My first AI experiment was all about that "Alien Shinjuku" vibe—neon, consumerism, a digital jungle. You can check it out @yusaymon/i-iai-n-1-alien-shinjuku-consumism. But for this next round, I got obsessed with a completely different texture: cardboard.
It started with feeding the machine—Midjourney, in this case—a diet of recycled ideas. I bombarded it with references: photos of corrugated cardboard, the rough brown textures, the way it bends and creases. My goal wasn't a landscape anymore; it was a transformation. I wanted to take the central figure from my last series, that stylish girl in Shinjuku, and reimagine her. Not as a digital entity, but as something tactile, imperfect, and sustainable: a doll made of recycled cardboard, buttons, and scrap fabric.
Let me tell you, convincing an AI to do this was like being a very patient, yet slightly exasperated, art director. You don't just type "cardboard doll" and get magic. It's a dialogue, often feeling like you're shouting into the void: "Noooo, not like that! More texture! Less perfect! Think recycled!"
After several days of this back-and-forth, I finally landed on a set of images that clicked. I had my core concept: a series of five unique cardboard dolls. But for every keeper, there were dozens of rejects. The AI loves to add extra limbs, smooth out organic flaws, or just invent something entirely out of left field. It's part of the frustrating, fascinating process.
Here are the five dolls that made the final cut. I love their individual personalities, the hint of stitching, and the tangible, handmade feel we managed to achieve.
With the dolls set, I wanted to push the concept further. Why not place them in a scene? My mind went to a fishbowl or an aquarium—a contained, miniature world. How hard could it be to make a cardboard tank with cardboard fish?
Turns out, pretty hard. The AI struggled with the logic of a contained ecosystem. It kept merging the doll with the tank or creating surreal, liquid cardboard that didn't make sense. These are some of the attempts that didn't quite work, but show the weird, wonderful struggle.
The key to unlocking the final scene was a technical prompt. I stopped just describing the what and started directing the how. I asked for a fisheye lens effect (--ar 16:9 for a widescreen view). This forced a curved, distorted perspective that instantly felt more like looking into a real, round fishbowl.
Combined with prompts for "cardboard fish," "water made of crinkled blue paper," and "submerged doll," the AI finally started to collaborate instead of fight. The results had a playful, diorama-like quality I loved.
These two images are my favorites from the entire experiment. They capture the melancholy and creativity of a handmade world. The texture is undeniable, the concept feels cohesive, and the fisheye lens adds that perfect touch of immersion. Is that an extra arm appearing in one? Maybe. But sometimes, the AI's little "mistakes" add to the charm of a recycled, assembled creature.
This experiment taught me that the most powerful tool in AI art isn't a secret prompt, but persistence and a clear visual goal. You have to guide the machine through textures, concepts, and even camera lenses.
The journey from a glossy, alien city to these gritty, recycled dolls was a wild creative shift. For Experiment #3, I'm taking these cardboard creatures out of their bowl. The prompt is brewing: think a forgotten attic, afternoon sun through dust motes, and a story waiting to be told.
Thanks for following along this messy, rewarding process. On to the next one.
Experiment 1: Alien Shinjuku & Consumism
Experiment 2: Cardboard Dolls & Fisheye Dreams (You are here)
Experiment 3: Coming soon...
