Continued work with the cut-up prompt to produce projective future-leak hyperstitions.
“enter a speculative command and “immediately see the results” in the visual field, this lack of latency is what allows the “future-leak” to feel present”
Another cut-up from the Autocad R12 manual processed by my Burroughs-ian agent.
“By following the “Primary Units” of AutoCAD, the architect provides the blueprints for their own incarceration. The Machinist doesn’t care about “Architecture”; he cares about the “Manufacturing of the Part.” When we defer to the AI/Algorithm, we are handing our “drawings” over to a Machinist who executes them with a cold, 1/10000th precision that leaves no room for human error—or human life.”
My music algorithm served me Spare Ass Annie, destabilizing any clear line between awake and dream.
The fog is alien, a grey virus from outer space, pressing against the glass and seeking entry. It doesn’t want money; it wants your coordinates. Extend the boundary until it snaps exploding the compound object of your being. This balcony is a terminal in every sense. A place where the human security system fails and the direct distance becomes infinite.
The text and video is an AI collaboration deployed in a dream journal. Text from an AutoCad R12 manual is processed using Burroughs-ian cut-ups and non-linear routines. The goal is to push the algorithms beyond their generic sense-serving function.
Using Gemini to create videos flying into speculative worlds imagined as satellite photos in midjourney
Welcome to 2026? Please return your seat backs to their full upright and locked position.
Exploring AI fabricated worlds. Imagining composite satellite photos with bacterial and manufactured qualities. Then using Gemini to fly around these environs.
The architect stood at the lowest point of the site, where the architecture dissolved into the quarry pond.
It was the “blue hour,” that suspended moment before sunrise when the limestone walls of the deep cut glowed a ghostly, pale violet. He rested his boot on the final step of the terrace. There was no concrete here—only massive, honed slabs of reclaimed Devonian limestone, salvaged from the island’s discard piles.
He watched the water. It was not the restless, crashing blue of Lake Erie, but a heavy, opaque turquoise, saturated with dissolved minerals. It was a mirror, perfectly still.
The water level was high. It lapped over the edge of the second step, darkening the pale grey stone to a deep charcoal. He had designed it this way—a Scarpa-esque negotiation between the solid and the liquid. A thin strip of inlaid brass, tarnished by the damp air, marked the boundary where the stone ended and the depth began.
He breathed in. The air smelled of wet rock, cedar, and the deep, cold history of the earth. For the last month, he had been alone here, “tuning” the building. He had adjusted the sluice gates, re-pointed the mortar in the courtyard, and listened to how the wind moved through the sleeping cells.
The house was a machine for observation, and he was its first subject.
Using #nanoBanana to generate story boards based on short #Gemini co-generated narratives. The text and layout on these story boards is native to the generated image, no post processing!
We are almost at the point of being able to fully render a cohesive project presentation without any modeling or rendering required. #generativeAI @ltu_coad
Did some #gemini co-writing to develop a short story, context, setting. Then used #nanobanana to create moodboards to explore atmospheres and material palettes. After a bit of tweaking of the prompts these board layouts with all the images are right out of Gemini.
Throwback to Nov 2022. I’m archiving images off my iPad and found one of my first successful series of genAI images with the blend feature in midjourney v3. I was mixing the Baker’s Monument in Rome with other images. The following spring we would be running Rome-ing Around doing this on site with students in Rome.
I still love the grotesque, abstract, and odd images that required a certain amount of squinting to see something and required imagination on the part of the viewer to make sense of the image.
Quick custom table for the Provost Office. The quirky cut out allows for corded tabletop tech. The cutout seems to initiate a distortion causing the entire table to bend and fill the space in an odd way. The length stretches to create a desk on one end and a meeting area at the white board at the other end.
Can the table destabilize the conversations held around it?
Empirically placed ikea legs for support, adding to an air of intentional irrationality.
This isn't pressure escaping, but rather, life asserting itself. The great doors stand within a place where the veil between growth and decay thinned to nothing. Perhaps spores, ancient and patient, drifted through the stagnant air, finally finding purchase in the micro-cracks of the aged wood and stone, feeding on dust and neglect. Or maybe it was an alchemical attempt to preserve or transform the threshold, a poultice of strange reagents that reacted with time and shadow in unforeseen ways.
What began as a subtle bloom, a faint whitening in the joints, soon escalated. This wasn't the slow creep of moss; it was a rampant, almost violent, efflorescence. The substance swelled outwards, a fibrous, foamy tide cascading down the impassive faces of the doors. It possesses the pale, urgent look of deep-sea fungi or rapidly crystallizing minerals, drawing sustenance from the very structure it engulfs.
The process seems paused now, the cascade frozen mid-flow, solidifying into brittle, stringy architecture. It drips and hangs, a testament to an uncontrolled reaction, a biological or chemical process that found fertile ground and erupted with startling vigor. The doors, once symbols of passage or denial, are now merely hosts, subsumed beneath this strange, overwhelming growth – a stark, unsettling beauty born from the convergence of decay, material, and perhaps, a touch of wild, unintended creation.
The old building, weary with the weight of rain-streaked history and sharp-edged modernity, began to dream. Or perhaps, it simply began to breathe differently. As dusk bled purple and bruised orange across the low horizon, a change started, subtle at first. From the deep joints between stone blocks, from the ornate carvings around the window’s stern gaze, something white and living seeped.
It wasn’t decay, not the slow crumble of time, but an emergence. Tendrils, fine as spun sugar yet dense as felt, reached tentatively, knitting themselves together. This was the Mycelium Cloud, born of engineered spores activated by the day’s specific humidity and the fading light. It grew not like ivy, conquering, but like a soft, protective tissue forming over a wound, or perhaps like condensed fog given fibrous form.
It climbed, silent and inexorable, muffling the city’s distant hum. It respected the window’s void but embraced its frame, softening the rigid geometry into something organic, almost molten. The material swelled into pillows and folds, a labyrinth of soft armor against the coming night, catching the last horizon fire in its upper reaches while its depths held the blue shadows. The stone wasn’t consumed, but transformed, held in a quiet, luminous embrace – a collaboration between human structure and bio-kinetic art, breathing a strange, beautiful life onto the edge of the fading day.
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Behind the scenes / how to:
I asked Gemini to help me brainstorm new materials by using unrelated words metaphorically. I tweaked the responses. Then I asked for a prompt for midjourney to situate that new material idea. Once I had images I asked Gemini to describe the image with a poetic narrative describing the scene. Then I used the narrative to prompt another set of images.
