Aesthetic

1.1
Visual Basis for Aesthetics

Andy Chen I’m drawn to creators who build their own worlds—who form new concepts, expressions, and a visual language that’s hard to put into words. I like work that shows a unique take on the world. Lately I’ve been into stuff that’s a bit bonkers—offbeat, kind of surreal. Like the posters Roosje Klap and Mathias Schweizer designed for the Dutch literary magazine De Gids—why is there a bed in that image? That sense of absurdity, when it clashes with familiar visual experience—creates a strong feeling of mystery and dissonance, like a glitch in time and space.

LIU Yu-Ju I also get that feeling when I see techniques or styles I’ve never encountered before. What moves me the most is that initial impact from something entirely new and undefined. It’s the unknown that draws me in. Work that’s hard to be defined or doesn’t follow trends—I tend to spend more time with that.

PENG Hsing-Kai ometimes I see works that are just visually pretty but don’t carry any symbolic weight, and I wouldn’t necessarily call those good. For me, symbolism is the core artistic instinct—a kind of emotional perception that’s exclusive, unnamable. It feels as though nothing else could be that. It carries this inexplicable presence—something that can only be experienced when you come face-to-face with it.

Yaode JN I look for suffering in the work. Has the artist truly poured themselves into their creation? That might be my criterion for what’s beautiful. If past pain and struggle have been distilled into something lasting, then those traces tend to reappear across the artist’s body of work. That transformation into aesthetic value—when I connect to it as a viewer, it feels meaningful.

PENG Hsing-Kai A few years ago we talked about how Flume’s music carries a kind of introspection—reflecting on the privilege of growing up in the dominant Western culture—enjoying the perks of it while being conscious of inequality. That internal conflict adds emotional depth, even though his career has been a lucky one.

Yaode JN Exactly. That self-reflection he leaves in his music—it’s rare to feel that in most works. And what you said about symbolism—yes, it’s a kind of trace. If all we're after is beautiful visuals or aesthetic pleasure, something always feels like it's missing.

PENG Hsing-Kai Creating symbols might be one of humanity’s original urges—to prove we exist. And viewing is tied to that, too. As a viewer, sometimes I experience this flash of insight, just from witnessing a work’s existence. That kind of reorientation through a symbolic network is something I really value.

Andy Chen That absurd feeling I mentioned—it's like, what’s it called again... Category III films? You know, that feeling of: “Whoa, how did this get made?” It’s a bit trashy but not too trashy—there’s a deliberate tackiness to it. And that ends up becoming its own kind of style.

PENG Hsing-Kai Not Category III films—you’re thinking of B movies. Category III is more like Crazy Love (蜜桃成熟時), that kind of adult film.

Andy Chen Oh right! B movies! Hahaaaaaaa I just couldn’t think of the name.

1.2
Applicability of Aesthetic Methods to AI-Generated Imagery

LIU Yu-Ju When Midjourney first launched, I honestly felt like the sense of mystery we look for in our own creative works could suddenly be generated so easily. That feeling has now become a kind of shorthand for AI-generated images, but it's lost its vitality. AI artworks still carry the mark of being AI—at least for now, you can clearly sense that the textures and materials are imitating human-made elements.

Andy Chen I feel like when it comes to abstract expression, AI hasn’t quite figured out how to create something truly nuanced or spiritually resonant. It often feels empty. What interests me more is how artists use AI—how they manipulate the tools to build symbolism. Is there any trace of historical context in the work? Has it been cleverly embedded into the piece? If it's merely a visual surface, then as Ruyu said, people will file it away as 'AI style' rather than recognizing an artist's unique voice.

Yaode JN I actually really enjoy AI-generated imagery. Before the tech went public, those images had no definite form or structure—they felt similar to the hazy moments of human consciousness. That strange, dreamlike quality—AI captured that really well. Later on, the illogical composites gave rise to a wave of “backrooms” and mysticism-inspired work. There’s a kind of boldness in those aesthetics that only really emerged in the world of generated images.

PENG Hsing-Kai There are two examples I think are worth bringing up. One is img.gn—a series of low-res, lo-fi images that feel like early memes or photos from the dark web, as if shot with an old phone. When the glitches and imperfections of AI are deliberately treated as a visual texture, those generated artefacts stop feeling obvious, and the illogical scenes suddenly feel eerily realistic.

Second is texture—Niceaunties has quite a mainstream aesthetic, often seen in those Instagram-friendly images of cute cats or capybaras. Her work’s even been featured in ELLE Decor Korea. She sticks to three consistent elements: elderly Asian people, cats, and jellyfish. That surreal combination overrides your awareness of texture—you’re just caught up in the weirdness of the arrangement.

Both cases create fully-formed worlds, consistent in quality and easy to mass-produce. They can evoke awe, the same way we once admired the craft of old-school creators. If the rawness of AI imagery can become a key element of expression, then AI’s current limitations no longer disqualify it from aesthetic consideration—just like we no longer dismiss digital art for showing signs of being “computer-made.”

So here’s the real question: if AI-generated images can build a cohesive worldview, can they also satisfy traditional aesthetic standards? Do our original principles of beauty even apply?

Yaode JN The experience of looking at AI images now is pretty much the same as looking at human-made ones. You’ll see something good and be drawn to it; you’ll see something bad and scroll past. But AI has opened up new perspectives—especially in how we reframe cultural frameworks. It can easily sidestep cultural references and historical baggage, making space for entirely new possibilities.

PENG Hsing-Kai I agree—there’s some AI art that I genuinely find beautiful. I think we’ll soon see a wave of backlash saying AI art “lacks craft,” because historically, aesthetic judgement has always included an appreciation of craftsmanship. That “no merit, but still effort” idea still influences how we evaluate images.

But when AI eliminates the need for craft, its biggest value might lie in how it helps us reconsider the relationship between humans and imagery. It could even push aesthetic judgement into a more purely sensory, visceral realm.