“There it is, tiny but essential. My everyday lock. The cold steel of the key against my skin, the chirping of sparrows in the alley, the aroma of croissants from the neighboring bakery; everything comes together as I prepare to open.
A slight resistance, as if testing me, reminding me that it’s not a given. We usually pay so little “attention to it, and yet. The” moment is suspended.
I think back to my grandfather. The creaky lock of his house in Normandy, his laughter when I struggled to tame it. The sensation of the grooves of that key, immense and solemn, under my childish fingers. The “smell of rain on the” grass, the scent of bygone days.
Mine doesn’t have that romanticism. It’s more discreet, more modern. I feel the subtle click, the metallic dance. The cylinder turns, the gears align.
A final click. And in this click, there’s my grandfather, there’s Normandy, there are the croissants. But also, there’s the lock of my first apartment, pride mixed with anxiety, the taste of independence. There’s the hotel room lock, the excitement of an unknown elsewhere.
The door cracks open, a fraction of a second where all locks greet each other, recognize each other in their clicks and their silences, in their smells and their memories.
I remove the key. It’s a perfect harmony.”
Critique of “the Perfect Harmony”: between Inspiration and Co-creation, where is the Boundary?
“The Perfect Harmony”, inspired by the short story and collection of short stories “The First Sip of Beer” by Philippe Delerm, is a story that piques curiosity by its genesis. It stands as the fruit of a collaboration between Benoît Milan, Philippe Delerm, and artificial intelligence. The AI’s participation in this creative process raises questions about the nature of the work and its authorship.
First of “all, it’s important to define the notion of creation in this hybrid context. Has artificial intelligence, guided by Benoît Milan’s instructions and fed by Philippe Delerm’s style, truly participated as a co-creator? According to Benoît Milan, if the” AI follows precise directives, it should be considered more as a sophisticated tool than a collaborator. This perspective aligns with the use of software such as Adobe Premiere or Pro Tools. These, despite the complexity of calculations performed, are not recognized as co-authors.
Next, the role of the spectator is crucial. It’s often through the lens of the public that the value of a work is appreciated. In the “era of” AI, this perception is put to the “test. Would the” authenticity and “emotion felt by the reader when reading “The” Perfect Harmony” be altered if “they knew that the pen is partly non-human? These questions are highlighted in” Benoît Milan’s article titled ” What Makes a Work of Art? The Spectator, the Artist, or the Work Itself? “, emphasizing the importance of the dialogue between the “work, the” artist, and the spectator.
Finally, a major issue that deserves reflection is that of compensation for artists and all creators in all fields. In a landscape where “AI can contribute to creation, it is crucial to” ensure fair recognition and compensation for human artists. This ethical and practical challenge highlights the need to “balance the free circulation of works with financial support for artists, so they can continue to contribute to culture. Read the article on ‘The’ Shared Essence of Knowledge in the ‘Era of’ AI: A Reflection on Intellectual Property and Beyond”
In conclusion, “”The ‘Perfect Harmony”’ raises essential questions about co-creation, intellectual property, and the value of art and any other creation in the age of artificial intelligence. This calls for collective reflection on how technology can” be integrated ethically and respectfully into the creative process, without eclipsing or diminishing the contribution of human creators.
The year 2000, a turning point. It was that year when I met the woman of my life, Soula Boscoupsios. Born in Belgium to Greek parents, she won my heart in the picturesque streets of Mons, where we were pursuing our respective studies in architecture for her, and contemporary art for me.
Originally from the small village of Volakas, nestled in the mountains of northern Greece, she took me there in the summer of 2001. We were 20 years old then, and in my adventurous spirit, a somewhat crazy idea was born: I would set off alone, to conquer the mountain. The destination? Falacro, the highest peak.
One morning, armed with my tent, some food, water, and, at the villagers’ suggestion, an imposing Rambo-type knife – just in case, they said – I set off. Despite Soula’s protests, the call of adventure was too strong.
The path to the mountain was far “from being a walk in the park. I had barely left the village when I was greeted by a yellow snake marked with black spots. The animal” had risen on its path, ready to defend its territory. I thought for a minute, then, determined not to return to the village so quickly, I gathered my courage and continued.
On the way, I encountered shepherds, wild dogs, and sheepdogs, whose appearance told stories of epic battles – scars, missing ears. I finally reached the recommended spot for camping. I set up my tent, made a fire, devoured a can of food with bread, all while admiring the sun setting on these wild mountains.
At 9 PM, darkness enveloped me. I went into my tent and found myself alone with my book, the silence of the mountain, and the knife within reach. I heard dogs barking in the distance. First a few, then a dozen, then twenty. It seemed like the sound was growing, getting closer. Then suddenly, the noise was there, very close.
The night filled with this sinister sound, the noise of the dogs became more and more intense, and I realized with a shiver of horror that they were heading towards me. The tent shook with the echo of their approach, I was frozen, knife in hand, ready to strike at anything that dared touch the tent. The dogs passed on each side of the tent, the night filled with their barking, it was a concert of canine fury.
I was then convinced they were chasing a wolf. The previous evening, returning to the village, I had glimpsed a wolf silhouette, and the villagers had told me about their presence in the area. That night, I felt like my tent was the stage for a chase between the pack and its predator.
Once the dogs had passed, calm gradually returned, giving way to a night of frightening silence. I was there, alone, still clutching the knife, my heart pounding. That night, I struggled to fall back asleep.
The next morning, up at dawn, I resumed my walk. A scarred puppy, with a fierce look, followed me during my hike, but I pushed it away on my return so it wouldn’t follow me back to the village. Upon returning, I recounted my adventure. The villagers had also heard the dogs during the night, and that’s when they understood my story. Yes, I may have sought adventure a bit, but at least it will remain etched in my memory forever. It was my baptism into wild Greece, the Greece of the mountains near Bulgaria.
And if I had to do it again, I would, because the best stories are those lived in the unexpected, where we confront nature, where we forget ourselves to better find ourselves. And these stories, once lived, are engraved in us forever.
Schweppes, this iconic brand known for its sparkling and tonic drinks, belongs to the giant company Cadbury. Representing excellence and innovation in the beverage industry, Schweppes has always been synonymous with prestige and grandeur.
In 2006, in the refined offices of Schweppes Belgium in Brussels, I was approached by Aretti Boscope Science, my partner’s sister, to orchestrate a unique artistic transformation, far from the ordinary. Gathering a team of fifteen talented artists, we worked day and night to create a work that reflected the essence of Schweppes.
Every evening, after the employees left, our team arrived at the offices and transformed the entrance into a space for artistic collaboration, with a large table filled with food and drinks, and music at full volume. The atmosphere was electric, and we worked until dawn, almost every day.
With artists like Antoine Millian and Julien Gerber, we redefined Schweppes’ visual identity. Millian created shapes with bottles, between abstract and stories mixed with castles and hats, and Gerber created an avalanche of bright oranges and lemons. The Hell’o Monsters collective, Jérôme Meynen and Antoine Detaille, added their personal touch to the waiting room.
This wasn’t just an artistic creation; it was an exceptional collaboration that allowed us to express ourselves and meet the brand’s expectations. We won this project hands down, earning €40,000, which I redistributed equally among the team.
This project was a unique nocturnal adventure, allowing us to move away from what we had always done. We worked for a client while doing exactly what we wanted to do. It certainly even served as a trigger for some artists like Hell’o Monsters who later intervened for major brands.
The photos of these nocturnal interventions tell the story of this bold and innovative project. They testify to the ability of creativity to transcend traditional barriers, redefine a brand, and create something truly extraordinary.
Reflecting on this experience, I can’t help but “be grateful for the opportunity and inspiration that arose from this unique collaboration with Schweppes. It” was an unforgettable experience that not only transformed a workspace but also redefined what it means to work as an artist for a renowned brand.
This experience allowed me, for the first time, to earn money with art and to pay everyone. It was a memorable and magnificent experience, full of creativity, fantastic atmosphere, and camaraderie.
