The Beauty of Awe

In our conversations about Artificial Intelligence and its whirlwind of concerns–from job losses to water contamination to power consumption–basic elements of humanity sometimes get lost. In the wake of the Artemis II voyage, which showed to earthlings for the first time ever the dark side of the moon, photographer Daniel Levin takes up the loss and momentary restoration of something humans hold dear. — ED

Artificial Intelligence is revolutionary. Full stop.

I would argue that aside from AI use in Medicine, I could do without any of it, as the cumulative benefits of AI fall far below its societal costs.

While my greatest concern is the fact that I believe everyone deserves the right to have employment so they can support their need for food, shelter, and healthcare, there is an equal, yet profoundly different, concern I have with the AI paradigm shift.

I no longer have an important Awe in my life… an Awe that I have had though my entire adulthood. I would not have guessed that someday this Awe could be out of my reach. I am referring specifically to the viewing of photographs and films. While Awe comes to me rarely, when it does, I feel profoundly alive.

Today we experience viewing photographs and films with enormous skepticism. We have no reason to approach the experience of viewing under the assumption that the person, place, or actions in front of us ever existed. We don’t even have a reason to believe a camera and lens were used to make the work(s). As a documentary photographer, and historian, I am heartbroken.

In 1826, using a primitive camera, French inventor Joseph Niépce made the first photograph. On a recent evening, the astronauts of Artemis II became the first humans to view the dark side of the moon. This event  communally gave us our Awe back, as each astronaut made use of every second with their Nikon D-5 cameras, their smartphone cameras, and their GoPros, to create documents of their sublime experience so that they can share the miracle with each of us.

It is my wish that all nations find a way through creating a universal AI icon and requiring it to be displayed on all photographs and films that generate their imagery through AI. The goal would not be to tell us what is not real, but to allow us to believe what is.

By doing so, we can once again experience what is indescribable through the beautiful word of Awe. In the meantime, here’s to you Joseph Niépce, 200 years later, as we celebrate the Artemis astronauts who used your camera, as our greatest minds never came up with a better tool than the camera to share with us the beauty of Awe.