One way that we might think people develop good or better taste is through exposure. The more art you see, the better your taste should become. After all, it would indeed be strange to think someone has good taste in paintings, for instance, if they have only seen one painting. But is the amount of exposure enough to develop better taste? What if you are only exposed to one specific genre of art? Someone who only listens to classical music is less likely to appreciate rap; in other words, narrow exposure limits their taste. AI and algorithms are able to give us greater quantities of things to perceive, but the question is whether that hones our capacity for taste.
Exposure to a wide array of things is necessary, but it is not sufficient to develop taste. Or, at least, it is not inevitable or automatic that good taste will develop from exposure alone. The quantity will not make a significant difference, if the things which you are acquainted with are too similar or not the right things for your goal. Suppose you wanted to become a better chess player. And you reasoned that by playing more people you would become better. What if, by chance, you only played people significantly worse than you? That would be less likely to develop your skill as a chess player. For taste to develop, someone needs to be exposed to a wide variety of objects, some of which may challenge their ideas of the beautiful and ugly.
Think about a song that you initially disliked. Suppose that you kept hearing it in random situations or friends played it regularly. You may eventually find yourself liking it or at least finding it less intolerable. The song did not change, but your repeated exposure caused a change in your perception of it. This illustrates the “mere exposure effect”: repeated exposure can increase our liking of something simply because it becomes more familiar.
This effect is a psychological explanation about how our brains understand things that we become familiar with. If you are repeatedly exposed to certain objects, people, or ideologies, the more you see them as safe and comfortable. However, this is not a guarantee; it is a tendency, though a strong one. While exposure helps to explain our personal preferences, it is not enough to develop better taste, even if it is necessary.
David Hume believed being exposed to different objects was an important part of developing taste. But it is not a passive familiarity, the kind that can arise from repetition caused by an algorithm. I’ve written more about Hume and taste here and here. For present purposes, I’ll focus on a few key ideas relating to intentional exposure.
Hume posited the ideal of a “true judge,” someone who we imagine does not have the limitations or hang-ups that we naturally have. For Hume, developing taste does indeed require wide experience (or exposure). You cannot claim to have good taste in music, for instance, if you only listen to one album on repeat, even if that album is arguably excellent. While there isn’t a precise way to quantify experience, there’s an intuitive sense that length of time and number of experiences play some role. By itself, this aspect only hits on mere exposure, which I’ve mentioned is not enough.
So, Hume also adds comparison. Not only do you need to experience a number of things, you need to be able to compare why some are better, which means you get into the details of what makes them good in the first place. This also doesn’t lend itself to an exact quantity of comparisons necessary to have better taste. However, it’s clear that effort is required to go through a process of experiencing different things and comparing them.
Hume also claims we need to be relieved from all prejudice. This is where the algorithm tends to create echo chambers of our likes. Have you ever bought something online, say a pair of sneakers, and then you get ads for sneakers? While I realize it’s a bit more complicated than this, the algorithm gives you more of the same, which inadvertently reinforces our prejudices that something we like is good or better. When we step back, we are also captivated by things that surprise us or take us outside of our normal, at least on occasion. Removing prejudice completely is unlikely, but we should want to be open to new art and ideas. One main reason is that there might be something out there that we simply enjoy more. But also, even if we experience something that we don’t like, it continues to hone our taste through comparison.
Hume’s notion is much more robust and different from mere repetition and exposure.
Algorithms latch onto familiarity and will keep putting things in front of you, based on your previous habits and likes. Someone once described their experience of starting a TikTok account as follows: The first day, it kept showing videos that I had no interest in watching. By the end of a week of looking up and liking content, it showed me videos that made me watch to keep watching for hours. That was one person’s experience, but the concept remains. Algorithms are indifferent to what you like or whether you develop. They optimize primarily for continued engagement. In that sense they resemble an addictive substance more than a curator. They don’t care what you consume, only that you keep consuming.
If you spend more time with some content, or click the like button, then it will prioritize that content over other things that you spend less time engaging with. In other words, you continue to confirm the algorithm’s choices when you keep engaging with that type of content or those particular accounts.
The key is that the algorithm continues to expose you to things, but too often they are variations of the same things.
Because so many things are imposed on us just by opening an app on our phones, we need to become more deliberate about overcoming the algorithms. We need to assert our agency. As the existentialists have argued, people are in a state of becoming, which means that we transcend through our choices and projects. Sartre asserts that choice is the most fundamental way that people define themselves. When choices are constantly made for us—what to listen to, what to watch, what to read—it not only diminishes our agency, but it often surrounds us with more of the same.
We like what we like, and there’s nothing wrong with that. However, we need new things on occasion to challenge us in fresh ways and to expand our view of the world. New experiences do not just give us something new as individuals, they help us cultivate a broader understanding of others, even if we don’t like some of these experiences. We gain a fuller picture of history, traditions, and cultures. It helps us to become more perceptive.
Someone might respond by saying that the algorithms do give them something new. Algorithmic suggestions do occasionally bring something meaningful to the surface.
In general, the internet has enabled us to discover things that were previously more difficult to find. As a personal example, I got into the blues before the internet was a household necessity. I learned about different artists, like Blind Willie Johnson, through talking to others and reading books (and cd liner notes). But the internet opened up new ways to easily find other blues musicians. Technology can help us discover new things or expand our knowledge of things we already like.
But actively participating in that discovery is how we can retrain ourselves to see in new ways. This requires wrestling with different forms of art, music, and literature.
AI and algorithms can give us endless amounts of new things to watch, hear, or read. But developing taste demands genuine breadth.
AI can solve the problem of production with its ability to make things quickly. Write an email. Create an image. Compose a song. Repeat.
We can produce a lot, thereby being exposed to a lot. But being exposed is not sufficient to develop and sharpen our taste. It might merely reinforce familiarity that began with the “mere exposure effect.” We have to choose intentionally, as Sartre says, to leap out of our pool of familiarity, where it might feel safe, and venture out into the sea of possibilities. Of course there is nothing wrong with returning to the things you like. But we need to examine ourselves and see if they have created mere echo chambers or hinder our development. Taste is not a passive reception, but an active engagement with culture and the world. It is how we learn to see differently.
I work with organizations and individuals who want to think more carefully about judgment, meaning, and the conditions that shape everyday decisions.
If that sounds like your situation, you can reach me at michaelrspicher@gmail.com or learn more at michaelrspicher.com.
Reorienting through Aesthetics
Seeking the Familiar with a Twist
My recent article for BeautyMatter: Does Beauty Diminish or Expand?
My latest for Fast Company: Are You Part of the ‘Distraction Economy’?
“The Aesthetic Edge” is a free ebook, co-written by myself and Hannah Spicher. Download your copy today!
Michael’s interview with NeuroArts Resource Center.
Digital Fashion: Theory, Practice, Implications, edited by Michael R. Spicher, Sara Emilia Bernat, and Doris Domoszlai-Lantner, is available for purchase! (Our book was featured in a BeautyMatter article.)
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