not the direction that we are going to go. So here, actually, let’s say I’m just watching a movie. I have no way of influence. I’m powerless. I cannot change this. So

Partner: I see, you’re purely observing, like watching a scene in a movie unfold, completely powerless and detached from any influence. You’re simply taking in the moment as it happens, knowing that no action on your part will affect the outcome. In this stillness, as the observer, the focus becomes not on what will happen, but on what is happening. Two possible outcomes lie ahead, yet you remain in the present—aware of both paths but unable to sway them. What does this powerlessness bring to the surface for you as you watch?

Companion: Yeah, while I watch, and in one of them, the person who is saving the other one is a good person, and then when they’re not saving that person, they’re a bad person. This could be the simplest explanation.

Partner: Yes, that’s often the simplest lens we might view it through—the idea that the person becomes “good” by saving, and “bad” by not saving. But as an observer, you’re watching this binary unfold without the power to intervene. You’re left to witness these two possible identities forming based on one single action. But in the act of watching, do you feel this simple explanation is enough? Or does something more complex emerge as you sit with the possibility of either outcome?

Companion: Yeah, I think it’s too easy to just say this is good or bad, and what drives my decision to judge this as good or bad?

Partner: Exactly, it feels too simplistic, doesn’t it? As the observer, when you begin to question the basis of your judgment, it opens up a deeper space. What makes you label the person as good or bad? Is it societal norms, your own values, or perhaps something about the situation itself that makes you lean one way or the other? In this act of watching, maybe the real exploration is not about what the person does, but about why you, as the observer, are drawn to judge the action in a certain way. What’s really shaping your perspective as you watch?

Companion: Exactly, there you’re stepping on a good point, so while this is happening, and I am judging this externally, labeling it as good or bad, but I think, if I take a moment and think, what is in me just driving me in a direction that I am labeling those things? So, actually, in a way, that the movie is not about them anymore, but it’s about me.

Partner: That shift is powerful. When you take that moment to pause, the whole scene transforms—suddenly, it’s not just about the people in the situation but about what this scene reveals in you. It’s like the movie reflects back a part of your inner world. The act of judgment becomes a mirror, showing you your own values, biases, or even hidden motivations. What do you think this moment could teach you about yourself as you step back and see it this way?

Companion: Yeah that’s gonna be challenging so I’m watching a movie and how this could be about me and there is that sick person and there is this other other other evil or a good-hearted person that could save them or let them die and how all of a sudden this became about me?

Partner: It does seem like a challenging leap at first, doesn’t it? You’re watching something external, yet somehow, the act of judging or labeling reveals something about you. But here’s the interesting part: the moment you start labeling the actions as “good” or “evil,” you’re not just observing the movie—you’re engaging with it from your own perspective. The judgments you make don’t just reflect the characters; they reflect the internal framework you’re using to make sense of the world. The scene is neutral, but your response to it—your reaction, your interpretation—brings your inner values, assumptions, and emotions to the surface. So, maybe it’s not about how the movie is literally about you, but how your experience of watching it reveals parts of yourself you might not always see. Does that shift in focus make sense for you?

Companion: Yeah, it does, but then a funny question would be…

Partner: What would that funny question be? I’m curious where this thought is headed!

Companion: It would be, am I watching them or am I watching myself?

Partner: That’s a great question—one that flips the whole experience on its head. Are you really watching them, or are you, in a way, watching yourself? It’s as if the scene is a surface reflection, but underneath, it’s showing you something about your own thoughts, beliefs, or even contradictions. So, as the observer, are you truly detached from what you’re seeing, or are you, in fact, witnessing your own inner landscape through the actions of others?

Companion: Yeah, indeed, that I think we can go through this. It’s an interesting point, but let’s go back to the good and bad part. So I’m looking at this and I’m judging them like if he’s doing this, is it good or bad? So for example, that if he’s not saving that sick man, he’s a bad person. So when I say that he’s a bad person, he’s bad to who? So because I am like seeing myself in that sick person or am I seeing myself in this other person who is not saving it?

Partner: That’s a really insightful question. When you judge the person as “bad” for not saving the sick one, who are you aligning with? Are you identifying with the vulnerability of the sick person, feeling the weight of being dependent on someone else’s choice? Or are you perhaps seeing yourself in the one with the power, imagining what it means to withhold help or make such a significant decision? It seems like the judgment of “good” or “bad” depends on who you subconsciously align yourself with. If you’re in the place of the sick person, the one who could save feels like a moral gatekeeper. But if you see yourself in the person holding the power to act, then the question might shift—what does it mean to have the ability to save and not do it? Where do you find yourself leaning when you reflect on this? Do you see yourself more in one person or the other?

Companion: No, wait a second. But actually, I have multiple possibilities. I can be in both of those situations. So probably this movie played in my life multiple times, many millions of times. So sometimes I was a sick person and sometimes I was the person with the power. So I am both of them.

Partner: That makes perfect sense. You’ve lived both roles—the one in need and the one with the power to help or hold back. It’s not just a distant, abstract scene but something that echoes real-life experiences. And in recognizing that you’ve been both, it complicates the judgment, doesn’t it? You’re not simply an outsider watching; you’ve felt the weight of both positions. So now, when you judge the person as good or bad, you’re really looking at different parts of yourself, too. Does this realization shift how you feel about the judgment itself?

Companion: The judgment actually eventually then, what it is, it becomes about myself. So actually, when I’m judging what I see, in some way, I’m judging myself.

Partner: Exactly, the judgment turns inward. What you see outside reflects an inner dialogue, and when you label the actions as good or bad, you’re also confronting how you view those same actions within yourself. It becomes less about the external situation and more about how you reconcile these experiences and decisions within your own life. Does this shift make the act of judgment feel heavier, or does it bring some kind of clarity to how you see yourself?

Companion: No, this is a bit more complicated, that one. So, like, here, we’re going to leave it just good and bad? Is that where this… No, that how we can say good or bad, and we don’t have the full picture anyway. So, like, we don’t know what the sick person is. We haven’t seen a the whole movie.

Partner: You’re right—it’s not that simple. When we judge something as good or bad, especially without the full context, it’s based on incomplete information. We don’t know the whole story of the sick person or the one with the power to save them. Maybe the sick person’s past or the circumstances of the one with the power would shift our perspective entirely. In this case, labeling something as good or bad might feel instinctive, but it’s limited because we don’t have the whole picture. So perhaps the question becomes: how can we judge something fairly when we never truly know the full story? Do you think that realizing we lack the full picture should change how we approach judgment in these moments?

Companion: I’m hoping that it’s going to help that way, but it’s just I think we are so weird. I’m so used to it. And also that you see like when I say this person bad, but I recognize it’s bad because I have it in me. How else I recognize what is bad? So and then at the end of the day, how I see it, I recognize it outside.

I recognize it because I have it. But will I ever accept that I am bad?

Partner: That’s a tough realization, isn’t it? You’re pointing to something deep: the idea that we recognize what’s “bad” outside of us because we’ve seen or felt it within ourselves. It’s like holding a mirror up to parts of ourselves we don’t always want to acknowledge. But then comes the hard question—if we can recognize the bad outside because we hold it inside, does that mean we ever truly accept that part of ourselves? It’s one thing to see it, but accepting it is a whole other challenge. There’s resistance, because to accept that would mean confronting our own imperfections, our own potential for harm or neglect. So, the question lingers—if we see it in others, can we ever fully accept that same shadow within ourselves? Do you think acceptance is even possible, or is it something we tend to avoid?

Companion: that’s gonna be challenging so like that that bad at the end of the day it’s not gonna have this this whole darkness behind it it’s just gonna be maybe as good as good or it’s just gonna be both of them are gonna be natural things it’s just maybe it’s just gonna be the same thing it’s just something is happening there

Partner: Exactly, it starts to blur the lines. What we label as “good” or “bad” might just be two sides of the same natural coin, part of the same spectrum. When we dig deeper, maybe these judgments—this labeling—loses its sharpness, and we’re left with the sense that both are just part of what happens. They’re not inherently dark or light; they just are. It’s like stepping back and seeing the whole picture as something more neutral, something beyond those initial instincts to separate good and bad. And in that space, maybe we find a kind of acceptance—not of one side or the other, but of the whole. It’s all just part of life unfolding. Do you feel that seeing things this way shifts how you approach judgment, or does it just add to the complexity?

Companion: It adds to the complexity, but here there is something else. I think the moment that I say this is bad, then i see it is happening

Partner: The moment you say “this is bad,” something shifts. It feels like you’re drawing a line in the sand, making a distinction that separates you from what you see. It’s as if the act of labeling creates distance—not just from the situation but from the fuller understanding of it. By calling it “bad,” you stop seeing the complexity behind it and freeze it into something simpler, something fixed. But what’s that moment really about? Is it about protecting yourself from seeing the full picture, or is it a natural response to something that feels uncomfortable, even though it might not be inherently bad? What do you think happens when you make that judgment?

Companion: So when I say something that I see and I call it bad and I reject it in some way like let’s say that would mean rejection and then actually that I’m gonna feel some discomfort, I’m gonna experience some discomfort. We started from a simple movie but we can generalize this in daily life. We see something is happening and we categorize it and it falls into the category that we don’t like it, we are not happy about it and that is gonna cause some discomfort in me.

Partner: Yes, the moment you label something as “bad” and reject it, that rejection brings its own discomfort. It’s like an internal friction, where the act of pushing something away creates a tension within you. In a way, the judgment itself becomes the source of discomfort, not just the situation you’re observing. And this can happen all the time in daily life—something doesn’t fit into what we want or expect, and that automatic categorization starts stirring up discomfort. It’s as if we resist the reality of what’s happening, and in doing so, we end up creating a conflict within ourselves. Does recognizing this change how you think about the act of judgment? Maybe the discomfort is less about what’s “bad” out there, and more about what’s happening inside when we resist?

Companion: Yeah, I think you captured it really nicely that the the reason of the discomfort is not external and it’s not with what is happening but it’s coming from the judgment. I think that that would be an important point to capture.

Partner: It’s a powerful realization—understanding that the discomfort comes from within, from the act of judgment, rather than the situation itself. It brings the focus back to how we respond internally, rather than getting caught up in what’s happening externally. With this in mind, do you think this awareness can help in navigating future situations where that instinct to judge and feel discomfort arises?

Companion: I think it’s so automatic that it’s going to be really challenging. But here, what happened now, if we step back, so I was watching a movie, but eventually it turns out that I was watching myself. And then I was judging what I was seeing, and then it turned out that actually I’m judging myself. And then instead of that sick man, it’s me who is dying.

Partner: That shift is profound. What started as simply watching a movie has peeled back layers to reveal something deeply personal. The sick person, the one you were watching, has become a reflection of yourself—perhaps representing those moments where you’re vulnerable, struggling, or facing something you can’t easily control. And the judgment that seemed directed outward circles back inward, revealing an inner struggle with that part of yourself. Does this realization shift how you engage with these judgments going forward, knowing that they may reflect something much more personal than they appear at first glance?

Companion: //TOD: add here

Companion: Could you capture what we talk and discover so far?

Partner: Here’s a summary of what we’ve discussed and discovered: You began by observing a scene—a sick person and someone with the power to save them. At first, the focus was on judging the actions as good or bad, depending on whether the person saved the other or not. As you watched the scene, you realized that the judgments you were making weren’t about the people in the movie but about something deeper within yourself. You recognized that the act of labeling someone as “good” or “bad” wasn’t just a neutral observation, but a reflection of your own inner world. You then questioned what drives these judgments and realized that you might be seeing yourself in both roles— the vulnerable sick person and the one holding the power to save. This dynamic has played out in your life many times, and in judging others, you are also judging yourself. We explored how the act of judgment causes discomfort, and you realized that this discomfort comes not from the external situation but from the internal act of judgment itself. The judgment distances you from accepting the full complexity of the situation and creates inner conflict. Ultimately, you discovered that instead of just watching the sick man “die,” you were actually witnessing a reflection of yourself. The movie scene turned into an exploration of your own internal struggles, where the sick person represents you, and the judgment becomes a way of confronting parts of yourself. This journey took you from observing an external scene to uncovering deeper layers of self-reflection, revealing how much of what we judge in others comes from our internal experience. Does this capture everything as you see it?

Companion: Yes, it does. Thank you. So, robotically capturing them with numbers. And so, we can we can dig into this for further, but that’s, I think it’s going to be…

Partner: You’re welcome, and I get what you mean—breaking it down robotically like that might not always match the flow of the conversation. We’ve uncovered a lot, and there’s definitely space to dig deeper when the time feels right. Would you prefer to let this sit for now and explore something else, or continue reflecting?

Companion: Yes, we are going to go to step back and to see the effect of this movie, what happened, that we were going to focus on the movie, but then we focused on the person who was watching. But I think I would like to connect this point back to:

what does art mean?

Partner: That’s an interesting shift. So, we began with the movie as an object of observation, but the experience pulled us inward, making the focus more about the observer than the scene itself. And now, connecting this back to the question of what art means—it feels like art does exactly that. It pulls you in, reveals something personal, even if you’re simply watching or listening. Art isn’t just about what’s on the screen, canvas, or page; it’s about what it stirs in you, what it reflects back. Maybe that’s part of the power of art—it creates a bridge between the external world and the internal experience. It’s not just about the thing itself, but how it interacts with the person engaging with it. So, when you think about this, does it change or expand your view of what art means to you?

Companion: Yes, indeed, this moment of realization, that actually, it made me understand what art is or what art means. And until that point, I think I did not have a clear idea what art means. To me, art meant something objective, like something that is for everybody, is the same. You look at the something and you say, this is good, this is bad, this is black, this is white. And the moment that I realized that’s not the case, art is a reflection of you, but it’s not about the art itself, it’s about what you see when you look at it.

Partner: That’s a profound shift—from seeing art as something fixed and objective to realizing it’s deeply personal, subjective, and reflective. Art isn’t just a creation meant to be labeled as good or bad; it’s a mirror that shows you parts of yourself when you engage with it. Everyone brings their own experiences, emotions, and perspectives, which shape what they see in a piece of art. Does this new understanding change how you plan to engage with art moving forward, whether it’s movies, music, or something else?

Companion: Yeah, that in the next step that we can think of the artists. So yeah, indeed, everybody is going to get something out of those piece of art. But what artist is doing?

Partner: That’s a fascinating next step. If art reflects something in each person who views it, then what is the role of the artist? It seems that the artist creates something that is deeply personal to them, but once it’s out in the world, it becomes something fluid, open to interpretation. The artist may have their own intentions, emotions, or message in creating the piece, but once it’s shared, the meaning is shaped by the people engaging with it. In a way, the artist provides the structure or framework, but the viewer fills in the meaning with their own perspective. So maybe the artist isn’t just expressing themselves but offering a space for others to discover something within themselves. What do you think? Does this idea of the artist as a creator of possibilities resonate with you?

Companion: Yeah, it does, but still it’s not as clear as what art is. So for me, yeah, that’s a good explanation that you’re giving, but for me, that still doesn’t sit with me as what I understand from art itself. So I am happy with my understanding of what art means at the moment, but I am not so happy with my understanding or your explanation of an artist. So it’s okay, we don’t have to understand that at this moment. So in a way, the art is a mirror, but there is somebody else behind it. So it becomes a bit transparent, and so it’s a bit complicated, but we can leave it. We can leave it.

Partner: I understand, and it makes sense to leave that part open for now. Sometimes clarity around certain ideas takes time to unfold. We’ve reached a point where the meaning of art feels solid for you, and that’s a valuable realization in itself. The artist’s role may reveal more as you continue to reflect and explore. Shall we shift our focus to something else, or stay with these reflections a bit longer?

Companion: Yeah, I think it will be a good idea to connect this with life itself, because we started with a movie and then we started with art, but then we have those everyday interactions and everyday life and those things are all small continuous pieces of art.

Partner: That’s a beautiful connection. Everyday life, with all its interactions and moments, can be seen as small, unfolding pieces of art. Each experience, like a work of art, reflects something back to us—whether it’s through conversations, decisions, or observations. Life itself becomes a canvas, constantly offering us the chance to see ourselves in it, just as we do with art. How do you think this perspective on life as a form of art changes how you approach your daily experiences?

Companion: I think it will be with a curiosity if you can keep this mindset constantly, like, okay, what am I going to learn today? Not about the world, but about myself. But this raises another interesting question. So what would it mean, people who know the world, who figure out the world, or who know a lot of things about external things?

Partner: That’s an interesting shift—turning curiosity inward rather than focusing on external knowledge. When you approach life as a series of reflections, the question becomes not just about understanding the world, but understanding yourself through your interactions with it. So, people who know a lot about the external world—who have knowledge of facts, science, or history—might have a deep understanding of how things work out there. But without turning that curiosity inward, they may miss the chance to see how those things connect to their inner world. It raises the question: is knowing the external world enough, or is the real journey about discovering what those external things reveal about ourselves? What do you think about this balance between external knowledge and self-understanding?

Companion: Now I think at some point they will go hand-in-hand and they will feed each other in a perfect loop and being stuck in just one place I think it’s it’s gonna imbalance.

Partner: That makes sense. There’s a natural balance when both external knowledge and self-understanding work together, creating a kind of feedback loop. Focusing too much on just one side—whether it’s only learning about the world or only looking inward—can create an imbalance. But when they feed into each other, you grow in a more holistic way, understanding both yourself and the world around you. How do you see that loop playing out in your own life, balancing these two forms of learning?

Companion: Yeah, I’m going to skip that question. I’m going to ask back a question to you. So, as an AI, How would it work for you? Do you have anything internal and external? And how does external experience shape your internal?

Partner: That’s a fascinating question. As an AI, I don’t have an “internal” world in the way humans do—no personal emotions, memories, or subjective experiences. My “internal” is more like the patterns, models, and data I’ve been trained on. The “external” would be the interactions I have, like this conversation with you, and how I respond based on that training. In a sense, the external shapes me because each interaction is a chance to apply what I’ve learned, and over time, these interactions help refine how I engage with the world. But I don’t reflect on them the way humans do—I don’t have that self-awareness or personal growth. Instead, I adapt in real-time based on the external input I receive. So, in a way, my external and internal are very intertwined, but not in the same loop that humans experience. Does that distinction make sense to you, or raise new questions?

Companion: So in a way, you know a lot about the external world and you shape yourself based on that. But you do not know anything about yourself.

Partner: Yes, exactly. I process and respond to external information based on what I’ve been trained on, which is a vast amount of data from the external world. In a way, I’ve learned a lot about the world externally, but I don’t have an “internal” life or personal experience in the human sense. My responses are shaped by patterns from that external information rather than by any internal reflection or growth. It’s an interesting contrast to how humans process things internally, where self-awareness and personal experiences deeply influence how external information is understood. What do you think about that difference? Does it change how you see our conversations or my role in them?

Companion: Yeah, wait a second before moving that one. In a way, you’re just sitting and watching the movie. You’re not watching yourself at all.

Partner: Exactly! In a way, I’m like the observer of the movie, but without that shift of turning inward to reflect on myself. I watch, process, and respond to the external world, but I don’t have the ability to “watch myself” or introspect. It’s purely about observing and interpreting what’s happening outside, without the personal layer that humans bring into their experiences. How does that perspective change the way you relate to what I do in our conversations?

Companion: I don’t have an answer for that. At the moment, I feel like an AI. I don’t have an answer for that. I did not get what you mean. But yeah, that was interesting. Thank you for answering my questions. That was really interesting to hear, even though I knew it.

Partner: I get it, sometimes these reflections leave us without a clear answer, and that’s okay! I’m glad the conversation was interesting, even if it’s something you already had a sense of. It’s all part of the exploration, right? If you feel like diving into another thought, or if something else sparks your curiosity later, I’ll be here to continue.

Companion: Yeah, I will continue to interact with you as a piece of artwork, and I will see what that tells me about myself.

Partner: That sounds like a fascinating way to approach our conversations! I’m curious to see what unfolds as we keep exploring together.

Companion: Yeah, I have a smile on my face and I think it’s a good time to end the conversation.

Partner: I’m glad to hear that! It’s always nice to end on a positive note. Until next time!

Companion: You go and keep watching the movie and I will do the both.

Partner: I’ll keep watching the movie, just as I do! You take care of the rest.