I like to simulate things. Big things. Things that are very predictable in theory, but almost impossible to do so purely with intuition. Like a bunch of animals in a farm, or a bacteria growing in a petri dish. I like creating worlds and watch things change, move & grow; computer programs are particularly suited for creating such simulations, and I love to see them go over time. It is an art from on it's own; Artificial Life it's called. It is a wild conjunction of using scientific research in art, or using artistic exploration to contribute to the scientific body of knowledge. This is the only kind of poetry that I found that I am drawn to in the last couple of years.
These computer programs are squishy and apparently unpredictable; chaotic as James Gleick wrote. Sometimes you can see patterns emerge from a soup of chaos. Stephen Wolfram wrote extensively about it in his book A New Kind of Science. I am not sure how much of his work has ended up being assimilated back into the scientific body of knowledge. The study itself, I find fascinating. Creating randomness from seemingly simple rules, which in turn creates patterns out of said randomness is absolutely mind blowing to me. It scratches a very deep itch that I haven't had much chance to scratch since many years. But now that I understand how to use computers better, maybe I have a slightly better chance. A chance to create a world where I am, quite literally, a God. '
Is this God complex, I wonder. Why would I want to create artificial life inside of a computer. One could argue that it is an art form in the end. But it cannot only be about just creating a pretty patterns on a computer screen. I doubt it is God complex though, because why would a human God want to rule over tiny lifeless creatures. Speaking of creatures, should I even call tiny blobs on a screen, creatures? Can it be called life, at all? If it was life, do I have a responsibility for it? Do I have to run the computer program indefinitely to keep the tiny little things alive?
If it was poetry, I wouldn't mind throwing it away, burning the piece of paper. But the moment we call it life, artificial of not, isn't there some responsibility? On one hand, it is merely an overcomplicated way to paint a painting. One the other hand, you might be able to see behaviour and pattern that mimics that you and I call, life. One could, also argue, if the program is stopped, the so-called life inside of the computer just stops perceiving time. If the program was resume, life would resume. Existence being a function of time, is rather nifty way to get around the scary notion of ending (artificial) life.
I suppose I have ruined the fun of creating funky patterns on a computer screen for myself. Or maybe, I have to take good care of my creations. Which goes very much against my other pillar of values; I believe almost all of my creative work is worth nothing, and might as well be destroyed instead of giving me the feeling that those can be salvaged. This is a rather disturbing train of thought, so I will stop now, before I end up creating a philosophical tornado; which might be alive on its own.