My future Pōneke doesn’t feature generative AI.
Today The Spinoff — who I am fortunate enough to write for on occasion — featured an article by guest writer Jonathan Manns, who is the “head of strategic advisory, government and public sector at global real estate services firm Jones Lang LaSalle”.
Using the generative AI tools of Photoshop and Firefly, Jonathan and his team put together their idolised versions of Pōneke, which look like a lot of biking, slab paving and, judging by their AI erasing the mural of esteemed Wellingtonian Whaea June Te Raumange Jackson MNZM on Queens Wharf, and paving over Shona Rapira Davies’ Te Waimapihi in Aro Park — pretty darn white.
Look, I come into this with a fair degree of bias against generative AI. I’m an artist, designer, writer — everything I do is threatened by generative AI, but this sort of thing is unimpressive and in bad taste.
I’m sure Manns and his team wrote this article with the desire to spark discussions around walkability and high-density growth in Pōneke, to consider what we could be without focussing on cars as much as we do, and the erasure of this kind of art was just something they overlooked…
But the heart of our city shouldn’t be an afterthought.
That’s the thing about generative AI. No matter what it creates, at its core it’s a tool that creates monstrosities by stealing from real artists. There’s a fair whack of irony in envisioning an urbanist future in Pōneke with AI when generative AI has a direct impact on the environment, and doesn’t even look all that good.
It lacks creativity. It lacks humanity, and more importantly, it lacks context.
The future I imagine for Pōneke is not one designed by AI. It’s not seemingly perfect with horrifying hidden depths, it’s not overly smooth or glossy, and it’s not whitewashed.
My Pōneke is one that celebrates its people and its ideals.
From the strange staircases of Mt Vic, and the nooks and crannies of Te Aro, to the underground bookshops, the enticing murals, and the artist spaces.
Shipping container coffee shops, theatres in living rooms and a giant hand looming over our city square.
Rainbow crossings, often repainted, because despite everything, we persist.
Rallies, Tino Rangatiratanga flags in the windows of flats, and traffic lights with silhouettes in them.
Urbanism that is hard won, but won nonetheless. Bike parks, green spaces, and accessible parking. A city for people, not a city for magazine pages.
Artwork and artists and joy.
He aha te mea nui o te ao? He tangata he tangata he tangata.
When all that’s glossed over, what’s the point of it all?
