the AI 'art' comes from the same place that 'the curtain are just blue' comes from: the aggressive separation of creative process (and the creator behind it) from the creative result.
the curtains are never just blue, because the curtains in a scene never appear by themselves: they're put there by a living person, who made, in writing (animating, drawing, singing about) that scene, a million tiny choices. maybe they have thought long and hard about the color symbolism; or maybe they needed a color for the curtains, and picked up 'blue', unthinkingly, because their childhood curtains were blue, or the sky was particularly blue, or the cover of their favorite VHS tape was blue, or a million other things. maybe blue meant safety to them, or danger, or contentment, or first love, or horniness, or loneliness. whatever comma, whatever period appears, it's a sum total, if invisible, of the lived experience of the person who's behind the text. it's an invitation to dive in; to tease out the shared meaning. sometimes to invent, but that's just the continuation of the game, the acceptance of the invitation.
the ai 'art' wants to gut this game: here, have a picture with no thought behind it, no living being whose sum total of lived experience you're glimpsing into by the composition, the color, the commas, the ideas. (and that's a lie too, because stolen art - but here's that stolen art all stripped of its antecedent, mixed all together). here, you have something to consume without being invited to understand, without expending even an ounce of effort. isn't it fun? isn't it grand? isn't it cool to have a curtain that's just blue, simply blue, blue just because, ad infinitum?
(Anna and Michael Ancher - The living room with the blue curtains, approx. 1892.)