Reading Computer Vision for Artists and Designers made me realize how differently machines interpret the visual world compared to humans. Where my eyes and brain can immediately recognize faces, objects, and contexts, a computer sees only streams of pixel data without inherent meaning. That difference kinda amazes me: what feels intuitive for me (like noticing the mood on a friend’s face) must be translated into measurable rules for the computer, such as brightness thresholds or background subtraction. This gap forces me to think about vision not as a natural act but as a series of constructed processes, something that both reveals the limits of human assumptions and opens new artistic possibilities.
The text also showed me that helping computers “see” isn’t only about coding better algorithms but also about designing the physical environment to be legible to the machine. Techniques like backlighting, infrared illumination, or retroreflective markers are surprisingly simple but effective. I found this point significant because it shifts responsibility back onto the artist or designer: we’re not just programming systems but curating conditions where vision becomes possible.
What I can’t ignore, though, is how these same techniques can easily blur into surveillance. Works like Lozano-Hemmer’s Standards and Double Standards or Jeremijenko’s Suicide Box made me uncomfortable precisely because they expose how tracking technologies, even when playful or artistic, carry power dynamics. If a belt can silently follow me or a camera can count unacknowledged tragedies, then computer vision isn’t neutral, it’s political. This makes me question: when I use vision algorithms in interactive art, am I creating a playful experience, or am I rehearsing systems of control?
For me, the text ultimately sharpened a tension: computer vision is at once liberating, because it expands interaction beyond a keyboard and mouse, and troubling, because it normalizes being watched. As a student studying Interactive Media, I feel I must navigate this duality carefully. A question that stuck with me is how to design works that use computer vision responsibly, acknowledging its history in surveillance, while still exploring its potential for creativity and embodiment.