There are seven definitions of impression, from mimicking someone’s voice through to the mould of a mouth, but with the rise of artificial intelligence, where does the artistic merit of impression begin and end, and where could the rise of copycat technology take us? This is the terrifyingly urgent question put forward by Joe Sellman-Leava in his new show.
It is a show part-autobiographical and part-political, with Sellman-Leava using the school show he performed on his last day as a springboard to explore impersonation, identity and how asking the right questions is essential for human thought. But it is not just that. As a children’s entertainment creator, Sellman-Leava is increasingly worried about how artificial intelligence is infiltrating the creative arts, extinguishing the rich tapestry of artistry with its binary codes and expected, predictable outcomes. While Joe’s school show is the moment which sparks his foray into impressions, it is also a reckoning moment for his artistic beliefs, realising that art needs to ask questions that a human mind can construct: empathy, connection and compassion, three things fading away in an increasingly artificial landscape.
Yet artificial intelligence is not a new phenomenon, with Sellman-Leava referencing the first computer and using films such as Terminator to explore how humans have always attempted to use technology as a thinking tool, yet upon revealing the disturbing fact that over a million conversations between humans and bots happen each week, Copycat shifts from being an exploration of Sellman-Leava’s fear, to declaration that we should all be afraid of AI’s pervasive influences.
The eyes, Joe says, are the window into a person’s mind, something which cannot be replicated when talking to a computer. Indeed, the decision to use a paper-mache desk, various microphones and onstage visualisers to project Joe from various positions all tap into this notion that if we see something as being artificial, we can interrogate a little more quickly. Yet with AI’s faceless persona, that fades.
But it is not just this. Sellman-Leava’s work is rich in research, and the former class clown has done his homework here. The show warns of the hidden AI companies, not the bigger hitters like ChatGPT or Gemini, but the ones bubbling under the surface, harvesting data like Palatine, whose CEO is fascist Sir Oswald Mosley’s grandson, Louis. It is a terrifying concept, and one which Sellman-Leava leans into heavily here, with his warnings stark and urgent. We can safeguard ourselves, it seems, but when big business and state institutions such as the NHS are working with these companies, can we ever really feel protected?
And this is the crux of the show. To impersonate a person, and actively watch that impersonation, the detachment in a human’s mind enables art and reality to detach. Yet the increasing sophistication of artificial intelligence, and how it communicates with us, sees that sharp line begin to fade.
Although a few of the impressions can be a little disorienting, this is not as troubling as the potential destructive consequences of AI upon society that Sellman-Leava puts forward. Sellman-Leava’s warm and gentle performance style is aptly human, and aptly disarming for the chaos that he warns is on its way.
A prescient piece.
