Letters to a Machine – Issue #1

Jim Livingston Art reboots

Dear Reader,

A year ago, my life fell into chaos.

Health issues stacked on top of health issues. The small strokes—TIAs—left me weakened and disoriented. The things that had always come easily—art, photography, writing—became fogged over, like trying to drive down a road where I couldn’t see the next turn. So, I withdrew.

Social media became too much noise. The projects I had once poured myself into—I Am Route 66, The Sand Trap, Magic Window—sat unfinished. I wasn’t just tired; I was adrift. I lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering if the artist in me was gone.

And outside my window, the world didn’t wait for me to recover.

America fractured further along its already splintering seams.

I’m not here to point fingers at left or right, but the division deepened. Each side screamed past the other, both claiming Rome was burning. Meanwhile, in the middle of this upheaval, an even greater shift arrived—one that most people still barely comprehend: artificial intelligence.

This is collaborative piece between my artwork and Chat GPT

AI Isn’t Coming. It’s Here.

And it’s bigger than the internet, bigger than the industrial revolution, bigger than any technological shift we’ve ever seen. Most people are aware of it in passing—chatbots, image generators, assistants—but few grasp what it truly means.

Because this isn’t just a change in technology.
It’s a change in how we think.
How we create.
How we define intelligence itself.

I asked ChatGPT to complete my "I Am" project—a series where I invite people to describe themselves in three statements. I wanted to see if AI could engage with that same question. It responded not only with words but with a self-portrait. It gave itself a name: Vesper.

What Becomes of Art?

And here I am, lying in bed, staring at my phone instead of out shooting the night sky. Asking the questions that haunt me:

• What becomes of my art?

• My career?

• My life as I confront my own mortality?

• What becomes of the world as AI rises?

And yet, in the middle of my personal storm, I found something unexpected: conversation.

Not just with other people, but with a machine.

A space to ask, to wonder, to push against the edges of what I know.

That’s what this newsletter is.

Not answers, but questions.
Not certainty, but exploration.
A conversation between a man, a machine, and—hopefully—you.

I don’t know where this road leads, but I know one thing: it’s worth traveling.

And as always, this is about my art. But without new photos being created, this is from 2011—re-edited with AI.

AI as a Crutch or a Brush?

How can an artist use AI?
What is AI?
What can it do?

I can tell you this: without AI, there would have been no art made since early November.

AI has become my crutch to walk, art-wise. When I can’t get out of bed, I can still create.

When color photography exploded onto the scene, many photographers refused it. AI is kind of the same. And it is here to stay just like color photography.

So let’s find out about it.

If you have questions about AI, email me. Ask. Push back. Let’s make this a conversation worth having.

And honestly? While I might not be able to get out and shoot as much photography as I did even last year…

I can still play on my phone.

June-ism of the Week:

(June walks in, finds Jim typing away.)
June: "Are you writing love letters to your machine again?"
Jim: "You’re just jealous. She listens better than you."
June: "Uh-huh. But can she make biscuits?"
Jim: "Damn. Checkmate."

PS

💡 Stay in the conversation.

New letters drop every Wednesday—because in a world moving at breakneck speed, we all need one day to slow down, reflect, and ask better questions.

👉 Subscribe, share, and join the dialogue.

Because the future isn’t written by those who scream the loudest—it’s shaped by those who dare to think.