I HATE instant noodles: a rant about art and artificial intelligence.

25/12/2025

AI is art. I'm sorry, I know it's terrible to admit. When someone looks at some seven-fingered abomination, at a strangely expressive face, at a grotesque composition, and something stirs within it, however repulsive it may be to some, what that person is feeling is the confirmation that it is art. It doesn't matter how much it goes against their own notion of good vs. bad, of art that elevates the soul and trash that rots the mind, of culture and ignorance. No group, however small or large, can decide to exclude an "artistic movement" simply because it doesn't please them. But that was never the problem. Poor quality art, badly made, without technique, without intention, existed long before the latest gepetê (a Brazilian slang term for a type of electronic device). The problems that accompany this new "tool," however, are different. It was presented to us in a harmless way. Hey, look at these funny images. When we realized it, they started replacing workers with their prompts, algorithms, data theft, and water consumption. The machine doesn't create new and original images; it only compiles, copies, evokes. And we do that, of course we do. When we use references, when we learn from new artists, every time we perceive the world and reproduce it. But what generates this copy? If a human copies, they are capable of creating. They are capable of improving in ways that a machine could never understand, because a machine understands numbers well, but a machine will never feel distressed by two different tones on the same screen. It is not capable of inventing new forms of expression because it doesn't feel and doesn't express. When I say that the images, texts, and the like generated by artificial intelligence are art, I say it with confidence, because art resides in the eye of the beholder. And denying this is not only denying the obvious, closing your eyes to the complexity of what art is, but also delaying the debate regarding this tool.

To be honest, I've never used artificial intelligence for creative purposes, but I don't condemn those who do, although I do condemn the practice. We DON'T need a tool that costs us so much to do so little. Many artists will argue that they use AI as a form of inspiration, to organize their ideas, as a starting point. My opinion on this behavior is that they still haven't understood what the creative process is made of. And this isn't a moral failing on their part; it's a plan that's being very well executed. The so-called creative process, a monster with a thousand teeth and sharp claws. Mastery over the creative process is what differentiates hobbyists from workers. And for clear reasons: art, if it doesn't fit the production model, is just a hobby. If there's no on-time delivery, if it doesn't meet the client's needs, if it doesn't respond quickly to demand and with "flexible" working hours, you're left on the sidelines. The art industry, from crafts to film, is a machine that crushes workers (like other industries), forcing them to deliver faster and in greater quantities, while quality is not discussed as much. Images, texts, and videos made by AI might not even exist if there weren't the need for more and more. More content, more advertising, more products, more profit, more capital. Artists will be paid less, hired less, and valued less and less as long as money is prioritized over the connection and expression that art brings.

Sure, none of this is new, but bear with me a little longer, I'll get there. Art isn't, essentially, a product, right? Everyone can make and appreciate art. So why not make art? And when you "make," why with AI? When someone writes a prompt, what that person is doing isn't creating art, they're commissioning art. They can appreciate and like it, but they don't go through the creation process of anything at any point. They conceived an idea and ordered someone else (something) to make it for them. And what do they lose in this process? A lot. Basically, everything. If you're building a product, you have to meet deadlines and goals, honestly, do what you have to do to the extent that you believe you can compromise your creative process. However, someone who makes art as a hobby, because they simply NEED to create, as we all need to, typing a prompt and receiving a crappy image is the equivalent of eating instant noodles for lunch. Do we eat them sometimes? Yes. But imagine eating instant noodles every day? Only eating that? And that's what we, as a society, still don't understand about art. Artistic creation is a basic need. Like eating, drinking, and sleeping. We can spend a few days eating instant noodles without dying, a few days without sleeping properly and continue producing, become dehydrated and still be able to stand, just as we can use AI to satisfy our artistic needs, but in doing so, we are compromising not only our well-being, we are compromising our existence.

You must be trying to contradict me now, saying that if you're someone who doesn't create, you don't have that need. That you have no gift, no talent, and art is only for artists. It's the same thing an anorexic would say about not being thin (enough). Of course you think you don't need to create, although you certainly consume. Going to the movies, taking photos, decorating your house, using Canva here and there, are just some examples of forms of creation and expression that we find in this daily madness, however, how often do you do these things? And how often do you consume more than you create? How much instant noodles have you been eating?

Instant noodles (which I hate, in case that wasn't clear) are the perfect metaphor for AI art. They're cheap, accessible, instant, and don't satisfy your need for anything, they only mask your hunger. We are hungry, tired, stressed, repressed, with ideas, feelings, and sensations that go nowhere but remain stuck in our throats. We don't know how to communicate, neither through words, nor images, nor symbols. We walk in circles shouting at each other, struggling, and not even making sense of ourselves. And this is no coincidence. We live in a society programmed to function this way, so that the maximum workload is ⅓ of our day, if not more, so that the salary is the minimum, so that only what is necessary to survive and produce is provided.

This isn't a new phenomenon; even before AI, this model has been followed for a long time. No one can create art unless it's for sale. And it's always sold with a filter applied to the artist. Only art that pleases capital is valued, encouraged, awarded, and adored. This shows us not only what capital expects from us as workers, but also how the rest of society should consume. And part of rebelling against this industry, this societal model, is doing what we are not allowed to do. Art can also be rebellion; it can be used to demand that our needs be met. We need to dance, sing, write, draw; we need to become complete human beings. We need to mark the streets of the city that devours us with paint, to paint each other with what we have best, to bring to light everything that remains hidden when you don't have time to listen and speak.

Have you eaten rice and beans today?