Notes from luke kurtis Archives

Can ChatGPT interpret poetry?

an AI-generated image of a robot deep in thought while reading a book — (by luke kurtis with assistance of DALL-E 2)

I like to ask ChatGPT to interpret my poems, curious about what meaning it might pull out. Sometimes I’ve even given it abstract and surreal poems, expecting it to hallucinate something totally off the wall. But, virtually every time, it comes back with an impressive interpretation.

I find this reassuring. It gives me confidence to know that if an AI can pull meaning out of a poem that aligns with my intentions as the poet, then I must have successfully imbued that meaning within the text in the first place. And I know it’s not merely copying what someone else has said because typically, I’ve shown it poems that have yet to be published but never even seen by anyone other than me.

So, asking ChatGPT for its thoughts on a published poem you may have read and sharing that with you would be interesting. I chose “sutras,” published in Amethyst Review. Here’s what it had to say, unedited.

An abstract image of autumn leaves — Photo by Anastasia Walker

The other day I watched a video about how time seems to go by faster the older we get. I definitely feel that. Where does the time go?

As time moves on, I like to mark the milestones along the way.

It’s the second November of the pandemic. That’s kind of a milestone. How many more Novembers before the old ways begin to fade? I already feel that to some extent and mostly feel comfortable with a new way of living, working, and being. Next November, certain things about the before times will seem even more distant. But there is also a sadness.

This weekend we celebrate Pride here in New York. Sometimes it’s easy to forget how vital Pride is because I live just steps away from Stonewall, the epicenter of where the gay rights movement began. It’s not because I’m unaware of the persecution against LGBTQ+ folks—I’ve lived through my share of hardships because of my sexual identity. But amid the comings and goings of everyday life, it’s sometimes too easy to become comfortable.

Building a better future for Cambodian children

It’s high time I bring you an update about my work to support Cambodian Children’s Destiny. As you may recall, last year when my Angkor Wat project came out I launched a fundraiser to raise money for the NGO school. Between the online fundraiser and additional in-person donations, I was able to raise about $1,500. This was enough money to construct walls for two classrooms and still have some left over for other needed supplies!

I also donated several gently used laptops for use at the school. These machines were old and clunky by our standards… but a precious thing for these Cambodians. It took a lot of love (and muscle) to lug those all the way around the world. But airport security didn’t bat an eye. I was prepared for all sorts of, “Why are you traveling with so many laptops?” questions. Luckily, it was no problem!

To give you a better sense of everything I’m talking about, here are a few photos from my visit to the school this past October…

Only the Beginning

In my Angkor Wat book, I wrote in the “ancient hall” poem, “this is only the beginning.” When I wrote that line, I had no idea just how prophetic a statement it was. Not only did I end up writing the entire book and album as they exist now, but I also traveled back to Cambodia a second time to do so. And now I am here for the third time. This time it wasn’t my book that brought me here, but my charity work for Cambodian Children’s Destiny. Today I visited the school in person for the first time. I have to admit that I haven’t been able to put the experience into words just yet. It’s so hard to describe what life is like in Cambodia. You have to see it for yourself. And, even then, the more I see, the more I realize that I never really understood it at all. The truth is that I probably never will understand it. That’s how different things are here. What I can say with certainty, though, is that I–and all of you back home reading this–are incredibly privileged. I know it’s hard for you to see that sitting where you are. It was hard for me to see it too. But from where I’m at right now, it’s perfectly clear.

“This is only the beginning,” indeed. I don’t know where I’m headed. I don’t know what will come next. But I know the things I have experienced have changed me. I will never be able to look at life and the world the same way again. And for that, I am eternally grateful.

Back in Cambodia!

Dear friends,

I decided I would make posts here to keep you in the loop in “real time” about my work in Cambodia. I just arrived in Siem Reap a few hours ago. After a more than 24 hour journey, I am, of course, beat. So at the moment I’m just relaxing for a bit and trying to adjust to the new time, new place, new… everything! But I’ve got to break through the jet lag so while I may have a brief nap, I have to make myself stay awake until a reasonable hour. You fellow travelers know what that’s like!

Independence Day stirs thoughts in me about the visual aesthetics of the United States and the role artists, architects, and designers play in constructing American visual identity. I’ve always been fascinated at how so much of American architectural style is based on Classical proportions.

Yoko Ono’s Conceptual Photography from Flying Tiger

In 2013, OR Books released Yoko Ono’s Acorn, a sort of spiritual follow-up to her landmark Grapefruit, which was first published in 1964. As a Yoko Ono collector, I was particularly excited about the special edition OR published alongside the standard edition. I was so excited, in fact, I made an unboxing video upon receiving it! It was something I did on a whim that turned out to be an important moment for me. Not only did OR love the video (they feature it on their main product page for Acorn to this very day), Yoko herself loved it and shared it on all her social media. That meant a lot to me! I see the video as a work of art in and of itself. If you’re at all familiar with Internet unboxing videos, you’ll notice how mine’s a bit different from the run of the mill fare. In particular I focus on hand gesture as I open and show the book on screen. It’s about a simple, everyday action (opening a package you receive in the mail) and elevating it to something visually interesting with formal properties that extend beyond then object itself and into a different realm of object-as-performance.

John Cage at MoMA: There Will Never Be Silence

There Will Never Be Silence: Scoring John Cage’s 4’33″ is a small show of work by artists influenced by John Cage’s ”silent” piece. Cage’s influence is no doubt immense. I count him upon my own pantheon of artist ”gods” who guide my way. It’s no surprise then that a certain Cageian influence can be found in my work, ranging from the recently-published “toilandtrouble” text to my photogram sonata for tranquil birds for solo voice in three movements (2001), pictured above. Like many of the works in the show at MoMA, my sonata is both visual art and music/performance score.

Yoko Ono Acorn: Open My Box

I’ve been waiting for my collector’s edition copy of Yoko Ono’s Acorn for months now. It finally arrived today, 1 August 2013. This is my unboxing video. I was a little disappointed that I didn’t get a better edition number, but what can you do? I’m pleased nonetheless. Enjoy. i ii iii

UPDATE 4 Aug 2013: Or books published the video on their blog (as well as their Twitter and Facebook). Chimera Records also posted it on Twitter and Facebook. Even Yoko herself posted it (Twitter and Facebook)!

the dead

relativity

writing about the emotional component of creativity–whether expressing your own art or experiencing the art of others–can be a difficult task. the experience of creativity impacts you in a way beyond everyday thought and reason. the very poem i posted here recently was about such an experience. i could not write about Madonna’s MDNA concert as if it were a mere review (besides, my friend Brian already wrote more than sufficient coverage if you’re looking for that kind of perspective). like in my ghazal, religious imagery is often the only way i can describe my most profound experiences of art.

ghazal (like a prayer)

i floated there, my face quivering with waves of prayer,
the sound washed over us like only the sound of prayer.

the chosen few. the lucky ones. only the faithful
know what it means to be blessed by the hand of god’s prayer.

our chant rose towards heaven in a chorus of light and
the veil of incesnse opened the world between here and prayer.

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