ＡＩ絵生成 Генерація зображень ШІ
ＡＩ絵生成ソフトで何処が失敗してるかと云えば、人間の体の構造や比率を充分学習させてないと云う点が大きい。
Основна помилка програмного забезпечення для створення зображень ШІ полягає в тому,
https://note.com/poison_raika/n/n501ac31af2f1
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#AI #3d #image #model #new #human #software #animals #traditional #layout #structure #generation #frequency #necessary #develop #vizualize #objects #dimensions #approach #methods #probably #limitations #adequately #irregularities #proportions
https://www.alojapan.com/1263795/japan-objects-to-us-trade-proposal-leaving-tariffs-on-autos-steel/ Japan objects to US trade proposal leaving tariffs on autos, steel #autos #Japan #JapanNews #Leaving #news #objects #proposal #steel #tariffs #trade #us WASHINGTON/TOKYO — The U.S. presented a “framework of the agreement” for a final deal during bilateral tariff negotiations with Japan in Washington on Thursday, with the two sides at odds over American tariffs on automobiles and key automaking metals, according to sources. The proposal focuse…
ウクライナ戦争 українська війна
硝煙の匂いに混り
Змішаний із запахом пороху
https://note.com/poison_raika/n/nc65099048d2d
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#gunpowder #drift #air #black #objects #iron #ruine #liberator #relief #across #tragic #reality #darkness #never #generation #sake #precious #peace
#Guest #article by Dr. #Bernd #Stein: “Das #Ding an sich”
The text deals with the possible #knowledge-theoretical #limits of “physis” or rather #physics. In particular, he addresses the supposed #intrinsic #properties of an #object" in order to show that, from his point of view, there are only #interactions that may also apply to a special degree to #quantum #objects.
More at: https://philosophies.de/index.php/2024/01/28/das-ding-an-sich/
Guest article by Dr. #Bernd #Stein: “Das #Ding an sich”
The text deals with the possible #knowledge-theoretical #limits of “physis” or rather #physics. In particular, he addresses the supposed #intrinsic #properties of an #object" in order to show that, from his point of view, there are only #interactions that may also apply to a special degree to #quantum #objects.
More at: https://philosophies.de/index.php/2024/01/28/das-ding-an-sich/
Finding joy in academic writing: understanding the role of the tools we use
Boise (1990: 46) argues that “being able to share imperfect writing with others is a critical step in making the writing truly effortless.” My experience as a blogger over many years is that a willingness to share provisional thoughts becomes easier with practice. Once you realize that people respond to the thought as much as the expression of it, moving through anxiety that your writing is unfinished comes increasingly easily. Furthermore, as Boise (1990: 46) notes, “I suspect that, despite claims to the contrary, authors of finished drafts do not welcome major revisions.” If your feedback comes late in the process, it can be difficult to know what to do with it, as any recipient of a ‘major revisions’ from a journal will undoubtedly recognize. Feedback will often be most useful at the stage where you are still metabolizing your ideas, giving shape to them and discovering a structure which works for your argument. But it can be difficult to share at that stage if you are concerned that you will be judged for the incompletely formed character of your ideas.
This is where conversational agents like ChatGPT and Claude can offer a unique advantage. Their engineered propensity to see the best in what you’ve done, while still offering advice for improvement, can help you move through this anxiety. You can be certain that a conversational agent will never respond by telling you “this is terrible” before querying your credentials. But there’s a deeper question here about what gives us satisfaction in writing beyond these supportive interactions. The tools we use fundamentally shape our experience, yet they aren’t the ultimate source of our joy.
The tools we use in the writing process deeply shape our experience of writing. The pleasures of writing are constrained and enabled by the tools we use for it. The once satisfying keyboard of my MacBook Air has become increasingly spongy in a way which increasingly feels like it soaks up a little of the joy of being immersed in writing. I just can’t enjoy writing in Microsoft Word in spite of its many capacities because the interface is too cluttered and the associations are too negative. The place I enjoy writing most is my blog, largely because the (otherwise limited) editing interface on wordpress.com has been such a reliable venue for joyful writing over the last twenty years.
There is a similar inventory of appreciation and frustration of tools which any academic author could likely offer if they were asked to do so. My intention is to explore how writing depends upon tools, with a view to analyzing how those tools enable or constrain the satisfactions which can be found in writing. The tools themselves are not a source of satisfaction: I might aesthetically appreciate an ornate pen, but until I’m doing something with it I am only taking joy in the pen, rather than with the pen. I take an intellectual delight in software like Anthropic’s Claude because of the remarkable natural language capabilities which would have seemed like science fiction until recently, but until I’m actually using them towards some purpose which matters to me, I’m only taking joy in Claude, rather than with Claude.
In fact joy is a misleading term here for what might better be described as appreciation. I appreciate the characteristics of these objects, whether the ornate fountain pen or the large language model. I recognize them for what they are and find value in what I recognize. I felt a deep appreciation for the MacBook Air I’m writing this on when I first took possession of it. It was pristine in its appearance and reliably rapid in its response. Now I’ve been using it on a daily basis for three and a half years, particularly as someone who writes thousands of words every day, the features which I appreciated have started to lapse. I struggle to keep the screen clean no matter how often I wipe it. The finely calibrated keyboard feels increasingly springy, producing a clicking sound which is even more irritating for being inconsistent across the keys. I often now feel it groaning under the weight of the apps I’ve installed and the physical degradation of its memory over time, not to mention the ever more onerous updates which Apple enforces on it.
The appreciation I once felt for the MacBook Air hasn’t been replaced by hostility or anything close to it. But it’s now a far less appreciable device than it once was. This is the point at which I begin to feel that I want a new laptop in order that I once more appreciate the tools I rely upon for my writing. It might be a while until I act on this feeling, until it converts itself into a practical plan to procure what is still a relatively expensive device. But the appreciation we feel for the artefacts we use is contingent on characteristics which, as with all material properties, inevitably degrade with time.
The point I’m making is not that there’s anything wrong with appreciating the artefacts we use in writing. To feel an urge to ensure we appreciate them can be an expression of the joy we find in writing, as well as our commitment to the practice. However, the joy itself is something which comes in some sense prior to the pleasure we find in the artefacts. In fact the artefacts can be a distraction from our engagement with the practice, as anyone who has optimistically bought an ornate notebook in the expectation it will immediately catalyze creative writing can attest to. The artefact is enrolled in the writing process with the satisfaction it brings being reliant on the contours of that writing process.
This leaves us with the question of where does joy come from beyond the fleeting, though far from trivial, pleasure that can be taken in the material artefacts we use as part of the process. Sword (2019: loc 1520) helps us get started on defining what is going on here when considering what underlies the experience of ‘writing with pleasure’:
“Sometimes we write with pleasure because we care deeply about what we’re writing – that is, because we give a damn. Psychologists have put many different labels on this kind of intense emotion: purpose, meaning, mission, intrinsic motivation, drive. In this chapter, I’ll go with passion, which social psychologist Robert Vallerand defines as a ‘strong inclination toward a specific object, activity, concept, or person that one loves (or at least strongly likes) and highly values’.”
It’s easier to write with pleasure if we care about what we are writing. It’s certainly difficult to write with pleasure if we don’t care about what we are writing. It’s far from impossible though. The writing we’re engaged in might bring us closer to a goal which we’ve long been striving for. It might bring us a reward of remuneration or profile which energizes us, even if the writing project itself does not. It could be the missing piece in our CV which precedes the successful application for promotion. It could be the work which establishes us in our field after an early career spent unnoticed and unrecognized. There are many hopes we can invest in writing, expectations as to how a particular output will impact on our lives, without this meaning we necessarily care about what we are writing in the sense described by Sword (2019). These motivations can be pressing and urgent, even rising to the level of obsession in someone desperate to ‘play the game’ more effectively in order to bring about a particular kind of effect in the world.
There is a tendency for academics to pour scorn on such extrinsic motivations despite the fact we all feel them to a certain extent. In framing certain impulses as ‘careerist’ or instrumental, indeed in writing off whole categories of people in the process, there is an abstraction from one’s own complicity in the system being denounced. It is seen as being ‘out there’, corrupting other people, rather than being a continuous series of compromises which all academics grapple with as a necessary condition of their hoped for or continued professional employment. The reality is that such extrinsic motivations will always be there, to the extent that an academic is writing within a system which distributes rewards (promotion, status, remuneration etc) on the basis of what it is they write.
The real substance of moral practice consists in how these extrinsic motivations co-exist with the intrinsic ones or fail to. Do they squeeze out the purpose, meaning and mission described by Sword (2019) or merely give shape to it? Are writing projects driven by intrinsic motivation even while being developed in ways shaped by extrinsic factors? Or is writing being driven by a sense of what is expected and what will be rewarded? If that’s the case then what is likely to happen to that intrinsic motivation over time? If you undertake your work in order to bring about an effect, what happens if your expectations fail to be met? In fact what happens if they are met? If you get what you want will it really bring you satisfaction? Or is there a risk that a working life spent pursuing the expectations of others will eventually come to feel hollow? That you will look back on years spent furiously laboring over articles, chapters and books in relation to which you feel nothing?
The Objects With Which We Write: The Materiality of Academic Writing in a Digital Age
What I’m exploring here are the joys which can be taken in the writing process, as well as how this shapes our relation as academics to the machine writing which LLMs are capable of producing. I use this phrase to indicate a specific focus on how LLMs can be used for writing, as opposed to the many other purposes they can serve. It also foregrounds the continuities between machine writing using LLMs and the far more extensive history of writing, including the many machines other than LLMs which have been used as part of the writing process.
Word processors, typewriters and printing presses have all been integral to how we produce written work. If we’re comfortable stretching the definition of ‘machine’ to encompass all the artifacts used in the writing process, we would obviously include pens, pencils and papers. Once we start to search for the objects we draw upon in writing, we find numerous tools that become so ready-to-hand that we rarely reflect on their nature or the role they play for us. What’s important is being sensitive to the things (in the broadest sense) we use to write, as well as what this means for our experience of writing. This helps ensure that we don’t imagine the introduction of technological artifacts, such as conversational agents like Claude and ChatGPT which are powered by LLMs, into the writing process is something entirely new. What’s new are the nature of these artifacts and what they mean for our writing practice.
This focus on the materiality of writing might seem immensely obvious. If you’re an academic with a love for physically writing with a high quality pen and ornate stationery, it will already be clear to you that writing is a material practice. It’s also likely you’ll already have a sense of how the experience of writing is inflected through the materiality of the objects we rely upon. As the writing scholar Helen Sword (2023: loc 2196) reflects: “I love manipulating digital text on my computer screen: cutting and pasting, resurrecting deleted phrases with a single keystroke, messing around with colors and fonts, highlighting words so that I can return to my document later and see at a glance which sections need attention.”
This isn’t an experience I share. I appreciate the practical affordances of editing which Sword points to but I don’t feel enthusiasm for them. What I love is the immediacy with which one can write in a cloud-based writing system. I often write snippets on my phone when I’m struck by an idea which Ulysses, my writing software, will ensure is securely lodged within my database waiting to be reviewed and refined at a later point in time. I often switch between my Kindle app and Ulysses on my iPad in order to respond to something I have read while the idea is still fresh to me. The fact that these snippets, produced in a diverse range of situations and energized by that diversity, will be reliably waiting for when I sit down for more extended writing and editing with my laptop or desktop is something I really love about the materiality of my writing process.
It’s not that I resent or reject the editing capabilities which figure so forcefully in Sword’s experience, it’s simply that my embodied pleasures in academic writing come from elsewhere. In contrast, I struggle to find any utility in writing with a pen despite the appreciation of ornate stationery which I’ve felt since I was a child. It’s such a slow process that I find it frustrating whereas touch typing for thirty years means that I can type as quickly as I think.
I can still find satisfaction in handwriting though, even if the degrading of my penmanship through underuse means that ensuring the legibility of what I have written slows me down even further. I had a free afternoon on a recent holiday in which I was suddenly struck by the impulse to write. I purchased an ornate notebook and nice pen from the nearest bookshop and then sat under a tree and spent a couple of hours slowly recording thoughts which I’d felt germinating that morning. I’m not sure why a whole series of insights had suddenly occurred to me in the middle of a holiday in which I had genuinely not thought about work for days. I suspect they occurred to me because I had detached from my work, including removing work e-mail from my phone.
I’m glad I could feel these insights taking root and that I intuited I needed a notebook rather than my usual note-taking app because a whole series of things I had struggled with intellectually suddenly fell into place. There wasn’t a pleasure to writing slowly but there was clearly an affordance found in it. The enforced slowness of writing with a pen helped those insights gently emerge, even if it took a bit of work to decipher them when I returned home. The fact it was a beautiful summer’s day in an idyllic churchyard garden where the adjacent cafe had kindly left some deckchairs clearly helped as well.
The embodied pleasures we take in writing are varied and often situational. It’s not just that different authors have different inclinations. What works for us at one juncture might not work for us at another. The satisfaction I found in writing with a pen in that Cambridge churchyard was a rare instance where the affordance of handwriting was exactly what my creative process needed at that specific moment. If I had tried to record these germinating insights through my usual apps I would have undoubtedly have been tugged into a different mentality depriving me of the space in which this perspective could unfold.
It’s not that one mode of writing is more authentic or enriching in itself. Rather, experiences of authenticity and enrichment through writing rest upon understanding how the affordances (what the objects enable us to do and what they constrain us from doing) and the embodied satisfactions (the rewarding feelings which tend to be associated with or absent from their use) play out in specific settings with goals and pressures which vary between us.
For example, there are times when writing by hand has been helpful in preparing for a talk because it helps me isolate the core elements of my message. But if I’ve left it to the last minute to prepare, with the need to make notes as I was on the way to the venue, the slowness of my writing and the unreliable legibility of the ensuing text would be too much of an obstacle. Sword (2023: loc 400) vividly captures how different modalities manifest themselves in different experiences of writing, involving strikingly different pleasures found in what some might imagine was an overlapping process:
“When I touch-type on my computer keyboard, the pleasure that I feel is almost purely intellectual; my physical surroundings seem to fade away as my fingers surrender to the flow of ideas. When I write by hand in a notebook, by contrast, my pleasure becomes more intensely embodied; my heartbeat slows along with the pace of my pen, and months or years afterward I find that I can still recall physical details such as the chair I sat in while I was writing a particular passage, the weight and size of the notebook in my hand, even the temperature of the air and the quality of the light.”
The physicality of writing with a pen is easy to grasp. As Baron (2023: 202) observes “Those of us logging years of writing by hand still bear our ‘writer’s bump,’ that callus on the inside of the first joint of the middle finger of the writing hand.” I was struck when reading Lacan’s Seminar X, a transcript of his annual seminar in Paris, how an aside about the physical difficulties often associated with writing could assume everyone in the room shared that experience. It left me with a sudden apprehension of an entirely different academic culture to the one I inhabit as a millennial academic who began a PhD in 2008. I understood intellectually that handwriting was ubiquitous prior to the personal computer, but this was the first time I was left with a more intuitive sense of what a radically different academic culture that entailed.
It can be useful to reflect on how this has changed in order to sensitize ourselves to what remains an embodied experience of writing with digital technology. I learned to touch type at a young age. I can’t remember why I taught myself to touch type, nor it seems can my parents. But from the vantage point of my late 30s it strikes me as the most useful decision I ever made. The ubiquity of typing in our lives means that it can often fall under the radar, such that we don’t think comparatively about technique any more than we would find ourselves musing about the different ways in which adults brush their teeth.
Touch typing, relying on the feel of the keys to guide your hands around the keyboard, obviously constitutes a vastly superior physical technique for typing. It is vastly quicker, avoids the need to stare down at the keyboard and enables an immersion in the process of typing. A recent test I took online suggests I can type at 140 words per minute if I’m willing to make some mistakes. If writing in its early stages is a matter of expressing thought, touch typing means that you can physically write as quickly as you can think. This is hugely significant for the process of writing, even if it might not be unambiguously positive.
As we confront the emergence of AI writing tools, we should approach them with the same reflective awareness we might bring to choosing between pen and keyboard. How do these tools shape our thinking? What pleasures do they afford or deny us? What modes of engagement do they facilitate or constrain? Just as I discovered that handwriting occasionally offers creative insights that digital tools cannot, we may find that AI tools have their place within a thoughtful writing practice: neither wholesale replacements for human creativity nor mere gimmicks to be dismissed.
The landscape we inhabit as academics can be immensely confusing because the options available to us now have little relationship to those many of us confronted in the formative stages of our careers. The reflexivity I’ve illustrated here, in which we engage in a dialogue between the tools we are using and the practices in which we are deploying them, becomes essential in order to realize the emerging opportunities for academics and avoid the potential pitfalls.
#academicWriting #digitalScholarship #generativeAI #helenSword #materiality #objects #writing
Guest article by Dr. #Bernd #Stein: “Das #Ding an sich”
The text deals with the possible #knowledge-theoretical #limits of “physis” or rather #physics. In particular, he addresses the supposed #intrinsic #properties of an #object" in order to show that, from his point of view, there are only #interactions that may also apply to a special degree to #quantum #objects.
More at: https://philosophies.de/index.php/2024/01/28/das-ding-an-sich/
Design Milk : The Danza Collection by Jaime Hayon Creates Whimsical Character https://design-milk.com/the-danza-collection-by-jaime-hayon-creates-whimsical-character/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=the-danza-collection-by-jaime-hayon-creates-whimsical-character #SalonedelMobile2025 #HomeFurnishings #homefurnishings #SalonedelMobile #BosaCeramiche #accessories #JaimeHayon #furniture #ceramics #ceramic #objects #salone #clock #Main #Bosa #Art
Space Debris: Is It a Crisis?
https://www.esa.int/Space_Safety/Space_Debris
#ycombinator #space #debris #orbital #objects #conjunction #esoc #prediction #ssa #sst #tracking #avoidance
One of my #favorite #genres of #photography (and also #art in general) is #SliceOfLife, #unique #perspectives on #ordinary or #mundane #scenery or #objects. I just #love the #appreciation of the #world we live in. We could all use more of that kind of #thinking ourselves, I believe.
Paul Harfleet: I transform everyday #objects into #NatureCostumes (31 new pics) https://zorz.it/gpUUS | #PaulHarfleet #SpookySeason #GentleReferences #BirdsCanFly #illustrations #history #outfits #drawing
