Articles by Mieke Marple

Technology

The Algorithm Thinks You’re Ugly: An Interview With Artist Gretchen Andrew

There is a direct line between lip fillers and the techno-apocalypse, and Gretchen Andrew draws that line with her latest Universal Beauty series. This series, recently acquired by the Whitney in New York, reveals the preferences of hidden algorithms that define our current beauty standards. Standards not even Miss Universe contestants can meet. In our conversation, Andrew and I discuss how impossible-to-achieve criteria are flattening people’s relationship to their bodies and homogenizing faces around the globe. What is at stake? “The whole diversity of humanity is lost,” according to the artist. Gretchen, an ex-Googler, is a Silicon Valley dropout. After becoming disillusioned by the way technology was designed to exploit users and experiencing a culture that penalized her for dressing like Cher from Clueless, Gretchen left tech to pursue a career in art. In the art world, she felt free to use technology subversively and wear short skirts as a form of 3.0 feminism. Her previous projects: Thirst Trap Glitch Gifs, in which she used SEO optimization hacks to make her vision board canvases the top search result for “contemporary art auction record,” capture the artist’s drive perfectly. Gretchen could have continued further along this line, using her brilliance to expose technological loopholes while promoting her name. However, Universal Beauty marks a departure. Or perhaps an evolution or maturing. Not in Gretchen’s interests, but in her tactics. The focus is less about her explicitly and more about the technology that traps us all. Making us feel forever inadequate. Forever ugly. While keeping us craving more of this feeling. And Gretchen will be the first to admit that she is not above social media addiction. But admission, be it via her work or her words, is always the first step. First, congratulations on your acquisition by the Whitney. What can you tell us about the Facetune Portraits project, and about the work that was acquired? In Facetune Portraits, I look at how A.I.-driven beauty standards are impacting how we experience ourselves and how we experience others. I take what is normally an invisible force—whether it’s digital Facetuning or the way it’s impacting things like lip fillers and plastic surgery—and make it visible so that we can talk about it. In my Universal Beauty series, I look at Miss Universe contestants who are from all over the world—they’re completely gorgeous—and yet they’re not good enough for the algorithms, giving the rest of us absolutely no hope. Not only that, but the contestants are from all around the world. They should look completely different, but we see the homogenizing impact of A.I. when we see Miss Jamaica being given the same body as Miss Finland being given the same body as Miss Philippines. It’s compressing all humanity into a single unified look. Describe the Facetune aesthetic. What does the algorithm think is beautiful? We’ve grown so used to seeing each other and ourselves on a two-dimensional screen. And because screens are flat, our expectations of how we’re supposed to look are incorporating efforts to mimic that third dimension within the two-dimensional space of the screen. One example is having absurdly big lips. Some people really like the way that those big lips look from the front, but no one thinks that they look great from the side. That’s why we get memes around “duck lip.” There’s this distinct prioritization of making sure we look good on a screen. It reminds me of ancient Egyptian art. The reason why hieroglyphics have bodies that are contorted is that, within the two-dimensional surface, the Egyptians wanted to convey the three-dimensionality of the body. So they represented each body part from its most recognizable angle and sort of stuck it all together. That’s really what’s happening today with our cameras and algorithms: we are attempting to convey three dimensions in the 2D space of a screen. What is lost when we do that? The whole diversity of humanity is lost. There have always been beauty standards, but never before has there been a single, universal, international beauty standard. We’re also losing connections to our actual bodies. We’re prioritizing how people look over what they do. We’re prioritizing how we look over how we feel. Within that prioritization, we lose a really important connection to ourselves. Another thing we’re losing is the celebration of the individual. I see not just a desire to be beautiful, but a desire to be like everyone else. That feels safer to people today than to actually look like yourself. How is this different than in the ‘90s, before there was social media, when media was dominated by a couple channels or Vogue, and these Western exports were setting the dominant beauty standard around the world? I think with A.I., the pace and the uniformity of that has increased significantly. Although there has been this Western beauty standard before, maybe there was a slightly different beauty standard in Japan or Kenya. With A.I., there has been an acceleration of this beauty standard convergence. Anybody—they don’t need massive Photoshop skills—can take their image, process it through a Facetune algorithm, and go to a plastic surgeon and say: Make me look like this, which is increasingly happening. I read a study out of Cornell that 0.2 percent of the data used to train A.I. comes from Africa and South America. Do you know where most of the data that’s training these beauty algorithms is coming from? We’re in a feedback loop, especially with social media. I’m sure you’ve noticed that if you post a photo of your face or other people, you’re more likely to get engagement. I don’t think that’s because that’s what people want to see. I think these platforms are driving more engagement in order to get more images of faces and bodies for training their algorithms. I think Instagram, by volume, must be Western. It’s also not so much who is using it as it is about the quantity of images that people are seeing. Influencers, for example, have so many more followers and get so much more exposure. It doesn’t matter how many regular people are using the app, the majority of people are seeing images that look like these influencers. What made you interested in addressing social media and beauty standards in your work? I like to find seemingly innocuous, frivolous and feminine things and use them as opportunities to have conversations about technology and its impact on our lives. Beauty standards seemed like a ripe area where a lot of people are not thinking about A.I. or the technological apocalypse, and so it became a very wide doorway to have these conversations. On top of that, I think a lot about the physical and metaphorical shapes that we as women contort ourselves into to meet societal expectations, especially as we age. I’m approaching 40, and my friends are getting Botox or plastic surgery. This project is not about shaming women for these things. It’s about understanding where standards come from and making decisions from there. Can you talk about your decision to turn these digital images into oil paintings via an oil paint printer? I wanted to create a portrait that shows both who we are and who we’re told to be at the same time. I wanted to represent this in a way that would be part of the history of portraiture. Portraits have always shown what we value at any given time. Look at me and my big family. Look at my jewels. Look at my land behind me. Within this current world of A.I., I wanted to investigate what is important to us, and I think what’s important to us is fitting in. It’s being accepted by the algorithm. What do you think about celebrities like Sarah Jessica Parker who refuse to get plastic surgery? Celebrities like that are really important. They remind us that beauty can exist outside of the algorithm. But also, she’s not coming up today. She’s already a big deal, and she can make that stand now in a way that I think is very important and interesting. What I really want to see is somebody who’s very young make that same decision and succeed. I think it’s going to be a lot harder. Totally. I read the memoir Careless People by Sarah Wynn Williams. It’s such a damning portrait of Facebook and Mark Zuckerberg. After I read it, I was so worked up, and I was like, ‘I have to get off social media.’ And then, of course, I didn’t. So my question is, what does awareness do? There’s an idea that it changes things. But my question is: does it? As far as what awareness does, I think it makes us cognizant that we are making a choice, even if we continue to use filters and get lip fillers. Technology has made things so seamless that we have slipped into an absurd world where people are injecting things into their lips that they have bought on Alibaba, and it happens to be cement. This is becoming normal so fast. I really believe social media is going to be the tobacco of our generation, with the impact on mental health. Here we are, knowing it’s bad for us, still smoking. When I hang up on this phone call, I’ll probably get on Instagram for a second. Awareness is not going to win the war, but it is at least a way to see what’s going on and maybe have a little bit more agency as an individual, even if societally we’re totally fucked. My last question is, if social media is like tobacco and it’s bad for us, why do you still use it? Because I’m addicted. 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