May Artificial Intelligence Have Mercy on the Starving Artist

By Jeff Pearson

Van Gogh died of suicide at the age of 37 after struggling with poverty. During his life, he never experienced commercial success. Edgar Allen Poe died under mysterious circumstances after 40 years of a difficult life. On the day he passed, Poe was too incoherent to explain what had caused his demise. The stories of these two great artists are not unusual. The term “starving artist” has earned its reputation for a reason.

Part of Poe’s life struggles stemmed from copyright law (in particular, weak international copyright laws). Other causes included the general practice of not paying authors well, or sometimes, at all. Boring, I get it. But Poe tried to make a living from writing, so such things were important to him.

Artists have always struggled to find ways to make a living off their works. This is an age-old challenge. Now, artists are suddenly facing a new, perhaps unexpected development—with artificial intelligence (AI), everyone is an artist.

With DALL·E, you can create photos, drawings, or other visual depictions in the style of Van Gogh. With ChatGPT, you can write poems and lyrics to songs in almost an instant. With DALL·E and ChatGPT combined, you can write and illustrate your own book.

Other forms of AI can read your story as an audiobook. AI can sing in a voice of your choosing. AI can mimic musical instruments.

Impressive, for sure. But all this begs the questions: Is this right? What should (can) we (humans) do about it?

The law on AI is quite vague at the moment. As usual, the courts and Congress lag way behind the advances of technology. Only time will tell how this shapes up. Get ready, world. AI is here.

The works of Edgar Allen Poe are now in the public domain, so I don’t think he’ll mind if I use ChatGPT to write a poem about what will happen to the starving artist now that AI is here to stay. Note, I asked ChatGPT to write in the rhythm and tone of The Raven. Here it is:

Once upon a midnight dreary,

A starving artist, weak and weary,

Gazed upon his empty canvas,

Feeling lost and somewhat aimless.

Then came AI, with its might,

Promising to aid his plight,

Offering tools and inspiration,

To unleash his creative passion.

But as he delved into the fray,

The artist found himself dismayed,

For though AI could help him create,

It couldn't replicate his soulful fate.

So he struggled on, day by day,

Chasing his dreams in his own way,

With AI as his trusty guide,

But his own heart as his truest guide.

And so the artist persevered,

Through all the doubts and all the fears,

For though AI could lend a hand,

His soul alone could truly command.