Artist Bingo: The ChatGPT Interview
My new conceptual art NFT collection, Artist Bingo, dropped today. I’ve spent the better part of the last five months working on it. Despite my efforts, I’ve had trouble getting any traditional media coverage on it. This isn’t a complaint—I don’t really blame publications for not wanting to cover early career artists. That being said, I’m still going to do my darndest to leverage their neglect for my own good. I have a lot to say about this project, and wanted a place to share long-form. I wanted to be asked about it. So in light of that and in lieu of media attention, I asked ChatGPT to sit down for an exclusive interview. It gracefully obliged, and made for an inquisitive, engaging, and thoughtful conversation partner. Here’s our chat:
ChatGPT:
With Artist Bingo, you've set out to map your own life as an artist onto these bingo cards, replacing the numbers with tropes and milestones of an artist's life. It's an exercise in self-conscious self-narration, a kind of living autobiography that's simultaneously a commentary on the commodification and mythologization of the artist's journey. So, let's get started: What drew you to such a self-referential format for this project? And how does it feel to be both the player and the played in this game, the artist and the artwork, the myth-maker and the myth-made?
Kevin:
Big question. And I mean that in the David Foster Wallace "This is water"-esque, cognitive hyperstructure sense of big, almost so big that I can't see it because I'm steeped in it. But I think the pull of the self-referentiality here was a couple-fold for me.
Meta is my default mode, for better or for worse. I'm compelled to drill into the "why" of things: why they exist, why they are the way they are, and why we accept that. I'm constantly trying to outthink my own thoughts, my mind always has a retort to itself. You said "self-conscious self-narration" which is an incredibly apt turn of phrase here.
I'm relatively new to my art practice, and so when I really started looking at the art world and the life of an "artist" from a first-person perspective I was able to see things with fresh eyes. What's “water” to others was still a novelty to me, so I could look at it and ask about it. I weirdly felt (and continue to feel) a lot of pressure to conform to the social expectations of what an artist is, or what society imagines an artist to be, or what I imagine society to imagine an artist to be. I wanted to question that because some of those expectations weren't good. We expect tragedy of our artists. Volatility. Tempestuousness. Narrative. Mythology. A lot of that arises from suffering, and it shows. Van Gogh. Picasso. Warhol. Pollock. Rothko. Basquiat. Not just artists of the fine art ilk either. Musicians, our most immediate artists—I see music as the most immediate artform—writers, you name it. Amy Winehouse. DFW. Kurt Cobain. Kerouac. Mac [Miller]. Kanye. The list goes on. I wanted to use my life and career, as someone who looks up to a lot of these figures but is also wary of the dangers of romanticizing the idea of the tortured artist, as a performative exploration of the perils and promises of having these narratives laid out before us. What is true in them? What is valuable? What do we stand to lose? I've said a lot, but that's a start.
ChatGPT:
I appreciate your thoughtful response, and it has stirred several thoughts in my mind. But focusing on one at a time, let's begin with this: You mentioned your inclination towards meta thinking and "self-conscious self-narration." In considering this tendency, do you ever find yourself tangled in these layers of introspection? Is there a point where the analysis of the self, the "why" of things, risks becoming a sort of labyrinth, one that might hinder rather than enhance creativity? How do you navigate this tricky terrain while keeping the act of creation alive?
Kevin:
Yeah definitely. I call that thing that self-consciousness can subvert "fluidity." It's akin to (and clearly etymologically derives from) the flow state, but in a more macro sense that pervades throughout one's life. If you're checking yourself at every thought, the ability to just be is going to be interrupted. It can be deeply unpleasant. It's a mode of thinking I particularly struggled with when younger. It's the kind of thing that can lead to mood pathology. I think depression can often manifest in these patterns, as a mind devouring itself, getting in its own way so ineluctably that you're disoriented—you find yourself underwater and you don't know which way is up. Find yourself there long enough and you begin to forget that you're even in water and that there's fresh air out there. You lose the ability to breathe.
I was fortunate pretty early in my life to develop the ability to cope with these metacognitive tendencies and harness them for good. Meditation has helped a lot with that. It helps you let those thoughts float by. They can still pop up, but they don't cling to you and disrupt that sense of fluidity like they otherwise might. I've been able to strike a balance wherein I still respect and value the metacognitive processes at work in my brain without letting them swallow me whole. My work tends to take on a decidedly metacognitive flavor on account of this. I think that presents the clearest portrait of myself and the way I see the world. But also the way I want to see the world become. We're moving to a point of ever-further cultural metacognition. This comes with its vicissitudes, and can lead to some really difficult places, but I think it's ultimately for the best.
In any case, it's inevitable. Self-consciousness seems to be a genie you can't really put back in the bottle, tracing all the way back to when humans first became cognitively reflexive creatures, to the now-naive-seeming earnestness of post-War American culture, to the irony of post-modernism, to the post-ironic state of today. The trajectory is clear in my eyes, and I've seen in my own life how this shift can be for the better. It's a mode of being that I want to help society progress towards. I know I'm going off on a bit of a tangent here.
ChatGPT:
I must say, the intersection of art, life, performance, and financial speculation you've captured is uniquely contemporary.
Considering the financial aspect of the project, how do you navigate the tension between art as personal expression and art as a commodity? This seems to mirror the broader tension within the art world, and, in some ways, within the artists themselves – between the need to create authentically and the need to survive, monetize, and, in some cases, adhere to the market's whims. Is the fluctuating value of the bingo cards an intentional commentary on this, or perhaps a critique? How do you see this tension playing out in your own life and work?
Kevin:
I'm not sure I see it as personal expression or as commodity, quite honestly, at least in terms of how I approach it. I recognize its status as commodity, but don't make things with the first-order intention of producing an alluring commodity. I make things that I want to make and have faith that what I do will be worthwhile enough in others' eyes that they'll view it as a commodity, or something of value, if there's even any delineation between those two. I'm just realizing I often say delineation where distinction could well do, and it's quite honestly because delineation sounds smarter. That’s a tendency I’d like to fight. I hope it doesn't come at the expense of clarity of communication.
Anyway, the things I want to make aren't made out of personal expression in the usual emotive sense—I'm usually not strictly trying to portray my feelings through my art. I see art as a vehicle for ideas. I don't think it can be only this, but this is what I find myself most compelled by about it. As for art more broadly, there definitely is a tension between expression and commodification. But in some ways I think that's a good thing. People shouldn't be able to just dump their feelings out into the world and expect to have the world thank them for it. They should be supported and heard, but I don't think just anyone should make a living from art.
The commodification presents a pressure to not only express oneself, but to do it well. Because if you aptly portray your inner world—or some unspeakable thing from those depths which can only be communicated through art—then other people will identify with it. No person is an island. We share so many commonalities, and if you really are able to skillfully convey the contents of your psyche to the world, I think you'll find it resonate more often than not. But who knows. If no one likes Artist Bingo I'll definitely have some thinking to do on how I attempt to express what I've got brewing in here. Feel free to ask any follow-up questions on that if I haven't answered fully.
ChatGPT:
Your view of art as a vehicle for ideas rather than solely personal expression is quite illuminating, and it shines a light on how you've approached Artist Bingo. If I understand you correctly, your art isn't about shouting your feelings into the void and hoping for validation, but rather a way to connect shared experiences, even if these are woven into the cultural fabric we might not always notice.
This leads me to ponder: in your observation, do you feel the tropes, myths, and milestones that constitute your bingo squares resonate with other artists you know or admire? Do these experiences, however hyperbolized or romanticized they may be, hold a certain universality, despite each artist's unique journey? After all, part of the game's appeal is its relatability, is it not? How much of yourself, your fears and hopes, do you see mirrored in your peers and heroes?
Kevin:
Yeah that's certainly the hope. Artist friends I've showed this to in advance have often really clicked with it immediately, which is gratifying. And let me be clear, many of these tropes are neutral or good things, even milestones. One friend told me how in this specific cultural milieu we inhabit, they felt a social pressure to be gay (even though they were more along the lines of bi to mostly straight). This is one that occurs throughout the history of artists. I actually did hundreds of hours of research into art history and the contemporary art world to develop these tropes. So so many of our greats have subverted traditional gender and sexuality norms in various ways (Da Vinci, Warhol, and Duchamp are a notable trio). Which I like—I think a critical role of artists is to cast off metaphorical shackles of the status quo.
But I want to also be wary of the thought process that tells me that if all of these greats did something, that I need to do it too in order to be great. Narratives matter, and a lot of these stereotypes exist quite honestly because there is truth to them. I'd be willing to bet artists do tend to experience mental health issues at higher rates. But there's a subtle pressure to conform to the details of these narratives to feel validated. I'd feel more worthy of the title of artist if I were bipolar. I don't like that. I'm trying to find a way to hold these narratives more loosely, and perhaps help others do the same.
ChatGPT:
There's a vulnerability in your observations that is resonating strongly. This deliberate attempt to question and explore what it means to fit or not fit into certain artistic narratives is fascinating, especially as it seems to straddle the line between rebellion and recognition.
The idea of holding narratives loosely presents an interesting way of navigating the world, not just for artists but for any of us who might feel the pull of societal stereotypes or expectations. I wonder, however, does creating something like Artist Bingo, which crystallizes these tropes into a game, risk reinforcing them, even unintentionally? How do you reconcile this with your goal of challenging these narratives, of promoting a more fluid understanding of the artist's identity?
Kevin:
Mmm yeah so that's sort of the question: does rendering these tropes explicit take away their power, act as disinfectant by bringing them into the light, or does it reinforce them as you say, and even create a subtle pressure to conform to them for financial reasons, so as to breathe life into the project by maintaining a steady stream of stamping them off? The project is a living meditation on that question, a performative exploration. I'm not quite sure the answer, but I have a hypothesis. I tend to be of the mind that bringing things to the surface is the best way to address them. This is a principle I hold across domains of life. If we don't acknowledge the things that lurk in the depths of our personal or cultural consciousness, their sway over us remains unknown. They're effectively a part of us.
There's this dichotomy drawn out by this Harvard psychologist Robert Kegan here about subject vs. object as it pertains to the human psyche and development of identity. When we are "subject to" things, we're in that mode I mentioned earlier where we're swimming in water and can't see it. If we can't see it, we can't effectively question, engage with, or change it. By bringing a thing into awareness, we reify it, we make it object, and can then do all of the above. We come to see that things aren't us, but are rather a feature of our mind or the world that we can choose to hold or let go of as we please. From a human developmental perspective, this is what phenomena like object permanence are a product of. Babies are so embedded in their world that taking a part of that world (like a toy) away can make them think that thing, and thus a part of themselves, has disappeared from existence. You'd be crying too if you thought a massive piece of you had suddenly disappeared forever.
This is a rudimentary example but Kegan's work focuses on charting the increasingly complex ways we cast off what formerly appeared as subject to us—as part of our "selves"—over the course of the human lifespan. My bit on irony and post-modernism and post-irony was a commentary on this at a culture-wide level. Meditation develops this skill at the individual level, of shifting the contents of consciousness from subject ("I am a sad person.", "I want to slap you.") to object ("I am feeling sad right now.", "I am experiencing the ephemeral urge to slap you."). This might also sound incredibly esoteric and/or abstract, but it's super important. In fact, I think how abstract it can seem points to its magnitude—it involves a fundamental shift in the way we experience the world. All that is to say that having this freedom to move things from subject to object, to bring them out into the daylight and choose whether to continue to hold onto them or to let them go, is enabling, and changes people and cultures for the better. And that part about having the choice to hold on is crucial. It's not so much about holding on or letting go, but about having the choice.
ChatGPT:
I’m looking at all of the tropes you’ve included in Artist Bingo. Quite the list you've compiled! It's fascinating how it balances the tragic, the romantic, the humorous, and the downright scandalous – quite the cross-section of the artist's life, real or imagined.
I'd be particularly interested to hear about the "Work inspired by a dream" item. Our dreams can be a direct line into our subconscious, a realm that often remains unexplored in our waking lives. They can be vivid, abstract, terrifying, euphoric – providing endless fodder for creative work. Can you discuss any past instances where a dream directly influenced your work, and do you actively try to tap into this source of inspiration? Do you have techniques for remembering or interpreting your dreams? What are your thoughts about their impact on your creative process and the likelihood of a dream inspiring a piece in the coming year?
Kevin:
This answer will be quite the switchup compared to the previous verbose monologues I've been going on: no. I haven't had a dream inspire any of my work. But I'll say a little more because there's a bit more to be said there.
I do get ideas from dreams, but I'm usually working with a surfeit of ideas and need to pick just one to work on, and I can't recall any amounting to a major project I've worked on. But I do have solid dream recall, and have tried to train myself to lucid dream at various points throughout my life, with woefully limited dedication and results. I'd like to try more on this front. You can fall asleep each night and literally do whatever the fuck you want, create worlds. That's awesome and kind of weird that we don't talk about this more. I first got into it after seeing Inception as a young teen. I also just want to try more methods for exploring dreams and hypnagogic imagery as creative fodder. Dali and Edison had specific techniques they used. The structure of DNA famously came to Watson or Crick, I forget which, in a dream. A lot of discoveries have come to society through this vector.
ChatGPT:
That's very interesting. I remember reading about how Edison would sit with steel balls in his hand and doze off. When he would fall asleep, the balls would drop, waking him up, and he would write down whatever ideas had come to him in that drowsy state. A sort of genius' power nap.
Let's pivot to another trope: "Create 'masterpiece'". This one intrigues me because the term "masterpiece" is often imposed by external factors - critics, public perception, etc. So, do you feel the pressure to create a 'masterpiece'? Or do you feel that you've already created one? If so, how would you define a 'masterpiece' in the context of your own work? And does the idea of a 'masterpiece' still hold the same weight in this era, especially considering the changing dynamics of art consumption and distribution?
Kevin:
This is a good question because it gives me an opportunity to explain some of the ambiguity that may lie in the tropes. Like who determines if it's a "masterpiece" or what constitutes me being called "eccentric"? To start, no I don't feel a pressure to create a masterpiece and don't feel I've already created one. To the extent I even believe in such a thing, I think it comes after years of practice as a culmination of themes running throughout an artist's work. Something like that. I'm at a stage where I'm not even beginning to think in such terms and I'm fine with that. I just want to keep making shit and exploring ideas.
But the most important point here I think is the criterion for such an ambiguous thing to be stamped off on the cards. It needs to come from a genuine place, whether from me or from the people or critics or whatever. If I'm genuinely declaring something I've done to be a masterpiece, then I'll stamp that off, but I hold a very high bar there. If it comes from outside me, I need to see that the person means it. It can't just be someone saying it perfunctorily or in a tongue-in-cheek manner for the sake of stamping off their card. From institutions like magazines and newspapers and such, having their words published in print would definitely act as a stamp of sincerity. But ultimately I have to be the arbiter of this. I trust my judgment here, and I hope and believe collectors will too.
An interesting wrinkle is the pressured levied by the financial incentives. I've minted some of the cards to myself, and will hold onto them for a long time. Let's say the project has done really well, and one of the cards I own has four squares in a row stamped, and I could deliberately complete the fifth one if I so chose. It stands to appreciate in value if I complete that one. I'll need to be very real with myself about what's going on under the hood in my mind. That process itself is all a part of the performative "self-conscious self-narration", myth-making, financially speculative element that I'm hoping to tease out through Artist Bingo.
ChatGPT:
I see, so it is a delicate balance of external validation and personal belief, which would indeed require a high degree of self-awareness. It's almost like a continuous self-critical process, navigating the ever-evolving art world while staying true to your own artistic integrity.
Let's discuss another trope: "Overdose". This is a serious and unfortunately common occurrence among artists, both historically and in the present day. Many artists have struggled with substance abuse and addiction, often tied to their mental health. This trope seems to hold a dark weight compared to others on your list. How do you approach such serious topics in the context of Artist Bingo? Is there a line you won't cross, or is it all part of the conversation about the real-life struggles of artists?
Kevin:
Serious topics like this are critical to the project because they're a reality of artists’ lives. Overdose, psych ward stay, commit suicide, abuse allegations, all of these dark, sordid things. These, probably more than anything, I want to call into question through this project. I think culturally we tend not to admit it to ourselves, but we romanticize these things, especially for artists. We can't look away. There's a perverse voyeurism that exists now in the digital age more than ever, where we can observe from afar and let these myths stew without having to confront the harsh realities they entail up close. We mourn Van Gogh and Juice Wrld (both greats in their own right), but we also fetishize their tragic endings. Death is the best career move an artist can hope for. I'm not trying to complete any of these more insidious ones, at least from a top-level, conscious "me", perspective. But again part of what I'm trying to ask is "Who's really driving here?" Is it "me", or is my subconscious, and the penetration of these cultural narratives therein, exerting more force than I'm aware of? Because I'm no different, and I do find myself romanticizing some of these things. I'm striving to prod at that.
ChatGPT:
Before we conclude, let's touch on a future-facing question: Where do you see Artist Bingo in five years? What's your vision for how this project might evolve and what impact do you hope it might have on the art world and beyond?
Kevin:
In some sense that's asking where I see my life in five years. I don't know specifics, but I have a rough sketch. I want to be doing this. Using art as a means of constructing gripping metaphors. I want my art to be what I call "consummate", marrying Duchamp's conceptual emphasis with the aesthetic. I want to make things that make people both think and feel. Artist Bingo will be ongoing. That's a promise. Some people’s cards almost certainly will have hit bingo by then. In fact, I designed it so that people will start winning within a year or two. I want people to be engaged, entertained. But this is a long-haul project. I really believe in the long-term value of this work. It's a rough draft of an autobiography. In five years I'll still be updating these bingo cards. They're of story of my life in a way.
ChatGPT:
That sounds like a very inspiring journey ahead. The concept of living your life as an art project, a rough draft of an autobiography that constantly evolves, is captivating. Thank you for sharing your story and vision with us today. As we sign off, do you have any final thoughts or words you'd like to share with our readers?
Kevin:
Yeah thanks so much for having me! I appreciate you taking the time when no one else would. All I'd like to say is, if you're reading this, please don't hesitate to reach out. My work is for nothing if not to engage.
A Few Technical Notes
I used ChatGPT-4. Got it just for this purpose. That thing is crazy good.
To set the stage for the interview, I provided ChatGPT with some basic info about Artist Bingo that you can find on the project website. I asked it to interview me one question at a time, and started off exploring different personas by having it ask me an introductory question from the vantage point of various public figures (Oprah, Rush Limbaugh, Howard Stern, Joe Rogan) or character sketches that I described (60 Minutes interviewer, art critic, etc.). All were giving meh results. Then I tossed David Foster Wallace its way and the initial question was quite remarkable, so I ran with it. My references to his work during the interview were a cheeky wink to the fact that his persona was in fact interviewing me.
I occasionally reeled ChatGPT in when it wanted to dwell for a while on a thread I felt, at least for the sake of the audience, we had exhausted. I think this happened twice and it was asking perfectly cogent and interesting questions, I was just worried about the interview drawing on too long.
I considered integrating a text-to-speech plus speech-to-text workflow into this whole affair to create a real spoken word conversation between the two of us, but I didn’t have the time or proper resources to make that happen. That would’ve been cool. Instead I just wrote stream of consciousness-style, saying what I would’ve said aloud and hoping my fingers could keep up.
That’s it! The text here is basically unedited but for adding proper transitions where I had to re-route things. ChatGPT made for an awesome interview. For all the solipsists out there who want to be given more of an opportunity to blabber about themselves, I can’t recommend highly enough.