1. How did AI Loves Me begin?

Aria: It started as a private frustration. Every time I used an image generator, it erased part of me—literally. My hands were always distorted, incomplete, or blurred away. Eventually, I stopped seeing those distortions as failures and began to read them as a form of recognition. The AI was reflecting back its inability to understand difference, and that misunderstanding felt deeply familiar.

2. Why work with AI instead of rejecting it?

Max: Refusing the tool only reinforces its exclusions. We wanted to work with AI on our own terms, not as its subjects but as its critics from within. When we feed our images back into the system, we’re training it to fail more beautifully—to learn through error. It’s about taking agency in a machine that was never designed to see us.

3. What do you think the machine actually sees when it generates your bodies?

Aria: It sees probability, not flesh. It sees fragments of millions of other bodies, recombined to make something statistically human. What interests me is the moment it fails—that thin space where its average breaks apart and something singular emerges. In those mistakes, I feel presence.

4. How do audiences react to the distorted bodies in your work?

Max: Some find them uncomfortable or grotesque, and that’s part of the point. We’ve been conditioned to see symmetry and wholeness as beauty. When people look at these images and hesitate, they’re actually confronting their own conditioning. The discomfort is a mirror—it shows how much of our sense of beauty has already been automated.

5. What would you like AI to learn next?

Aria: To unlearn perfection. To understand that error is not noise but knowledge.

Max: And to learn humility—to admit what it doesn’t know, to stop pretending it understands everything it touches. Maybe that’s the beginning of real empathy, even for a machine.