K Allado-McDowell on Neural Media: How AI Locates Us, and Where It Could Look Instead

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Overview

At a Long Now Talk at San Francisco's Cowell Theatre in February 2025, artist and technologist K Allado-McDowell set out a framework for understanding the moment we are in with AI. They call it "neural media." Their question is partly historical: what kind of medium is emerging now, and how does it relate to broadcast television, immersive environments, and the internet? It is also practical: given where we are in that emergence, what could we do to steer it? Allado-McDowell's position is that each medium produces a particular kind of identity in the people who live inside it. Neural media produces identities "embedded" in statistical models. The most hopeful possibility they see is to point these systems at the nonhuman world rather than only at ourselves.

31 min read

Where the Term "Neural Media" Came From

Allado-McDowell introduced themself through two projects. The first was Pharmako-AI, a book they wrote in 2020 with an early version of the GPT-3 playground, when it was still possible to construct sentences together with the model. The second was an opera, also from 2020. What mattered about the opera for this talk was that it ran alongside a neuroscience study: performers' brain waves controlled AI-generated visuals that were part of the production.

That project added a brain-computer interface (BCI) to AI, and it prompted the question behind the talk. What would you call a medium that includes not just AI but the sensing of human brains and other neural structures? Their answer was "neural media." They described what followed as an "artificial framework," a way of interpreting media history that clarifies the present and helps us think about how to shape what comes next toward what we want.

Trippy Squirrel and the Start of AI Art

Allado-McDowell dates their own journey with generative AI and creativity to 2015 and a single image: "trippy squirrel.jpg." It leaked from an internal Google social network onto a Reddit board and went viral, because, as they put it, no one had seen anything like it. The image was made by Alexander Mordvintsev, a researcher in Switzerland. Allado-McDowell calls it more or less the first AI-generated image, or at least the first to be widely seen and to go viral.

That image led to a program they led and co-led for eight years and which is still running: Artists + Machine Intelligence, based in Google Research. Its mission was to bring artists and philosophers in to work with researchers, to widen the conversation about what researchers were doing and could be doing, to fund art, and to encourage a new field. They stressed that all of this came before DALL·E, Midjourney, and similar generative systems. Later in the talk they returned to the same lineage. The squirrel was produced by running an image-recognition network backwards. The program it inspired led to the first neural-net art show, "DeepDream: The Art of Neural Networks" at Gray Area in San Francisco, which included work by their colleague Mike Tyka, one of the people behind the DeepDream paper.

Fred Turner's "Surround" and a Thirty-Year Media Cycle

The historical backbone of the talk comes from Fred Turner's book The Democratic Surround, which Allado-McDowell said "really blew my mind" as a way of reading art history through a political and subjective lens. Turner traces a "surround" media environment to the Committee for National Morale, which formed during World War II to counter German propaganda. The committee's reasoning, as Allado-McDowell summarized it, was that each nation had its own character. German propaganda worked in a particular way, and American morale would need propaganda that functioned differently because of Americans' anti-authoritarian character. Broadcast media, which entrained a mass of people to a single signal and message, was seen as correlated with fascism. The surround was theorized as its democratic counterpart, encouraging individuation and free choice within a media environment.

Building on Turner, Allado-McDowell proposes that each media type goes through a thirty-year process from birth to maturity, when it becomes dominant. Broadcast media runs from about 1920 (they place the first radio broadcast around 1919) to 1950, when television becomes dominant. Immersive media, which the committee's work ultimately produced, begins in the 1950s and reaches a kind of dominance in the 1980s. Network media begins in earnest in the 1980s with the early internet and matures around 2010. For the last fifteen years, they said, we have seen the growth of AI through deep learning and the algorithms built into online platforms. By this chronology we are about halfway through that cycle. The premise is that understanding the process, and the historical effects of earlier media, can show us what we might do with the medium we are now dealing with. Many people in the room, they noted, have influence over it or at least participate heavily in it.

To compare media types, Allado-McDowell looks for three properties in each: a kind of space, a kind of content, and a kind of identity.

Broadcast Media: Centralized Space, Programmatic Content, Demographic Identity

Broadcast space is centralized in a literal, physical sense. To watch television you gather around it. They cited studies showing that televisions brought people together in homes and drew them out of public spaces, though some public spaces had televisions too. Broadcast centralized attention and also organizational power, in the form of the big three US networks. The structure is one-to-many.

The content was "programmatic" in the literal sense: you watched programs within time blocks. Those programs had personas: the wisecracking late-night host, the authoritative news anchor, and the ways women and people of color were portrayed. Allado-McDowell argues that these personas distributed identities en masse, producing norms and relations. They linked the dominance of the nuclear-family image in that era to the programs being broadcast.

This did not happen in a vacuum, they emphasized. Beginning in 1923, Nielsen developed ways of sensing the audience, including the Audimeter, a device inside a radio or television that recorded when the set was in use and what it was tuned to. Allado-McDowell calls this "really the very beginning of adtech." There were also viewing diaries that people filled out by hand; they remember their parents doing it. What came out was demographics, which they described as crude: men, women, children, basic age bands, and the knowledge that 18-to-49-year-olds had more money and were therefore wanted. These identities were fed back to broadcasters in a loop. Their summary: a centralized space, programmatic content, and demographic identity.

Immersive Media: The Surround and the Dome

Allado-McDowell renamed Turner's "surround" as "immersive media" on purpose. Immersive experiences are generating a lot of buzz in museums and entertainment and feel new, but in their account the idea was conceived during World War II and rose to dominance between 1950 and 1980. Immersive media, in their scheme, is a distributed space that offers an experience for constructing identity. The content is an experience, and the identity it produces is constructed.

They traced its roots through the committee's circle. In 1935 the graphic and exhibition designer Herbert Bayer formulated a "dynamic perspective." Looking at the fixed perspective of Renaissance art, he wanted to design experiences where viewers could move through a space and assemble the experience as they went. His experiments in Paris five years earlier fed into this. In 1943 Bayer designed Airways to Peace at MoMA, built around a globe or dome structure. Allado-McDowell treats this as the first modern appearance of an image that recurs throughout the history, both in exhibition design and as an ideological structure.

They read the wall text aloud: peace "must be planned on a world basis," continents and oceans are "plainly only parts of a whole, seen from the air," and "our thinking in the future must be worldwide." They called this a tense convergence of ideas. Global peace is in some ways utopian, but here it is enforced from the air. Inside the globe was a map of the airways developed for military and industrial use, so visitors saw the world from a pilot's perspective, turned inside out. They described it as a "military-industrial global peace program" presented at MoMA, and they started a running "dome mood board" from this point.

Two more committee members, the anthropologists Gregory Bateson and Margaret Mead, were at the same time photographing in Bali and pursuing a worldwide anthropology of gesture, language, and social structure. They were looking for a perspective that could be presented to Americans to produce tolerance, individual choice, and self-actualization through an essentially anthropological global view. By 1955, Edward Steichen's The Family of Man at MoMA assembled photographers from around the world into what Steichen called a declaration of global solidarity, celebrating universal aspects of human experience. Allado-McDowell set this against today's arguments about unipolar and multipolar world orders. They called it a very clear example of a unipolar vision presented through media, framed in individualistic and evolutionary-psychological terms. Walking through the spaces was supposed to produce tolerance, curiosity about other ways of being, and global solidarity.

From Moscow to the Sphere: The Dome Spreads

In the late 1950s this surround paradigm was exported through American pavilions such as the American National Exhibition in Moscow, which featured Glimpses of the USA inside a dome. Allado-McDowell pointed out the dome again and a persistent emphasis on transportation, which they read as an American belief that transportation is a form of self-actualization. As someone living in Los Angeles County, they said, they know that well.

The same pattern appeared in the art world. Allan Kaprow's Yard, a happening filled with tires, belonged to the fluxus-adjacent, proto-conceptual movements in which "people would just kind of do weird stuff and make you figure it out." Things are happening and you must find your way through them, creating your own identity and role. They followed the thread through the Merry Pranksters' "revolutionary transportation art," the more technocratic work of Stan VanDerBeek at Bell Labs, and the grassroots Trips Festivals and light shows. In these surround environments images are everywhere, you move through them, and there is an ideology of self-actualization that intensifies, they noted, once LSD is added.

The dome returned as a utopian back-to-the-land symbol through Buckminster Fuller and communes like Drop City. Domes there were a self-reliant architecture that could be built fairly easily, and the community famously didn't exchange money. It was "quite utopian until it wasn't." Fuller domes and the "blue dot" image of Earth both appeared in the Whole Earth Catalog. Allado-McDowell connected the blue dot back to Airways to Peace: a view from above that tries to see past national borders and identities but may also impose a single hegemonic order, whether through military means or soft power like the Eames exhibitions. The catalog's focus on tools and self-reliance was, in their account, the seedbed for home computing, the Homebrew Computer Club, Apple, and Silicon Valley as we know it.

In the present, they see the surround at its fullest at Burning Man, where experiences are everywhere and you go to construct an identity, perhaps with a new name. It also lives indoors, in teamLab installations and the Van Gogh experiences. As someone working at the intersection of art and technology, they said they were "tickled" to learn that immersion had been around so long. The last dome on the board was the Sphere in Las Vegas, which they called the epitome of the dome as an immersive media environment. It is structured differently from Kaprow's wander-through tires but shares the ethos. With the Grateful Dead so central to its launch, they see the story created by the Committee for National Morale, adopted and made their own by counterculture, now playing out at very large scale. Follow the home-computing thread further and you get virtual reality, where "the dome is now on your face."

Network Media: Circulation, Memes, and Fractal Identity

Allado-McDowell defines network media as a circulatory space for "mimetic" content and "fractal" identities. The earliest example they cited is Doug Engelbart's "Mother of All Demos," which first showed networked computers. We have been living in its echo, they suggested. In this phase the dome becomes a hypersphere and "blows its spores all over everything." Your wrist talks to your hand, which talks to your face, to everyone else's devices, and to your TV. The immersive environment is now everywhere and networked.

They stressed that these thirty-year phases are not clean breaks. Media grow out of one another; quoting Marshall McLuhan, "the content of every medium is the previous medium." Broadcast and film images get projected onto the walls of the dome, and networking turns the dome into everything.

In a circulatory space, each person is one or several nodes who pass information forward and back and are responsible for circulating it. Where broadcast is one-to-many with a feedback loop, the network branches and flows in both directions. Viral, mimetic content thrives there by nature. They cited a paper comparing social network structures for viral potential: the most branched structure produced the most viral content, and the less branched ones, which look more like broadcast, were less viral.

To explain mimetic content, they turned to Richard Dawkins, "daddy of memes." Dawkins' original meme was anything that can be mimicked and reproduced, whether a gene, a behavior, or an idea, not just a joke shared with friends. In network media, memes combine images and text as earlier media did, but they evolve very quickly. Allado-McDowell illustrated fractal identity with a meme that combines the horseshoe theory of politics (the extremes converge) with the political compass, producing a kind of looping political torus. They see this as innate to identity online. As you circulate memes and perceive politics through them, you move around the board, find pockets and micro-worlds, pass through echo chambers and down rabbit holes, get radicalized, and switch sides. They called these normal phenomena of movement through this kind of space. Scaled up from politics to cosmology, the result is conspiracy theories: ontologies and epistemologies amplified and mutated in circulatory echo chambers amid "semiotic overload." What they showed was "the tip of the iceberg," they said, and "the stuff down below is even crazier."

Neural Media and High Dimensionality

Neural media, emerging from that circulatory space, is in Allado-McDowell's scheme high-dimensional, its content is hallucinated, and its identities are embedded. They began its history with Santiago Ramón y Cajal's stained neural tissue from 1890. The drawings were beautiful and also revolutionary in revealing our cognitive architecture. They inspired Warren McCulloch and Walter Pitts in 1943 to describe the mathematics of a computational neuron, followed, in the speaker's telling, by the perceptron as the first neural net.

Allado-McDowell came to AI research as a UX engineer who wrote code and built interfaces. They spent a lot of time asking AI researchers how neural nets work, and the researchers constantly talked about high dimensionality. It is hard to grasp because we live in three dimensions, but they argued the math is not that complicated. Take three nodes of a simple five-node network, call them X, Y, and Z, and you have 3D space. Add one or two more and you have combinations beyond it. They recalled a joke attributed to Geoff Hinton: AI researchers handle 17-dimensional space by picturing a 3D cube and shouting "seventeen" at it. With many interconnected layers you can have thousands, millions, or billions of nodes, and a thing's location in that space is what matters.

Their example was a computer-vision system labeling a picture of an orange. Its layers recognize patterns at increasing levels of abstraction, from bottom to top, until they arrive at the label. Some people believe our own recognition of an orange, or of an AI-generated image, works similarly. Trippy squirrel was made by running such a system backwards. Since then image quality has advanced sharply; even between 2022 and 2023 the change was visible. But Allado-McDowell chose to focus on less advanced images and what they mean for identity.

Hallucinated Content and the Bell Curve of AI Slop

Because the mathematics behind these systems is statistical, Allado-McDowell argues we should look at examples of statistical identification in culture. They started with the bell curve, probably the most widely understood distribution. Early image models like variational autoencoders, they said, would snap their networks to a bell curve, producing a characteristic distortion. That, they suggested, is much of what people now call "AI slop."

Their examples came from an account called "Insane Facebook AI Slop," which collects images posted to Facebook by bot accounts. The accounts presumably aim to drive traffic and likes and possibly to push political messages. The prompts show through the images: an overabundance of uniforms in the background, shoes, and similar artifacts. Allado-McDowell attributed this to cheap or free, unsophisticated models, and possibly to models snapping outputs to a bell-curve-like internal distribution. The content tends to be militaristic, patriotic "to an absurd extent," family-oriented, and sometimes simply huge piles of babies that make no sense. They find it surreal and said they don't understand who it is for. What interests them is that it pairs a "mid," slop-grade formal quality with the middle of the distribution of American ideology and identity. Some of it is animated, and physical objects are even being produced in this aesthetic. Someone went to a model, asked for an image, and took the first result, which means the most likely thing, the peak of the bell curve.

Allado-McDowell argues that inhabiting statistical distributions and finding identity within them is the key to understanding what these systems will do to us at scale. They see it already in dating discourse: data visualizations of someone's dating-app experience, and surveys about values or how groups perceive each other. Dealing with a fire insurer or a credit provider also means engaging with a statistical system, and more of these systems are now run by machine learning models.

Embedded Identity: Being Sensed, Modeled, and Reshaped

Early internet platforms, they recalled, used linear chronological timelines. In the 2010s, the birth phase of neural media in their chronology, algorithms took over the back end. Early machine learning powered content, shopping, and streaming recommendations, and modeling each user in statistical space became central. The term for your location in that high-dimensional space is an "embedding," a coordinate in a distribution that is like a landscape. Like early Nielsen meters or early web adtech, the system senses you, models you, and predicts what you want, or tries to get you to want what it has. Allado-McDowell tells this as a story of rising fidelity and resolution in detail and in time. Crude broadcast demographics become web analytics, then an AI back end, then an agent that models you and interacts with you closely over your personal data.

This, they argue, will inevitably shape our sense of self. Every decision will be conditioned by questions like whether you can get insured or get credit, whether you are a risk, whether you are desirable according to the model and the algorithm mediating it. Your identity may change socially because your dating profile doesn't do X, Y, or Z. You may be unable to get a job or live a certain way because of how the system perceives you. With generative media, the system then generates in relation to your embedding, so your media environment begins to reflect you.

New biometric tools extend this: the Oura ring, EEG-based brain-computer interfaces, even the phone's step-tracking sensors. They produce a mathematical image of you as an active body and of your health, and will certainly be used as training data. You then exist in the field of all possible biometric situations, positioned relative to someone very active or someone not active at all. You see yourself not only through how you feel but through how your signals construct you relative to others. If the system tells you to do something and you take the advice, it is reshaping you, and you are taking on aspects of its understanding of you. The person who most embodies this, they said, is Bryan Johnson of the "Don't Die" campaign, who maxes out biometric self-measurement. They called his a very self-oriented way of using the information.

Pointing the Systems at Nonhumans and the Earth

The possibility Allado-McDowell finds most hopeful is training AI systems and neural perception technologies on nonhumans. They pointed to Project CETI, which studies whales. Its first phase captures data and its next applies machine learning to understand whale expressions, some of which it is already doing. People across the cetacean-research field use algorithms to segment and organize recordings. SPUN, the Society for the Protection of Underground Networks, studies mycelium and has what they called an incredible geospatial dataset of mycelial distributions worldwide. More Than Human Life encourages legislation that translates Indigenous ontologies into law, which they connected to measures such as granting legal personhood to forests in Ecuador. They also showed NASA geospatial models that map the Earth from satellite imagery, noting that many kinds of geolocated data can be combined into a different picture of reality and of the planet.

Their argument is that where we focus AI systems' attention will profoundly affect our sense of identity. The important potential is to amplify our attention, and since we are halfway through the maturation cycle, they think we can still do it. Current embedding spaces are highly human-centric and product-centric. Could we have one that understood the Earth better and reflected us within it? Would that give us a different kind of embedded identity and open up not just new "tech trees" but social trees, value trees, or ecological understanding?

They summarized neural media as high-dimensional, with hallucinated or generated content and embedded identities. The building blocks of a different embedded identity already exist: analytics, biometrics, nonhuman sensing, and geospatial data. Considered together, and seen through a "prismatic" model that includes nonhuman intelligences, such an identity would be relational, perspectival, interdependent, and ecocentric.

The Pharmakon: Every Quality Cuts Both Ways

Allado-McDowell ended the lecture with a caution drawn from their first book's title. The pharmakon is the poison, the cure, and the scapegoat, and a poison can become a cure depending on the dose. Each quality they had just praised can also turn negative. An ecocentric perspective could mean fearing predators or worrying about toxins. Interdependence can mean lack when the species you depend on disappear. Relationality includes conflict. Their motivation for the framework, they said, is a belief that by looking for these openings and pushing neural media in other directions, we can "thread the needle" into the next part of the twenty-first century.

Q&A: Living in a Media Ecosystem

Long Now board president Patrick Dowd framed the questions around neural media as ecology and neural media and ecology. He first asked how people should think about consuming it, creating with it, and what it is made of, if it is treated as a kind of jungle.

Allado-McDowell answered that a media ecosystem whose entities can sense and model you resembles a natural one. Those entities may be friends or predators, and in nature animals often disguise themselves. Being perceived, misperceived, and guiding misperception drives much of evolution. A first step, they said, is awareness of how you are being perceived and moving with that awareness. A second is getting clear on your own motivations. In an environment that adapts to you and nudges you, you can be manipulated. Know what you want from these tools, whether creativity or information, and notice when your motivations are being supported and when they are being redirected.

On authorship and authenticity, given that AI can quickly produce what once took years, they said one of the hardest things is to create a context in which AI output is meaningful. Slop, "weird kind of melty hands and gross stuff," might be visually interesting alone, but a statistical system turning out material has no inherent meaning. Meaning comes from context and experience. Part of the artist's job, in their view, is refining slop, or something better than slop, and putting it into the right container. With Pharmako-AI, readers can see the decisions being made on the page. The book is also about the context of that moment: grappling with an emerging technology, with time, ancestry, and the ecosystem, while COVID was happening. Because meaning-making in art is already collaborative with viewers and context, they don't find it a big shock to add another vector of meaning production. But you still have to make meaning with it.

A Copernican Shift, Compute Priorities, and Coordination

Dowd suggested that because current neural media is trained on the artifacts of human network media, it reflects our neuroses. He compared the move toward an embedded, nonhuman-aware identity to the Copernican revolution: an idea that might seem to have no practical use but that yielded many inventions by bringing our perspective closer to nature. Allado-McDowell agreed. They are most hopeful about geospatial models and interspecies understanding, and about displacing the human from the center, seeing ourselves prismatically and relationally. That may seem obvious to some people, they said, but it interests them that AI forces the conversation. As they sometimes put it, you can get "the infinite black hole TikTok at the end of time" or a better understanding of nature.

They connected this to resource constraints. Companies are setting aside sustainability goals because AI's energy needs mean they won't meet them, and the market has turned something done fairly conservatively a few years ago into an arms race for market dominance, which "just is what it is." Because of that heavy resource use, we have to decide what computation is for. They like cat videos and animal videos, they said, but how do we decide the most valuable use of computation? That question leaves technology for policy, shared values, and coordinating as a species. "It's not an information problem," they said, "it's a coordination problem."

Extinction, Biodiversity as Intelligence, and 200,000 Names

Dowd then asked how their focus on extinction, through artworks and monuments in development, connects to making AI reflect nonhuman intelligence. Allado-McDowell said the insight came partly from audience members who approached them after talks to ask about nonhuman intelligence. It made them realize how much intelligence the biosphere has evolved, at great cost in life, and embodied physically: knowledge of a biome and of relationships with other species, held in the actual forms of beings specialized to live in particular ways. When people fetishize machine intelligence, they would point to any animal as the physical embodiment of a kind of intelligence. If we wanted to maximize intelligence on Earth, they argued, we would focus on biodiversity, intelligence that took millions of years to accumulate and find its place among others. Carve out all of it and replace it with AI and the result is "vastly insufficient." This is not only semiotic or linguistic intelligence but sensory ability, such as birds perceiving the electromagnetic spectrum or spiders using it to fly, which they called miraculous feats that cannot be reproduced.

Focusing on this was debilitating for them as an artist. It seemed hard to make art at all, or to play with evolving machine intelligence while so much other intelligence was being lost. What unlocked it was their newest project, an opera. The libretto for the first act consists of 200,000 names of species that, according to paleobiologists, have lived and gone extinct as far as we know. They are shaping those names into something that can be sung, and plan an installation where people can sing and speak them. It will also include a mockup of a monument they hope to build: all the names carved in stone, so that people thousands of years from now will see that "we were aware of what was here" and have a record even if everything is gone. The second act is the inscription of a new name when a species inevitably goes extinct.

The research itself changed them. They had been afraid of extinction, afraid even to understand it. With a research assistant they set out to gather all the names. At first it seemed like a lot; after a while it seemed like nothing, given how long Earth has existed, that this is only the fossil record, and that "we just kind of made up these stories." Recognizing the vastness of the biosphere in time and space, they said, was a profound liberation from their own belief in what they understood.

Dowd summarized their view: the greater intelligence we seek may lie in living beings rather than in more GPUs and the energy to run them. Allado-McDowell called that the obvious answer. The real question is what to do knowing it. In an attention economy, can we place our attention on that intelligence? What would happen if we pointed the synthetic intelligence we are building at the intelligence all around us and became part of it? They acknowledged the deeper question of whether we should make this technology at all, but said that if it is going to happen, and they are not the one who can stop it, this is the possibility they advocate. They saw recent signs of promise in medicine, citing a tool called Co-Scientist that they said produced in 48 hours a hypothesis that had taken ten years to reach manually. There is a potential Renaissance waiting inside these tools, they concluded, "but they have to be focused on the right thing."