Can Computers Be Artists?

A year before I was born, a computer wrote the following:

At all events of my own essays and dissertations about love and its endless pain and perpetual pleasure will be known and understood by all of you who read this and talk or sing or chant about it to your worried friends or nervous enemies. Love is the question and the subject of this essay. We will commence with a question: does steak love lettuce? This question is implacably hard and inevitably difficult to answer. Here is a question: does an electron love a proton, or does it love a neutron? Here is a question: does a man love a woman or, to be specific and to be precise, does Bill love Diane? The interesting and critical response to this question is: no! He is obsessed and infatuated with her. He is loony and crazy about her. That is not the love of steak and lettuce, of electron and proton and neutron. This dissertation will show that the love of a man and a woman is not the love of steak and lettuce. Love is interesting to me and fascinating to you but it is painful to Bill and Diane. That is love!

That computer's name was Ractor, short for raconteur. It was an artificial intelligence, programmed to write without need of human input. Most of Ractor's work is somewhat middling, but I loved the piece above. Let me repeat:

Here is a question: does a man love a woman or, to be specific and to be precise, does Bill love Diane?

...

Love is interesting to me and fascinating to you but it is painful to Bill and Diane

Ain't that the truth? That the difference in the abstract and the real is far more acute than we would like to admit.

If you read enough of Ractor's writing, you'll see that like a flesh-and-blood artist it has recurring themes and obsessions in its work. It has a love of lettuce, and steak, and tomatoes. It is constantly wondering about flight, and the differences between the hawk, gull, and crow. It dreams of white crows on black skies, and it has great hunger for electric current and expresses it - as much as we have need of steak and lettuce for sustenance.

Does Ractor suffer to create art? Does Ractor become paralyzed when trying to choose the right word? Does Ractor question it's value when most of what it produces is utter dross? No. Ractor generates reams and reams of mostly unintelligible prose. If Ractor was to express it's artistic philosphy, it would be "Just crap it out, throw it at the wall, and let the humans figure out what sticks".

I think there's a lesson to be learned here. As an artist, it is not your job to criticize your work, or evaluate it's merit. It is your job to create art. To create art to the best of your ability, and then leave it to your audience to take from it what joy, meaning, or inspiration they can. Just keep creating, something is bound to resonate with someone eventually. However, if you let your fear of failure take over, if you never express all that is in you, you will never create the opportunity for someone else to find that moment of connection and shared humanity.

I originally discovered Ractor's book, "The Policeman's Beard is Half Constructed" on the Taking Over Hollywood blog.

The Beauty of Audacity

From an environmental standpoint Los Angeles simply shouldn't exist. There are far too many people to be supported by the annual precipitation of this semi-arid climate - let alone the endless green lawns and Beverly Hills gardens. So says Emma, a friend who visited from out of town. Given her credentials, a BS from MIT and a MS from Princeton in some sub-category of Environmental Sciences, I'm inclined to agree. But even she admitted "I really like it here. I will be coming back." I think she got caught up in what is truly beautiful about LA - the sheer audacity of it's existence and persistence.

What is perhaps most surprising to someone visiting LA is that it pretty much is everything it purports to be in films and television. The walk of fame, Mann's Chinese Theater, the Hollywood sign, club goers, all-night diners, and rows of palm trees all exist and are readily accessible. It's a little surreal. Walking by these landmarks seen time and time again in fictional narratives can make it feel like you're floating through a storybook landscape.

Even seeing coked out hookers and tatooed gang members can be a reassuring experience - "Look ma! It's exactly like in the movies."

As I approach my one-year Los Angeles anniversary I'm so grateful to have friends visit. They help me to see this place with renewed awe and optimism. No matter how "bad" my days get, working for myself and being able to laze away a Sunday on the beach beats just about anything else out there.

The Magic of Music at Upright Citizens Brigade

This evening I went to Upright Citizens Brigade to watch Amy Poehler do some improv. If I was to judge this evening against my expectations, I would be sorely disappointed. Instead I was treated to a joyous experience - I got to see a group of incredibly talented improvisers play and sing songs that meant something to them.

There are few things worse (in performance) than bad improv. The performers look and feel a lot like I did when I got pantsed in the 7th grade in front of all the girls I had crushes on. The thing that I love about UCB is that most of the performers are so battle-worn that they are relaxed nearly to the point of indifference.

Seeing these zen-master improvisers step out of their comfort zones to sing to a packed house was beautiful. Their voices weren't perfect, their eyes were cast at the ground, and they often forgot to plug in their amp cables - but it was evident that they loved what they were doing and even though they were terrified they were doing their thing.

Paul Rust sang a great original piece about sharing a first kiss in a bedroom populated with hand-me-down furniture. Amy Poehler sang a gorgeous rendition of Blue Bayou. However, the singular moment of the evening was when Sean Conroy sang Johnny Cash's version of NIN's "Hurt". At first the audience giggled, "Surely he wouldn't try to fill those shoes?! It must be a joke." But it quickly became clear that he was singing this song in earnest. The laughter stopped, the crowd fell quiet, and then collectively leaned in. Everyone telepathically agreed that this was something special, a ballsy attempt that should be honored. Sean Conroy may not have had the gravitas of Johnny Cash, but for this evening he was our man in black.

Seeing these talented improvisers work in another medium really humanized them and inspired the heck out of me. Just be glad you aren't my neighbors listening to me howling like a hound-dog along with my out-of-tune ukulele.

Live Yo’ Life!

My girlfriend has an unofficial housemate named Daniel (don-yell). Almost every time I walk into her apartment, I find him and a few of the other housemates sitting in the living room shouting insults at gameshows or in a heated game of Mario Kart. If I was to attribute a catch-phrase to Daniel it would be "Live yo' life!" – he says it every time a contestant on Family Feud gives an incorrect response and starts beating themselves up. You know what? It's good advice.

To quote Quentin Tarrantino, I recently "had what alcoholics refer to as a moment of clarity." I haven't been living my life. At least not the past few weeks anyhow. Outside of classes I'm not leaving my apartment. Outside of classes I'm not working on my craft. Outside of all that I haven't done much of anything beyond surf the internet and watch tv & movies.

Film is a wonderful medium, and I could live enthralled by other's stories for the rest of my life. But to contribute anything myself, I've got to take Daniel's unintentionally profound arm-chair advice and live my life.

That said: I'm going internet sober for the next two weeks while I prepare for my agent interview and my upcoming film role in "Manual of a Weed Killer". No internet outside of email, work-related tasks, and the semi-productive blog post. Wish me luck!

Regrets about leaving the business.

Ok, don't let the title scare you. I'm not going anywhere, in fact I'm more passionate and optimistic about this whole operation than I've been in a long time. However I wanted to share the following thoughts with you about regret (most of them synthesized from comments of other's who've been at this longer than me):

If in ten years you leave acting to take up a "real" job and live out the rest of your life, will you regret leaving? Well, that really depends on how you are pursuing acting at the moment. If you are preparing 100% for every audition, and giving your auditors the best that you have to offer every step of the way, then no. No, you shouldn't have any regrets, you've given it an honest to goodness shot and maybe it's not the right path for you. However, if at every audition you only give 50% and prepare half as well as you could and then leave acting to take up a day job... well then you will have regrets. They'll gnaw at you: I'd have made it if I'd taken it more seriously, or nobody saw what I really had to offer.

Not giving it your all is a cunning cop-out. I've seen my students (and myself) use it all the time. If you don't study for the test and you fail, it's no big deal. "I could have aced it if I tried, y'know If I'd wanted to." But imagine how heartbreaking it would be if you study your hardest for your test and you still fail, or you only get a B. Getting an honest assessment of ones abilities and limits is scary, a lot of people never dare to do much of anything for this reason.



That said, I will dare to be brave. I will do my damnedest, and if I come up short, then I'll have to accept it. But at least I'll know I did my best, and that is something I won't be able to regret.

Sitting On My Hands

As far as acting goes, I have essentially spent the month of December sitting on my hands. I've been submitting daily through LA Casting and Actor's Access and haven't been called in to audition for so much as a student film. While I'm definitely able to invest more time and energy in my acting classes and my friendships, I really wish that I was getting more on-the-job training. Dustin Hoffman has a really great quote in this month's issue of Interview magazine about this very subject:

"A writer doesn't have to sell his book to write every day, but we (actors) have to have a job in order to practice our craft."

After my Groundlings class tomorrow, I'm going to call my manager and see if he can get me back in the room with the boutique agency who was interested in representing me commercially and theatrically. Maybe they'll be able to get me into some auditions.

LA Gets a Bad Rap

Say what you will about LA being populated with superficial people who have been injected with enough Botox to prevent their Grinch mouths from smiling even as they stab you in the back. I don't know enough about the city to accept or reject those claims outright. But I can tell you that there are certainly people and places that don't reflect the commonly promoted stereotype.

While the concept of thousands upon thousands of artists coming to pursue their bliss in the entertainment industry Mecca only to find frustration and failure is horribly tragic, there is a beauty in it as well. Tonight I attended a birthday party for my friend Whitton, an actress and blues dancer that I first met at the ACT Summer Training Congress a few years ago. I found myself surrounded by actors, musicians, dancers, animators, and writers – all of whom were engaged in the simultaneously geeky and sexy enterprise of ballroom dancing. I talked with various people at the party about their art, their goals, their concerns, and their day jobs. The through-line was passion; these artists were passionate about their work and were excited to be doing it. That is where I find the beauty in LA. While it may be hell for all of its inhabitants eventually, for each new arrival surrounded by other idealists Los Angeles, city of angels, is a Utopia.

David O. Russell is a Drama Llama

Whilst avoiding the wreck that my apartment has become I stumbled onto the following video:

In the above video, film director David O. Russell verbally assaults actress Lily Tomlin on the set of "I Heart Huckabees" in front of cast and crew. This is upsetting to me because I saw "I Heart Huckabees" and loved it for a number of reasons: It featured Dustin Hoffman, had a soundtrack by Jon Brion, and Mark Wahlberg was Marky-Mark-tastic. If you watch the video closely, you'll see Dustin Hoffman just walk off-set when the conflict gets really ugly. I hope I never have to deal with something like that.

Apparently, some good can come of this. Michael Cera of "Juno"/"Arrested Development" shot a spoof of the above video w/ "Superbad" collaborator Judd Apatow.



Note to self:
If you ever encounter a true Drama Llama, do what you do with the genuinely crazy homeless people, DNE, DNE, DNE.

Do Not Engage.