As the platform approached completion, perceptions of artificial intelligence shifted from glee at this impossibly powerful toy, to something close to existential dread. If nothing else, this surely spelled the end of the human artist, the end of the possibility of making a living through art. And yet…the recordings that comprise “Wild Memory Radio” encapsulate two things that AI does not, and may never, possess: (1) authentic personal memories, and (2) an existence outside of the network.
In my dreams, I am never holding my phone. In my memories, I am always somewhere. Even if I’m remembering a mental activity, such as reading a book or having a conversation, it comes with fragments of sensory data attached: the smell of a room, the light on a ceiling, the softness of the swivel chair on which I am receiving the email. I am embodied, I am situated, I am in a place. That said, if I return there, it won’t be exactly like I remember it, so does it even exist at all? As Devendra Banhart observes, as he recalls the health food stores he’d visit in Caracas as a child, our relationship with the places whose memory nourishes us is not simple but complex, bittersweet:
“They were all called, you know, ‘The Unicorn’ or ‘The Wizard’. That’s where I try to return to, in my favorite music. What is that ‘mom’s health food store’ feeling of my childhood? This is, like, deep nostalgia. I’ve been thinking a lot about the word ‘nostalgia’. You know, it means homesickness in Greek. You know, this longing. This sadness for home. You will never get back to that place. So we just try to find it anywhere else.”
