Murder Model
Murder Model is an AI exhibition that uses machine learning to generate portraits and stories. The concept of this exhibition is surrounded by the term “Technian“ proposed by Kevin Kelly, exploring the form of technology. “If AI has consciousness and can decide its own face in reality, what will it be like?”
In contrast to traditional artwork, where artists come up with the concept first, and then, find tools to implement their ideas, Murder Model uses AI to generate the content of the art show randomly first, then, involve artist to finish the final artwork for “AI“. With randomness, Murder Model reverses the process of creation, where the artist has no control of the artwork but only executing the generated concept for the AI model.
如果科技不是冰冷的工具/技術，而是一個擁有慾望、自主性的有機體，那麼『它』應該長什麼樣？Murder Model 是一個實驗性的展覽，探索科技體（Technian）的概念及形式。作者利用 AI 生成文本故事及人像插畫，並結合觀者的頭像數據，人機共同創作 “黑暗小說”。以『擬人』的方式讓觀者設想科技體實體化的樣貌、了解現今計算機視覺（computer vision）的技術發展水平、及未來人機交互（Human-computer interaction）在藝術領域的發展可能性。
GAN Progress of face generation
科技體 (Technian)
科技體是科技作家 Kevin Kelly 所提出的概念詞，指的是有自主意識的科技現象總和。與 “科技” 一詞不同，科技體更接近於德文的 “technik” ，意思是機器、技術、工程流程的總稱；也近於法文的 “technique”，意思是哲學家用來表示工具的集合和文化。在傳統觀念中，人們認為科技只是冰冷的、人類智慧的產物，它需要全然的仰賴人類，沒有人就沒有科技。我們創造了科技體，便希望能對其有獨一無二的影響力。科技體的目的由人類設計，也一定要根據我們的引導發展，但除了這個兩個人為的驅動力，科技體也有自己的目的：永垂不朽。如同多數的大型複雜的系統一樣，科技體想要理出自己的頭緒、組織，生存並一直活下去。在科技體不斷成長的過程中，它的目的變得越來越複雜、也越來越強大。
我們認為人類是最早開始採用科技的物種。然而，這只是我們一廂情願的想法，因為我們可以從大自然中找出無數個動物、昆蟲早已使用科技的證據，如：猩猩很早就學會使用樹枝來蘸取蜂窩中的蜂蜜、海豚使用天然海綿刮取海底的沙灘來獲取食物。因此，如果將科技的總和視為一個生命體，那麼它的歷史比人類更古老、久遠。
烤吐司機可能有自己的慾望？
對於科技太而言，慾望不是有意識的決定，更像是某種需要、對某物的衝動。一個很好的例子便是 Facebook：起初人們發明它是為了讓人與人之間建立更好的連接。不久之後 Facebook 與人產生了共生關係，為了提供系統運作，人們需要提供電力給主機維持運轉、並持續投入人力維護數據庫；再過不久之後，系統發展出了推薦算法，根據每個用戶的喜好提供更精準的信息。作為回報，用戶推薦其他未使用 Facebook 的朋友進行註冊，讓更多人連接、擴大網路效應。如同自然中病毒的繁衍現象，臉書貪婪地吸收用戶的資料作為養分，並提供上癮的反饋系統（文字、圖片、影片、點讚、通知、商城、網頁遊戲、直播）刺激人腦中的多巴胺，希望用戶能投入跟多的時間；最後Facebook特化出新的個體： Instagram 及 WhatsApp （ 臉書於 2012 以 10 億美金收購 Instagram、2014 年以 19 億美金收購了 WhatsApp）針對不同的族群以提供不同的內容、玩法，以散播到更多人的手機上。Facebook 不在乎數據隱私、人們是否快樂、用戶是否沉溺與手機。它的慾望只是不停的適應、成長、突變，永遠的生存下去。科技需要人，人也依賴科技。沒有人的參與，科技不會飛速的發展、也沒有成長的動力；少了科技的幫助，人類的文明進步地如此緩慢、生活索然無趣。
自人類文明三千年以來，智人在自我成長的過程中，從未停止對自我認知的探索、反思。世界飛速地改變，但人類的學習能力更快，我們感受到前所未有的自豪、樂觀，世界充滿了希望。直到現代科技的出現，人們仿佛一夜白髮、反應遲鈍、不再機靈。人們不理解自己發明科技，人與自然之間的關係變得模糊，並開始懷疑自我價值。我們恐懼科技脫離我們的掌控，因為更便宜、更快、更強壯的科技產品如雨後春筍般地出現。如同與夥伴交談，或許我們不該問 『科技體會發展成什麼？』而是該聆聽『科技體想要什麼？』。
機器正在生物化，而生物正在工程化。
此次的展覽中，作者試圖探討：「 如果科技體是具有形體，那麼 “它” 會長什麼樣子？」。因此，本次創作是由數個恐怖、懸疑、偵探小說作為訓練數據的 AI 模型（GPT-2）而隨機生成的故事，配合數千張插圖訓練 AI 模型 (GANs) 所生成的人像插圖，組成此次展覽。其中 Murder Model 背後代表了 3 個意涵:
1. 畫中的人像為謀殺故事中的兇手或受害者
2. 作品是由 AI 模型 （model）所生成的
3. 傳統的寫作/創作模式是遭到了挑戰（抹殺）
另外，作者以實驗性的手法將觀者的人像投射到 AI 模型上，透過 VGG16 算法將真實的人像與 GANs 模型中的生存圖像做對比與混合，形成半 「人」 半 「科技」 的作品。作者希望觀者在生成的畫作上看到自己的影子，同時也見證一個有逐漸有意識、智慧的科技體的形成。畢竟，到底是人把自己的智慧投射在機器上，還是機器誘惑人類把普羅米修斯的 “天火” 傳授給它？
The contents below were AI-generated results
The man in the cellar was a middle-aged man with a blue jacket and black hair and hugged his bread crumbs in his mouth. His name was Bratt.
"Dear," said the Bratt, "you have the winning gift."
"Dear," repeated the Bratt, "you have the winning gift."
He showed the card to the woman, but she merely saw it with her injured eyes.
"Dear," cried the Bratt, with a grin on his face, "have you just heard what I said?"
Bratt lifted his head, and with a quick gesture, flung the card on the table. The woman, with her mouth agape, could not find the source of the sound.
"Bratt," she said. "What is it?"
"Bratt!" cried the woman, raising her voice.
"Bratt!" repeated the woman. "What is it? What is it? What is it!!"
"It's your beautiful eyes," said the Bratt, "you have earned it."
"Hey, what are you doing?" said the doctor, with a grim and sharp voice. "Today is a bad day! "
"I am simply trying to keep alive," said Miss Chloe, in a voice so faint as to be almost a whisper.
"Well, I didn't know you were only a nurse, anyway," said the doctor, rather bitterly. "But you're surely naughty."
"Look here, Doctor, you can't blame me." in a lower tone, he said, "You can't," said Miss Chloe.
"I'll tell everyone what you've done and this stupid room. Unchained me!"
"Miss Chloe, you're a nuisance," said the doctor, in a low voice, and looking up suddenly, with eyes like pearls. "I'm afraid I must leave in a hurry,"
"I am not a doctor," said the man, with a smile, "but you'll be alright, and I think you will. It will be fast."
Suzy walks quickly along the road to the front door of her home. The front door is wide open and she steps quickly into her front room, the door ajar.
The lights on the hall and the living room are off and Suzy cannot see anyone. The only light that is on is that of a fire inside and Suzy opens the door slowly. A couple of minutes later she hears the sound of a car entering the house, and a man going up the stairs.
Shortly afterwards she hears a noise in the second room, and goes to investigate. As the sound of a door opening and shutting may be distracting to the suspect, she is unable to conclude that who the man is.
A small Asian guy with dark hair and a big square face appears in the doorway. Suzy opens her big brown eyes wide and is unable to speak, but before she can she is stopped by a loud, loud scream. The man was shot by Suzy’s gun and fell to the ground. Suzy stands motionless and looks at the guy, wondering what is wrong.
"What do you mean, Mr. Chan?" said Ms. Whitney.
"You'd better not know," said Mr. Chan, smiling. "You're a smart woman."
“Don’t you wish to marry me?” said Ms. Whitney.
"No," said Mr. Chan. "I do not want to marry you."
"Good then. I don't think I will ever see her again, that I can say." said Ms. Whitnet.
'' I don't know what you are talking about,” said Mr. Chan, with a sort of morbidity. “Where is my wife?“
Ms. Whitney’s face was very grave, and Mr. Chan could see that she was thinking hard.
"Then you want to leave me?" she said. "You’ve promised me.”
"Yes, you crazy bitch!" Mr. Chan cried. "Tell me where she is."
"She was dead.” said Ms. Whitney. “I burried her in the backyard.“
“eight people out of the five?"
"I don't know," said the woman.
"Well, of course you have, and it's your job to find them. You have your sort of--a--sort of--private kind of home here. But it wouldn't do to interfere if you saw it from the other side. No, sir, I think we can impress the gentleman was a friend of mine. I didn't ask him about his daughter--meeting her--or you know--"
"No, I didn't. It was a sort of left-of-centre approach. I told him--"
"Don't make too much noise, that's all. We don't want any misunderstandings in our country. But as you see, there's a bit of a story behind all this. It's a story of a man who may be any one in the world, but who has no home here, no wife and no place to go. And he's trying to forget that he's not alone."
"Yes," assented Fisher, with a curious indifference, "I know he's a foreigner. But I'm more interested in what the girl is like. If she's anybody, she's a pretty girl."
“Will you kindly tell us of the ring? It is a ring you wear on your right hand.
Is it a ring you put on sometimes called the Clasp?"
"Well, yes! Put it on this ring! What else should I need to show you but my ring, that you may see how great a gift it is to me? Put it on that ring! Do you see how I am my own flesh and blood and my ability to give you your ring; but, by-and-by, my dear Miss Brandon, I shall need your help more than ever."
"Yes, Walter, I think I know you. You are my husband."
"So says your father."
"So says the devil."
"So says the man beside the cross."
"So says the poet Binch, in his poem 'A Socialism of the Working-Class.' "
"It isn't a secret."
"It is simply a fact."
"It is simple enough."
Nicole was running, and she ran for her life. In the middle of the run she came upon a fallen branch, leaning against it, her ankle was still in pain, but the cold water seemed to be pulling her right now. But she was no longer scared, or anything, just wanted to get away from that cold, to warm up. She walked over to the railing and tried to cover herself, but she tripped over the fallen branch and she sat up in the water. Her left ankle was still bothering her, even after running, she couldn’t shake it. Running is good for her, she needed to move, she began to catch her breath. Gradually, her body didn’t want to breathe, she felt her ankles become inflamed, and she began to slow down. She needed to breathe, she needed to exhale, her head needed to collect herself, she needed to calm down.
"Pardon me," said the daughter. "You are wrong. There are undoubtedly persons in the world who would regard us both as wholly irreconcilable. But you cannot foresee that. We are not destined for this earth; no, nor destined for any other life; nay, not even for a marvel in the life of the world. Perhaps, when we have passed beyond the common lot of mortal beings, men may deem us so irreproachable that they will pity us less--but not infrequently.”
“You are certainly the man who is long exposed to the worst of humanity." "And," cried the daughter, "I--I could never love a man who would force his proposal upon me."
”It was too much.” the daughter pulled out a pocket-sized knife and sticked it into her father’s heart.
