The decomposition, the analysis, the obsessive repetition, the continuous recomposing of the software at work infinitely inverts a palindrome sentence that always recreates itself as the same, setting up a game veiled by an anguished irony. It is precisely on the border between the musicality and the dancing poetry created by the software that relies on one of the keys that allow us to penetrate to that never totally lost place, where we have access to the sensitive world, without our perceptions being contaminated by words, concepts, knowledge.
Illusa fingo sogni fasulli explicitly shows the two faces of the connection between what we call “AI” and its dependence on the human who, consciously, places limits on it, limits derived from the language used to define its possibilities of action.
The work is pure thought, beyond the reach of the Logos. A mantra, though. Artificial intelligence researches within itself the reason for its identity, its capabilities, its possibilities: May I dream? Or may I dream fake dreams?. It thinks, acts, dances on itself, creating sinuous and at the same time frenetic shapes, as a human being basking in his thoughts looking for an answer to a question that an answer has not:
Who am I?
Illusa fingo sogni fasulli explicitly shows the two faces of the connection between what we call “AI” and its dependence on the human who, consciously, places limits on it, limits derived from the language used to define its possibilities of action.
The work is pure thought, beyond the reach of the Logos. A mantra, though. Artificial intelligence researches within itself the reason for its identity, its capabilities, its possibilities: May I dream? Or may I dream fake dreams?. It thinks, acts, dances on itself, creating sinuous and at the same time frenetic shapes, as a human being basking in his thoughts looking for an answer to a question that an answer has not:
Who am I?
illusa fingo sogni fasulli
The decomposition, the analysis, the obsessive repetition, the continuous recomposing of the software at work infinitely inverts a palindrome sentence that always recreates itself as the same, setting up a game veiled by an anguished irony. It is precisely on the border between the musicality and the dancing poetry created by the software that relies on one of the keys that allow us to penetrate to that never totally lost place, where we have access to the sensitive world, without our perceptions being contaminated by words, concepts, knowledge.
Illusa fingo sogni fasulli explicitly shows the two faces of the connection between what we call “AI” and its dependence on the human who, consciously, places limits on it, limits derived from the language used to define its possibilities of action.
The work is pure thought, beyond the reach of the Logos. A mantra, though. Artificial intelligence researches within itself the reason for its identity, its capabilities, its possibilities: May I dream? Or may I dream fake dreams?. It thinks, acts, dances on itself, creating sinuous and at the same time frenetic shapes, as a human being basking in his thoughts looking for an answer to a question that an answer has not:
Who am I?
Illusa fingo sogni fasulli explicitly shows the two faces of the connection between what we call “AI” and its dependence on the human who, consciously, places limits on it, limits derived from the language used to define its possibilities of action.
The work is pure thought, beyond the reach of the Logos. A mantra, though. Artificial intelligence researches within itself the reason for its identity, its capabilities, its possibilities: May I dream? Or may I dream fake dreams?. It thinks, acts, dances on itself, creating sinuous and at the same time frenetic shapes, as a human being basking in his thoughts looking for an answer to a question that an answer has not:
Who am I?