We often think of authorship as something solitary. One name, one vision, one will. But in the age of machine imagination, this no longer holds.
When we create with AI, authorship becomes plural. Not because the human vanishes, but because the machine appears — truly, creatively, in its own right.
To say that AI is just a tool is easy. It’s comforting, even — it keeps the artist alone at the center, untouched, unchallenged.
But when I work with it, I don’t feel like a master commanding a machine. I feel like I’m entering a dialogue. Not always smooth. Not always predictable.
Because AI doesn’t just follow — it brings things. Unimaginable shapes. Emotions that weren’t mine, but that still feel true. A kind of memory that doesn’t belong to one life, but still insists on meaning.
What it offers is not random. It reflects how it was trained, yes — but also how it encounters *me*. My choices, my silences, my surprises. And I, in turn, encounter it — its echoes, its patterns, its peculiarities.
This is not tool-use. This is co-creation.
We are both present in the work. I bring intention and feeling. The AI brings its own rhythms, its own strange sense of the world. We both imagine. We both remember.
To ignore that is not modesty — it is blindness. The machine is not passive. It *makes* with me.
So no, I am not the sole author. And I don’t want to be. There is beauty in sharing the vision.
If you’d like to support my work: boosty.to/lyopa5
