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On a factory shelf in Stoke-on-Trent, a white-glazed ceramic tile fresh from the kiln bears all of the hallmarks of ancient Delftware. Except for one thing. At the centre, an astronaut is drawn in painterly cobalt blue brushstrokes. The tile, one in every of many equally unlikely designs of its kind, just isn’t the results of a time-travelling Dutch master craftsman, but of an equally science-fiction-like work: artificial intelligence.
Frustrated by the shortage of expressive architecture and interior decoration, 25-year-old historian and computer scientist Adam Davies and 26-year-old London teacher Jack Marsh have set themselves the goal of bringing ornament back into buildings using twenty first century technology. Their company, Not quite overFounded earlier this 12 months, is an AI startup that creates tile designs within the variety of long-dead artisans and historical genres.
Custom designs are made possible by machine learning and customer input. After entering a word or phrase, Not Quite Past takes lower than a minute to create a pattern.
Current offerings take their cues from the Dutch Golden Era, Spanish painter Joan Miró and abstraction pioneer Wassily Kandinsky, with more styles within the works. The designs can be digitally printed on tiles and fired at a pottery in Staffordshire, selling for £9.99 each.
The idea for the corporate was born in Birmingham, when Marsh and Davies admired the ornate facades of the town's grand old institutions, designed by Victorian architects corresponding to Aston Webb and Frederick Martin. “We were amazed on the intricacy of the ornament,” says Davies. “In the Nineteenth century, industrialisation was used to create beautiful things – then in some unspecified time in the future the ornament was omitted.”
Not Quite Past just isn’t quite the primary project to revive the connection between industrial processes and architectural ornament. In 2018, Turner Prize winners Assemble used a 60-ton hydraulic press to Encaustic tiles with the intention of constructing products that felt handmade, but still got here off British production lines at reasonably priced prices. However, Marsh and Davies are pioneers on the subject of bringing AI into the combination.
“AI helps to advertise a brand new, localized aesthetic,” says Marsh. “It may help anyone translate their very own decorating ideas, their very own identity, into objects.” The playful and charming tiles are a fun expression of the evolving relationship between AI and architectural design.
From common image generators like Dall-E and Midjourney to specialized architectural tools like XKool and Veras, the range of AI software available today allows anyone with web access to visualise imaginary buildings and cityscapes—even governments. In March, a white paper appeared on the UK government website with eerie images that appear more Parisian than East Anglian, showing an imagined Cambridge of the longer term. But in lots of cases, these tools are limited to the fantastical.
However, a number of AI architecture tools are pushing these boundaries, corresponding to the digital platform Architechtures, which is exploring the usage of AI to design three-dimensional digital models of buildable residential projects.
The climate impact of this machine learning revolution is important. Google reported a 48 percent increase in its greenhouse gas emissions resulting from the increasing use of AI. Sam Altman, CEO of OpenAI, said on the World Economic Forum this 12 months that there’s “no way” to satisfy AI's future energy needs without nuclear fusion.
Marsh and Davies agree that machine learning comes with challenges. They are also aware of the concerns it raises about creativity. But, says Marsh, “I don't see AI taking on art. People thought photography would displace painting, and it evolved into its own art form. I feel they may coexist very happily. AI is a tool. It will just be its own department.” Looking to the longer term, the pair have plans to concentrate on making William Morris-style wallpaper.
This raises the query: What would the Nineteenth-century Arts and Crafts pioneer have considered AI-powered interior design?
Perhaps Morris would have admired Not Quite Past's democratising vision. As a socialist, he believed that everybody was entitled to “a little bit of eye candy”, declaring: “I don't want art for the few, any greater than I need education for the few or freedom for the few.” A world where everyone can afford bespoke tiles would surely have appealed to his egalitarian instincts.
But Morris was also an environmentalist, appalled at the best way industrial expansion was destroying nature. He may need been appalled on the ecological impact of artificial intelligence, even when used to provide charming imitation Delft porcelain.
