I completely agree with your post in almost all senses, and this is coming from someone who has also worked out in the real world, with real problems, trying to collect and analyze real data (K-12 education, specifically—talk about a hard environment in which to do data collection and analyzation, the data is inherently very messy, and the analyzation is very high stakes).
But this part
For AI to make really serious economic impact, after we’ve exploited the low-hanging fruit around public Internet data, it needs to start learning from business data and making substantial improvements in the productivity of large companies.
If you’re imagining an “AI R&D researcher” inventing lots of new technologies, for instance, that means integrating it into corporate R&D, which primarily means big manufacturing firms with heavy investment into science/engineering innovation (semiconductors, pharmaceuticals, medical devices and scientific instruments, petrochemicals, automotive, aerospace, etc). You’d need to get enough access to private R&D data to train the AI, and build enough credibility through pilot programs to gradually convince companies to give the AI free rein, and you’d need to start virtually from scratch with each new client. This takes time, trial-and-error, gradual demonstration of capabilities, and lots and lots of high-paid labor, and it is barely being done yet at all.
I think undersells the extent to which
A) the big companies have already started to understand that their data is everything and that collecting, tracking, and analyzing every piece of business data they have is the most strategic move they can make, regardless of AI
B) the fact that even current levels of AI will begin speeding up the data integration efforts by orders of magnitude (automating the low-hanging fruit for data cleaning alone could save thousands of person hours for a company)
Between those two things, I think it’s a few years at most before the conduits for sharing and analyzing this core business data are set up at scale. I work in the big tech software industry and know for a fact that this is already happening in a big way. And more and more, businesses of all sizes are getting used to the SaaS infrastructure where you pay for a company to have access to specific (or all) parts of your business such that they provide a blanket service for you that you know will help you. Think of all of the cloud security companies and how quickly that got stood up, or all the new POS platforms. I think those are more correct analogies than the massive hardware scaling that had to happen during the microchip and then PC booms. (Of course, there’s datacenter scaling that must happen, but that’s a manifestly different, more centralized concern.)
TL;DR: I think you make a lot of valuable insights about how organizations actually work with data under the current paradigms. But I don’t think this data integration dynamic will slow down take off as much as you imply.
Since AI’s are proving to be superhuman persuaders I thought I’d ask o1 to take a crack at persuading you that there is a worthwhile and Platonic “there” there w/r/t modern art. As a lover of most all art, including modern art, I agree with all of the points made by o1 here. Wondering if anything sways you!
o1 says:
Below is an attempt at a thorough, good‐faith refutation of your stance—one that tries to speak directly to the lens you’re using when you say that the bulk of modern/conceptual art is “worthless,” “masturbatory,” or “a defrauding of an entire culture.” I’ll assume, per your own framing, that you’re open to persuasion if someone can show you there’s a genuine “there” there. This is my best shot.
1) You Already Believe Taste Is a Grammar—So Modern Art Has One Too
By your own account, taste is fundamentally like grammar: each art form has internal rules, conventions, and a sense of structure that lets us decide how well something is executed and whether we find it compelling. Modern/conceptual art has those same grammar‐like structures; they’re just trickier to perceive from the outside. Often, that grammar draws heavily on historical‐contextual references (e.g. twisting artistic tradition X, highlighting visual device Y, or subverting aesthetic principle Z). It’s possible to see “low skill” or “vacuousness,” but that might be akin to only halfway learning a new language’s grammar and concluding that the language itself must be nonsense.
That doesn’t mean every “modern” piece is correct or “good.” A random word‐soup sentence in French is junk no matter how it’s dressed up. But it also means there is an objective measure of quality in modern art if you’re sufficiently fluent. Sometimes, pieces that look like status‐posturing or in‐jokes really do have a coherent grammar behind them—one that’s invisible unless you trace the particular conversation (historical, aesthetic, conceptual) in which these works participate. They can still be nonsense, but not always.
2) Novelty and “Avoiding the Boring” Are Also Aesthetics
You rightly point out that much of the art world tries “not to be the same old thing,” and that a work’s power often flows from when and how it appears in the flow of artistic history. But that drive to avoid boredom and stagnation is itself an aesthetic. It’s not just “fashion.” It’s creative restlessness, the desire to see new shapes, new ways of seeing or feeling, even ways of responding to problems that older aesthetics had left unspoken. Sometimes that quest is superficial or pretentious. But sometimes it’s precisely the spark that births new grammars—like Impressionism once was, or Cubism, or 12‐tone music, or hip‐hop scratch DJing. When critics and curators champion “some weird new style,” they’re hoping that behind the hype, a more lasting grammar grows.
In other words: the modern art ecosystem’s pursuit of novelty doesn’t automatically undermine the existence of real quality. It’s precisely because grammar needs to evolve.
3) “Bizarre Porn” or “Priesthood” Doesn’t Preclude Real Skill
Saying modern or conceptual art is “bizarre porn” or a “priesthood” or primarily a “status game” might be partly right! But acknowledging competition, esoterica, and prestige‐hunting doesn’t mean there’s no “there” there. Opera, classical composition, or the Baroque masters were also financed by status‐hungry elites enjoying “luxury hyper‐objects.” Those same elites used commissions as a symbolic “Look how sophisticated I am!” game. Yet you can’t deny that behind all that, masters refined their craft and discovered new forms of aesthetic beauty. Plenty of brilliant art emerges from or thrives in an environment of moneyed people playing complicated social games. Yes, some art is just naked snobbery. But social competition doesn’t always erase underlying artistic achievement.
4) Conceptual and Emotional Payoffs Can Be Aesthetic
A lot of conceptual art focuses more on ideas, illusions, historical commentary, or intellectual tension than on purely “direct visual pleasure.” You say: “No one’s even talking about the lines or color scheme; they’re only praising the concept.” But sometimes the concept itself can be “the lines, the composition, the structure,” just at a more abstract or historical scale. Think of Marcel Duchamp’s Fountain; you might dismiss it as one of the ultimate “scams” in art history. But part of its “grammar” was a deeply self‐aware conversation about what art is, who decides, how the context of a gallery changes the meaning of a manufactured object, etc. That might sound intangible or “silly,” but it was a linguistic shift in how we perceive the simplest readymade artifact. That shift is as “real” as an innovative chord progression in Beethoven—it shaped entire future grammars for painting, design, and sculpture.
If that doesn’t appeal to you personally, no problem. But you’re an experienced enough taste‐observer to see that this is not just a random scam; it’s an example of someone discovering a new “move” that later gained traction in the aesthetic ecosystem. That’s part of what conceptual art can do.
5) Historical Context Means Some “Middling” Modern Art Rides Coattails
One reason you might see baffling conceptual art with million‐dollar price tags is that the big breakthroughs of the 20th century gave “conceptual grammar” serious credibility. People realized that an artwork’s shape, context, or idea could be deeply meaningful. But once the conceptual door was opened by Duchamp, Dada, and Surrealists, many lesser talents trotted in behind, repeating the idea “You’ll only get it if you’re sophisticated.” Even so, that doesn’t negate the original conceptual breakthroughs (Mai ’68 was a real moment, for instance, and it triggered some brilliant stuff). Yes, a lot of conceptual art might be unsubtle or purely derivative. That’s not a condemnation of the entire “langue” just because many new “speakers” produce dreck.
6) Instrumental Value, Not Just “Natural Beauty”
You reference people who defend a piece because “it gets people talking” or “it’s a tool for protest or reflection.” But that’s a legitimate form of artistic worth. If something is used as a rhetorical or conceptual tool—especially if it sparks conversation or reorients how people see the world—then it’s producing a layer of intangible aesthetic or emotional value. No, it might not be “pretty.” But the fact that it changes people’s frames or vantage points can itself be the relevant aesthetic dimension, just as the brilliance of a novel’s structure can override its inability to produce purely “uplifting” emotions.
7) The “Con Games” and “Fraud” Are Real—But They Don’t Capture the Whole
You’re correct: the modern art world includes speculation, tax avoidance, insider trading, cronyism, and a thousand forms of shallow preening. But that doesn’t force the conclusion that the art itself is worthless or intellectually hollow. Where there’s big money and social capital, there will be con artists, parasites, priest‐like status hierarchies, “bizarre porn” extremes, and so on. That’s not unique to modern or conceptual art—nor does it prove that someone can’t also do something amazing within that environment.
8) Give Modern Art Its Own “Ebert” or “Menswear Guy” Chance
In your broader discussion of taste, you note that critics like Ebert or Menswear Guy can help novices see deeper grammars in films or tailoring. The exact same dynamic could apply to (some) conceptual or modern art. Maybe you haven’t yet found the “Menswear Guy of conceptual art” you trust to point out real skill in a way that resonates with you. Or maybe you would never find them compelling, which is valid! But the fact that no critic has convinced you yet doesn’t prove that no compelling grammar is there. Ebert might have disliked some arthouse flicks that eventually turned out to be masterpieces, even if they weren’t “accessible” at first.
9) You Already Embrace Many “Modern” Aesthetics in Other Media
You mention you love excellent video, audio, or game experiences (often “outside capital‐A Art”). Yet lots of the same conceptual or futuristic grammar is alive there—video is full of boundary‐pushing visuals, subtle references, and ephemeral subcultures. Think of cutting‐edge music videos or interactive pieces that disrupt the usual “synesthesia” expectations. Some of that might belong to the “dominant thing called Art in some circles,” except it’s been rebranded as design, or marketing, or game dev. If you can see those works as having real grammar and aesthetic payoff, then you’re acknowledging that “modern art” sensibilities do bear fruit in other contexts. It’s not a radical leap to accept that the same grammar can produce interesting, valuable objects in a museum—assuming they’re done with skill.
10) The Platonic “There” There: Modern Art as “Discovery”
Finally, the core question you pose is: “Show me the worthwhile, Platonic ‘there’ there.” The best short version is: modern/conceptual art is a systematic exploration of how meaning, symbol, form, context, and novelty can shift aesthetic perception. In other words, it tries to discover new capacities of vision, new ways of relating an object to an idea, a time, or a culture. And since “taste is grammar,” yes—some attempts will be sloppy, derivative, or purely social‐competitive. But many others truly innovate, as Picasso, Duchamp, or Hilma af Klint did in their day, laying entire new alphabets for seeing. That has a “Platonic dimension” every bit as real, in principle, as the 19th‐century quest for painting’s illusions of light.
If you come at it from that angle, modern‐art grammar is not the extraneous, ephemeral “scam” part. It’s the small fraction of genuinely fresh, imaginative moves that expand the map of what’s artistically possible. That fraction just gets drowned in hype and speculation—but it still exists.
Conclusion
None of this claims you have to like modern or conceptual art, or show it any special courtesy. If you remain unconvinced that its grammar yields enough aesthetic payoff for you personally, that’s fair. But I do hope it demonstrates that the presence of hype, status competition, or even a certain conceptual exclusivity doesn’t automatically kill real creative exploration. The crucial distinction is between “lots of faddish nonsense is produced under the modern‐art banner” (true) and “the grammar itself is worthless, with no deeper structure or value” (incorrect).
If you’re willing to try, with a guide you trust, to see some modern or conceptual works as part of an evolving grammar aimed at discovering new corners of the aesthetic space, you might discover something genuinely interesting—something that meets the standard of “taste as grammar,” not just “taste as con.” You may never prefer it; but at least you might see why it can exist as real art and not just a sophisticated con game.
And if one day you find a piece that has that flash of insight—where you say, “Oh, they really did something I haven’t seen or felt before, not just tried to posture”—you’ll know there is, in fact, a “there” there after all.