Swan Lake and AI
I watched Swan Lake on Saturday. I had bought the tickets months in advance and had been eagerly anticipating the performance. As you know, I love Tchaikovsky's music, and this particular ballet holds a special place in my heart. In the grand, old theatre, as the lights dimmed and the first notes of the prologue played, my mind drifted into an enchanted world... and then—cough.
A cough. One of those unpleasant, half-wet, half-dry coughs, three seats to my left. Worse still, it was a child coughing. Over the next hour, with no regard for the rhythm of the music or the sacredness of the space, the child continued. The person sitting next to me—clearly an opera and ballet connoisseur (they had brought binoculars)—began throwing increasingly annoyed glances to the left, making their disapproval clear to the child's guardian, and to the right, seeking my silent support.
As twenty-four exquisite dancers, draped in white, performed the iconic swan routine on stage, the coughing evolved into a full-blown heckling. Finally, the parent or guardian came to their senses and took the sick child home—mercy for the child, mercy for the audience. The rest of the performance unfolded beautifully, free of distractions.
And now, let’s talk about AI.
I can imagine a near future in which experiences like this could be generated with a few clicks. You want to watch Swan Lake? Simply choose the dancers, the costumes, and immerse yourself in the performance through a VR headset, as if you were there. It would be flawless—every note perfectly struck, every movement precisely timed, and, of course, no coughing.
I can picture a tech executive presenting such a vision at a sleek, festival-style event. "Imagine a world where you can enjoy the finest ballet performances, operas, and symphonies without distractions. A world where you control the aesthetics, tailor the experience to your preferences, avoid the stress of commuting, and avoid the inconveniences of an unpredictable audience—all at a lower cost," he would declare. The crowd would go wild, clapping, cheering, and whistling (evidently, not a true opera crowd).
As I witness the rapid advancements in AI, I cannot help but question whether we are moving in the right direction. In the old opera house, I couldn’t see everything in perfect detail, but I heard the music, I heard the audience—the creak of seats, the landing of pointe shoes, the coughing. The experience belonged not just to me but to the group. I worry that today’s technology nurtures a culture of isolation, designing realities so polished and sterile that the messy, chaotic beauty of real life struggles to compete. But does it have to? After all, isn’t imperfection part of what makes an experience truly real?
This may sound like an old grump afraid of change. But the reality is more nuanced. I worry that as AI and technology advance, we are becoming increasingly passive—spending hours consuming content rather than creating, or truly experiencing something with others. Ultimately, what I want to express is that it feels as though we are on a train moving so fast that we cannot enjoy the view outside. And it is becoming harder and harder for me to believe that this is the right direction. As much as AI can be a helpful tool, it is derivative, repetitve and, to certain extent, simplistic. Sadly, AI is being used to replace artists and creators, and even Meta trained its models on illegal copies of books—so in the future, it may become difficult to find novels written by humans. Is this the right path? I don’t think so. Isn’t art about the process—of learning, discovering, and creating—rather than just the final product?
Before the train derails, let's make and experience art this weekend.
Tell me what you think. Thank you for reading
Wiktoria
PS. Looking for an AI-free short story? My friend, Heidi Marjamäki, got hers published, and it will give you goosebumps!
PS.2. This week, in the music corner, my favourite dance from Swan Like: