UCSC profesorius David Cope sukūrė sistemą Emily Howell, kurią, tarsi studentą, jis išmoko kurti muziką, ir ne bet kaip, o savitu stiliumi:

Atskirtumėte nuo tikro kompozitoriaus? Aš – ne, ir esu tikras, kad Emily Howell įveiktų Tiuringo testą:

When Cope played “the game” in front of an audience, asking which pieces were real Bach and which were Emmy-written Bach [tai ankstesnė EH versija], most people couldn’t tell the difference. (…) Given its success in “the game,” it could be argued that Emmy passed the Turing Test.

Man tai – pirmasis geras dirbtinio intelekto galimybių pavyzdys ir parodymas, kad menas gimsta ne iš sielos, o iš gebėjimo gerai dėlioti natas (ar žodžius, spalvas etc.). Tai ką, menininkai lieka be darbo, kaip kad be darbo liko mašinistės, įsigalėjus kompiuteriams? Seniai laikas užčiaupti tas susireikšminusias pezančias galvas, aiškinančias apie meno išskirtinumą. Tikrai nesakau, kad kurti yra lengva ar nevertinga, tačiau paplaukusioms meno galvoms, žaidžiančioms šūdų krūvelėmis ir vadinančioms tai „provokacija“ ir „akcija“, Emily Howell tebūna parodymas, kad menas – toks pat amatas, kaip ir visi kiti, su savomis taisyklėmis – ir nieko daugiau! (Kaip ir statybos, lyderystė ar mokslas.) Cope tai labai gražiai paaiškina:

Cope had taken an unconventional approach. Many artificial creativity programs use a more sophisticated version of the method Cope first tried with Bach. It’s called intelligent misuse — they program sets of rules, and then let the computer introduce randomness. Cope, however, had stumbled upon a different way of understanding creativity.

In his view, all music — and, really, any creative pursuit — is largely based on previously created works. Call it standing on the shoulders of giants; call it plagiarism. Everything we create is just a product of recombination. (…)

Cope thinks the old cliché of beauty in the eye of the beholder explains the situation well: “The dots and lines on paper are merely triggers that set things off in our mind, do all the wonderful things that give us excitement and love of the music, and we falsely believe that somewhere in that music is the thing we’re feeling,” he says.

Bet jei kūryba – vien gabalėlių dėliojimas, kodėl vienam sekasi geriau, kitam prasčiau? Kuo ypatingas Einšteinas? Cope savo atsakymu mane pribloškia:

He’s now convinced that, in many ways, machines can be more creative than people. They’re able to introduce random notions and reassemble old elements in new ways, without any of the hang-ups or preconceptions of humanity.

“We are so damned biased, even those of us who spend all our lives attempting not to be biased. Just the mere fact that when we like the taste of something, we tend to eat it more than we should. We have our physical body telling us things, and we can’t intellectually govern it the way we’d like to,” he says.

In other words, humans are more robotic than machines. “The question,” Cope says, “isn’t whether computers have a soul, but whether humans have a soul.”


David Cope nerealus. Ir dar nerealesnis, kai perskaitai šitai:

If Cope’s vision does come true, it won’t be due to any publicity efforts on his part. He’ll answer questions from anyone, but he refuses to proactively promote his ideas. He still hasn’t told most of his colleagues or close friends about Tinman, a memoir he clandestinely published last year. The attitude, which he settled on at a young age, is to “treat myself as if I’m dead,” so he won’t affect how his work is received. “If you have to promote it to get people to like it,” he asks, “then what have you really achieved?”

(visos citatos iš [Triumph of the Cyborg Composer Smart Journalism. Real Solutions. Miller-McCune Online Magazine](http://www.miller-mccune.com/culture-society/triumph-of-the-cyborg-composer-8507/))