The Container

シャイ・オハヨン
The Container, ディレクター

— From On Truth and Lies in a Nonmoral Sense by Friedrich Nietzsche, 1873

What if AI composed for Mr. S? intended to be an exhibition about Artificial Intelligence and the impact it may have, now or in the future, on the production or the aesthetics of art-making; but, in the end, the exhibition evolved to be about truth and morality, and the public’s (“the spectator”) role in the process of art creation.

Japanese and international press ran amok in February 2014 with the revelation that the renowned Japanese classical composer, Mamoru Samuragochi, did not in fact wrote any of the music attributed to him since 1996. Instead, it was disclosed, Mr. Samuragochi deployed a “ghostwriter”, Takashi Niigaki, a musician, composer and a lecturer at Tokyo’s Toho Gakuen School of Music, who had been composing on his behalf for nearly two decades. To add injury to insult, it was also revealed that Samuragochi is not deaf, as he has been claiming for years, to perpetuate mystique and parallels to one of the world’s greatest composers, Beethoven.

Mr. Samuragochi, who started to play the piano at the age of four, was one of modern Japan’s pride and glory, and was dubbed by foreign media as “digital-era Beethoven”. Most celebrated was his No. 1 Symphony “Hiroshima” (2003), which was first publicly played to commemorate the G8 meeting Hiroshima in 2008, and was due to be used by the Japanese figure skater Daisuke Takahashi at the 2014 Winter Olympics in Sochi. 

Nietzsche in his essay from 1873 “On Truth and Lies in a Nonmoral Sense”, examines how we use language to reveal and conceal reality, and argues that as humans invent all concepts and metaphors, we tend to forget our role in constructing “truth” and its correspondence to reality. Truth, then, Nietzsche implies, is a language exercise, deriving from humans’ desire for knowledge, and enhanced by our basic instinct for belonging. As a society, we designate “truth” as some sort of a social contract, legislated by language. Society’s search for truth is not about deception, but rather the feeling of harm and unpleasantness when defrauded. Is Mr. Samuragochi really a fraud then, or did he just hurt our feelings? 

Ghostwriters are a very common and accepted phenomenon in the publishing industry, and usually do not trigger any social unpleasantness and hurt by the public or critics; but, can’t this be prescribed also to other creative processes? In art-making it is also a very acceptable practice. Nowadays, it is extremely common for artists to fabricate their works or deploy ideas using a range of resources and processes — taking inspiration from advertising and media, or relying on other artists’ works for stimulus and influence — while using factories, machines, computers, 3D printers or craftsmen for the actual fabrication. In the last few years, for example, one of the most acclaimed living artists, Jeff Koons, has been lodged with no less than five legal complains of plagiarism (some he lost, the latest in 2018, while some he settled out of court); nevertheless, it hasn’t stopped him from selling just last May his seminal sculpture from 1986, Rabbit, for over $91M at a Christie’s auction, scooping the accolade for the highest sum for any artwork by a living artist in history. So why has Mr. Samuragochi been propelled to live in exile and shame?

Getting someone else to make your artwork for you is nothing new either. It is well documented that many of our classical master artists hired assistants and apprentices to do much of the works we attribute to them. No-one sniffs at the Sistine Chapel, even though Michelangelo wasn’t there on a ladder with a paintbrush painstakingly painting the ceiling. We still flock to the Vatican and credit him for his amazing masterpiece and talent. 

When the Japanese loose collective AIAARG (Artificial Intelligence Art and Aesthetics Research Group), headed by the conceptual artist Hideki Nakazawa and Mika Kusakari, discussed with me the concept for this exhibition, I was immediately intrigued. The collective was formed in 2016 to examine the impact AI technologies have, or may have in the future, on art production and aesthetics. Their first major exhibition was hosted by the Okinawa Institute of Science and Technology University (OIST), and included works that were created, inspired, or philosophically driven by the use of Artificial Intelligence. Their approach is broad and flexible, and relies heavily on philosophical discourse rather than actual AI technologies.

AIAARG introduced their concept to me as a philosophical hypothesis, contemplating what would be the public reaction if Samuragochi’s ghost-composer were to be an AI software and not a living person. Would that change the perception about the authenticity of his plagiarized music compositions? More importantly, what does it foresee for the future of art production and aesthetics as we rapidly progress into a Type 1 civilization (based on Kardashev scale), where our biological bodies are predicted to evolve to be partially integrated with digital / technological mechanization? 

The answer may hide in Marcel Duchamp’s essay / lecture from 1957 “The Creative Act” where he argues that the act of making art is consisting of a dialogue between the two “poles” — the artist, the creator, and the spectator (or the “posterity”), the people who experience the work. Duchamp suggests that the social value of art is defined not by the efforts or analysis of the artist, but rather by public reception. We, as a collective, decide what is “good” or valued.

The exhibition at The Container What if AI composed for Mr. S? gives the public an opportunity to reinvestigate the case of Samuragochi, and to ponder on the future of art production and the value of aesthetics.

Shai Ohayon
The Container, director