“Visual Journeys: A San Diego Artist’s Creative Reflection on Israel from Inspiration to Revelation”

There must be a multitude of photographs depicting Israel from the advent of photography to the current day.

I pondered how I could encapsulate the essence of the place and the diverse cultures within it. What alternative and captivating methods could I discover? I reflected on my ethnographic studies in Cali, Colombia, as well as on projects along the U.S.-Mexico border. I could invest in a more advanced camera. Alternatively, I could craft my own artwork. Through nearly four decades, here is what I have learned to perceive.

During my initial visit to Israel in 1985, I was merely a visitor. Many relatives of my wife resided there, having fled or been compelled to vacate Iraq in the early 1950s. That was when I captured photographs. I had yet to develop into a skilled digital artist.

It wasn’t until the late 1990s that I could repurpose my previous photographs. A journey into visual artistry and my connection to Israel began to take shape. I started to assign significance to my experiences in Israel. It was not only about being present, but being present in multiple dimensions with the evolving technology of photography and the digital darkroom.

My images are frequently altered as digital art. In one photograph from 1985, I removed a view of the Kidron valley below on the ascent to the Temple Mount. There was a row of rabbis gazing over a low wall. I perceived the valley as a distraction. I integrated clouds from my residence in Poway. I now discovered a sense of awe within the image.

I cannot ascertain whether the rabbis experienced what I envisioned. However, my image depicted it in that manner. Years later, I was astonished to see my creation resonating with Exodus 24:10 — and they saw the God of Israel — under whose feet was the likeness of a pavement of sapphire. Perhaps I was now perceiving what others had envisioned in biblical eras. In one aspect, it became my own just-so narrative.

Locations of Importance

When I returned to Israel in 2007, I grew fascinated with digital infrared photography. Although the composition of the photographic image remains unchanged, the color and illumination perception varies. Israel transformed into infrared.

This involved utilizing photography, and manipulating it, to foster attentiveness — a form of mindfulness. Henry Miller articulates what I discovered in Israel through blades of grass, reflecting this notion of attentiveness:

“The moment one gives close attention to any thing, even a blade of grass it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself.”

Thus, I, too, was uncovering the locations and cultures within Israel. During the act of photographing and examining them through image editing.

Israel via a Smartphone

I was among those exchanging their cameras for smartphones. The possible loss in high resolution may not have been a detriment at all. The images could maintain their structure while sacrificing some clarity, texture, and color.

For the majority of photos, the loss was scarcely detectable, and anything that was diminished could largely be restored through digital editing. Perfection continued to yield to adequacy. Yet the technology was not inert; it advanced.

It was now 2023, and I resolved to depend on my smartphone camera. The significant question for me leaned more towards the artistic perspective rather than the standards of technical precision.

Is It Possible for AI to Emulate What My Camera Captured?

Once again, I ventured to Israel. COVID had postponed my travels. Now, it was 2023. I began to experiment with generative AI to create visuals. The most accessible platform was DALLE2 (an OpenAI innovation). My strategy involved capturing images with my smartphone; subsequently, I would input descriptions of what I observed into the generative AI platform. My goal was to determine whether my descriptions could encapsulate what I witnessed. These two visuals — the real photo and the AI interpretation — would set the stage for a dialogue for me.

How do these two realities correspond with one another? One perceived and the other invigorated by my descriptions and filtered through the layers, loops, and algorithms that had a database of millions of images on which it had been trained. This was an exploration in “seeing” or comprehending what it is we communicate to ourselves regarding what we are viewing.

Frequently, I had to modify my phrasing to achieve a more precise representation of what I was observing. I acknowledge this was an unusual undertaking. Yet it served as an intellectual challenge that examined how my language mirrored my perceptions. What I gained was not simply a reflection of what my photograph displayed but rather an unexpected revelation.

Even when I discovered that the generative AI imagery was misguided, it prompted me to ask, What is Israel? The manner in which these generative AI systems interpreted my text cues was skewed and perplexing, both then and now.

I found myself one afternoon enjoying coffee and pastries at a nearby café. While my wife and friends engaged in conversation, a woman rose from her seat. She was balancing her coffee, phone, and cigarette. I attempted to encapsulate that scene with this text prompt: photorealistic image, middle-aged woman, just finished her coffee outside an outdoor café, cigarette in one hand, mobile phone and coffee in the other hand.

The photo on the left exemplifies street photography. The woman, outside a café in Tel Aviv, is struggling to juggle her coffee and phone (and possibly her handbag) while smoking a cigarette. The images on the right illustrate the results of using a description of the woman as prompts in two distinct generative AI models. The DALLE2 representation lacks the nearly flawless depiction produced by Epic Realism. Nevertheless, neither entirely captures the full detail provided in the text prompt.

As I refined the test, the generative AI models continued to progress. However, a crucial question lingered. When utilizing AI, there is no authentic human authorship unless one deems the text prompt adequate to represent the human aspect.

Nonetheless, there is potential for advantage. If one could not access a developing immediate reality, perhaps the AI platform could aid in envisioning it. Picasso envisioned the horror of Guernica. Could AI achieve a similar feat regarding the unfolding horrors of October 7?

This was what I contemplated as we waited in our apartment in Tel Aviv. Our thoughts struggled to keep pace with the developing dread.

Envisioning October 7

I attempted to picture the events occurring in our building. We were shown the stairs outside our apartment. Other residents were already seated there. My text prompt to DALLE2 depicted an unusual staircase with individuals oddly holding onto each other. 

The generative AI images frequently struggle to represent the reality we observe; they might disregard our wording due to algorithmic biases, company regulations, and guidelines; they may be unable to convert our phrases into what we envision. Thus, in this respect, AI images do not replace our creativity. 

I was resolute in capturing what I experienced on October 7. Since returning from Israel, I began experimenting with other generative AI platforms, including Stable Diffusion. This enabled me to maintain the same structure of the image while incorporating a variety of novel and surprising elements.

I revisited one of the photographs I took on October 7. We were shown our building’s bomb shelter by one of the other occupants. It was a basement space that seemed never to have been utilized. The image revealed a dreary stairwell leading down to the building’s secure room. I aimed to infuse that stairwell with the aesthetic that drove Picasso’s Guernica, Dali’s Premonition of Civil War, and Goya’s The Third of May 1808. This stairwell did not embody the horror of the southern region of Israel; it represented a different anxiety — that of a tourist in Tel Aviv.

It would be naïve to believe that portraying reality would be enhanced with a camera, AI, or digital image manipulation. Or with a paintbrush. Or with any instruments an artist may opt for. Our eyes focus on reality, yet even then we can be misled. Nevertheless, we strive to comprehend the reality in which we dwell.

Joe Nalven is a digital artist based in San Diego. He is the author of Going Digital: The Practice and Vision of Digital Artists (Thompson, 2005). He is scheduled to give a public lecture at the Coronado Public Library on January 15 at 10 a.m. The lecture is free and sponsored by the Center for Jewish Culture. For more details: Tel. 858-362-1150 or www.lfjcc.org.