When I used to be high on creativity, if I narrowed too much on a creative pursuit, many novelty producing dreams came knocking. My own mind, stuck in a lucid state, would show me things that surprised me. Vivid concoctions of melodies, photography and art. I later coined it creative fever.
But almost none of it survived the morning.
Why was I being surprised by myself?
It seems this dream machine rumination has graduated and pulled me under again. The idea that the human mind can generate whole universes in dreams and we all carry a latent space where the feeling of any feeling can be felt — what it might be like to be conscious as any human that has ever lived, makes me wonder how much AI and LLMs also hold the stories of humanity.
These models have soaked in our stories, narratives, points of view and tastes, yet when we summon their creative sensibilities it seems as though they are frozen in a sea of sameness — a single point in the hyperspace of personalities.
And more and more, as I make things, a soft realization suffuses my approach to taste. A work that stands out almost always comes from an unusual intelligence, with a point of view unusual enough to cost it the comfort of being generally accepted.
Hyperspace is my attempt to give models a novelty producing soul of their own.