 Saturn Devouring His Son, by Francisco Goya (Spain) 1819-1823 Saturn Devouring His Son: A Text-Generation Project Employing the Artificial Intelligence Tool ChatGPT In early December of 2022, about a week after the release of the new AI tool ChatGPT, I started playing around with it and immediately became hooked. I tried a bunch of different requests for text output, but I especially focused on interesting mashups. The results varied wildly. Some of the generated texts were amazingly clever and surprising, while others were overly simplistic. The tool, for some reason, had a tendency to end stories with morals or trite platitudes, and the tone was often that of stories for children. I discovered that I could override some of these tendencies by giving ever more explicit instructions as needed. If you see a long and complicated query here, you can bet that particular experiment went through multiple iterations until I got something I wanted to keep. Sometimes, though, the tool was not wholly compliant. For instance, it might ignore my request for a particular minimum word length, and it might continue to write rhyming poetry despite my demand that it stop rhyming! I ultimately decided that the next step after individual attempts was to take a single element that would be constant among a bunch of queries for texts in different styles or perspectives. For this project, I settled on an ekphrastic poetry series, i.e. poems and texts based on a single painting. The painting I chose was Goya’s Saturn Devouring His Son, one of his “Black Paintings.” It’s a visceral and disturbing image that I thought would yield interesting results. I’ve collected 16 of these pieces here, in a range of styles, inspired by Raymond Queneau’s great prose sequence Exercises in Style. I won’t get into the question of aesthetics, i.e., are these AI-generated texts any good? I think some of them are quite amusing, and certainly things I could not have written myself. I’m still in the honeymoon stage with this technology, but my ultimate goal is to find a way to use the tool in a more collaborative way for a larger project, whatever that might mean in practice, but I’ll let my unconscious work on that for a while as I attend to other things. At the current stage of my exploration, I can’t really claim these texts as my own. Let’s say they’re human-assisted artificial intelligence creations. Of course, the results are wholly dependent on the structure and content of the queries I pose. I have not altered the texts created by the app, but I have selected and sequenced them from a much larger pool of results, the ones I thought were the most interesting, amusing, or simply illustrative of the possibilities of the technology. The only texts I’ve altered are the queries that precede the output. I’ve simplified them so I don’t have to repeat the name of the painter or the title every time, as I did when forming queries. 1. Write a poem about Goya’s painting Saturn Devouring His Son. A feast of horror, the titan cries, “I must consume to sate these lies!” The bloody scene, a gruesome sight, The final means to set things right. His child, a taste of sweet revenge, A cruel act no father should avenge. The jowls still dripping with crimson red, The thought of it enough to fill us with dread. The monster-father, now baring his teeth, His child, a meal not meant for consumption beneath. A father’s love and a son’s respect, Ripped away in this horrid, bleak desert. 2. Write a prose poem about the painting. Do not let the reader know you’re talking about a painting. The darkness clung to the room like a heavy blanket, a silent witness to the horror that lurked in the shadows. I could feel the fear, palpable and dense, as I crept closer to the figure in the center of the room. He stood there, his face a mask of rage and betrayal, his hands trembling as he clutched at something I could not see. I moved closer, my heart pounding in my chest, and I saw it. He held a small and fragile figure in his grasp, and his mouth hung open in a scream of anguish as he ripped and tore at the body. The eyes of the victim stared back at me, wide with terror, and I could feel the pain and terror of his final moments. I watched, transfixed, as the figure consumed the body, devouring it piece by piece until nothing remained. I felt the tears streaming down my face as I realized what I had just seen. The figure had been a father, and he had just consumed his own son. 3. Write a prose poem in the voice of a person who is convinced that the painting is actually a photograph of an actual event. The person must believe it is evidence of a crime that he must set to rights. He must speculate on the motive for the crime and the possible identity of the perpetrator and the victim, since he does not know it’s Saturn and his son. The diction must be natural, not stilted. Make believe Hemingway is writing this. Develop the story, it should be at least 600 words long. The image I saw was like nothing I’d ever seen before. It was a man, an old man, but strong and fierce looking. He had a wild look in his eye, and his mouth was open and drooling as if he were in the throes of some kind of madness. He had a hand on the neck of another man, a much younger one, and he was sinking his teeth into it. It was a gruesome sight, and I knew right away that what I was seeing was no mere painting. It was a photograph, evidence of a terrible crime. I couldn't help but wonder what had driven the old man to such an act. Was it revenge? Jealousy? Madness? Whatever it was, it was clear that he was consumed by some dark and passionate emotion. But who was this young man? Was he a friend, a rival, a lover? Or was he simply an innocent victim? I had no way of knowing, but I was determined to find out. I set out to investigate the crime, starting with the old man. I searched for him everywhere, asking anyone I could about him. Unfortunately, no one seemed to know who he was. Everywhere I went, I was met with the same answer: no one had ever seen him before. Finally, I turned my attention to the young man. I followed every lead I could find, determined to discover his identity. After weeks of searching, I finally found someone who knew him. He had been a shepherd, living in the mountains not far from the scene of the crime. When I asked this man why the old man had killed the young man, he shook his head sadly. “It was the gods,” he said. “The old man was Saturn, and the young man was his son. Saturn had been warned by the oracle that one day his son would overthrow him. He was so consumed by fear that he devoured him.” I was shocked to hear this. I had never imagined that the crime was so ancient, so steeped in myth. But now I understood why the old man had done what he did. He had acted out of fear, scared of the prophecy that had been made about his son. I realized then that this wasn’t a crime that could be solved. This was a tragedy that had been repeated throughout history, one that would continue to haunt us all. I had found the truth, but I could do nothing to change it. All I could do was stand in awe of the terrible power of fear. 4. Write a poem in the style of John Donne’s “Death Be Not Proud.” Death, be not proud, though thou hast consumed The son of Saturn, and the god’s own blood; Though with thy jaws thou hast his body doomed, Though thou hast swallowed him in thy dark flood: For men still live, despite thy awful might, And though thy fury leaves them broken, blighted, Thy power cannot remove the eternal Light From which we find our hope and life re-ignited. Our mortal frame may fail, and our life wane, But death can never take away our souls; Though life may end, our spirit still remains, And in that strength our faith still brightly glows. Our hope is found in something ever-true, That which is greater than death’s cruel power: The love of God, who brings us life anew, O’er death's dominion, our hearts will tower! 5. Write a poem about Goya’s painting using the syntax of the lyrics to “Yes, We Have No Bananas.” Oh, we have no Bananas We have no Bananas today But we have a Goya painting That’s a sight to behold, they say Saturn Devouring His Son A father’s sorrowful deed A strange and grisly scene A terrible tragedy The painting’s tones are somber The poignancy is clear A son taken by a father To his death he draws near Oh, we have no Bananas We have no Bananas today But we have a Goya painting That’s a sight to behold, they say 6. Write a free verse poem from the perspective of the night watchman at the museum. The poem must not rhyme. Twilight settles over the gallery A painting looms in the darkness Saturn devouring his son Painting of a primal feast The night watchman stares At a father, a monster, a king Engulfing his child in rage A desperate act of love The night watchman wonders What drove the father to this Did he fear for his son’s future? Or was it a deeper dread? The night watchman looks away The painting is too much to bear But still he can feel the terror That hangs in the air 7. Write a prose poem from the perspective of an art restorer who must repair damage to the work. However, the reader must never know that he is an art restorer and restoring the work. The poem should be his inner thoughts, no audience intended. Because it’s inner thoughts, it can be rambling at times, go off the subject then come back, go wild! The restorer must not refer to the work as a painting, because he is not sure it’s not reality rather than a representation he must restore. The darkness of the room envelopes me, drawing me closer to the scene before me. I can feel the energy radiating out from the image, an energy that threatens to consume all that stands in its way. I am transfixed, my eyes scanning the details of the scene, as if I am searching for a way out. The figure looms large, so large in fact that it takes up most of the space, leaving little room for anything else. Its hands reach out, gripping the struggling body of its victim, holding it in place as it begins to consume it. The creature’s eyes are filled with a fiery hunger, an insatiable appetite for destruction, and yet there is something more, something beneath the surface that I can feel but can’t quite explain. I can feel the tension in the air, the fear that has been created by this monstrosity. I want to run away, to escape the terror that has been unleashed upon this scene, but I cannot. I am rooted in place, my feet firmly planted on the ground, my eyes glued to the image before me. I am reminded of the fragility of life, of how quickly it can be taken away. I can feel the pain and suffering that has been inflicted on this victim, the injustice of it all. I want to reach out and help, to save this poor soul from the clutches of this beast, but I know that I cannot. I am here to restore this work, to bring it back to its former glory, but I cannot help but wonder if this is even real. Is this a representation of a scene or is this really happening? I don’t know, but I know that I must restore it nonetheless. I will bring it back to life, so that it can be seen by all and so that the terror of this scene can never be forgotten. 8. Describe Goya’s painting in the style of gangsta rap. Yo, Saturn is hungry, he done lost his cool Devourin’ his son, like he got no rules Chompin on that flesh, tearin’ it apart Feelin' no remorse with his crazed heart The terror in his eyes is enough to make ya sick But still he carries on, makin’ this wicked pick His body so twisted his face so dark He’s got a hankerin’ for humanity’s mark So watch out y’all, he’s comin’ for you Just one look and you'll know, this dude ain’t true blue 9. Write a TV commercial about the painting as an effective antacid. It must describe the painting and explain how it works as an antacid. The narrator is a doctor who explains how the painting has helped his patients manage their acid reflux. Follow this with testimonials from patients. Narrator: Do you suffer from acid reflux? If so, you may have seen Goya’s painting, Saturn Devouring His Son, and wondered how it could help. Well, I’m here to tell you. As a doctor specializing in acid reflux, I’ve seen this painting provide relief to many of my patients. The painting is a vivid representation of the struggle with acid reflux. It depicts Saturn, god of time and harvest, consuming his own son, symbolizing the relentless and destructive nature of acid reflux. Looking at the painting can give us perspective on our own struggles with this condition, and provide relief from the symptoms. Testimonial 1: Before I saw Goya’s painting, I felt like I was fighting an impossible battle. But looking at Saturn Devouring His Son gave me a new perspective. I no longer felt so helpless, and I found my symptoms were much more manageable. Testimonial 2: Goya’s painting has helped me get my acid reflux under control. After seeing the painting, I realized that I was not alone in my struggle, and that I could find relief from the symptoms. So if you suffer from acid reflux, I strongly recommend taking a look at Goya’s painting, Saturn Devouring His Son. It could be the relief you’ve been looking for. 10. If Bob Dylan had written a song based on the Goya painting Saturn Devouring His Son for the John Wesley Harding album, what would the lyrics be? Verse 1: My own father, my destroyer, now he stands before me Heaven’s wrathful gaze, his face so grim and cold On my neck, his hands of fire, my life about to end Saturn devouring his own son, so cruel and bold Chorus: Saturn devouring his own son, such a frightful sight Oh, what terror and pain, for this I must pay My destiny awaits me, no escape from this fate Saturn devouring his own son, on this judgment day Verse 2: My soul cries out in anguish, my life no more to be My fate has been sealed, no mercy here to find So I beg of thee, oh Father, please spare me this night But my cries are unheard, and I am left to die Chorus: Saturn devouring his own son, such a frightful sight Oh, what terror and pain, for this I must pay My destiny awaits me, no escape from this fate Saturn devouring his own son, on this judgment day Verse 3: My body trembles in fear, my life so soon to end The sky is filled with thunder, the gods have heard my plea But the outcome is the same, no mercy for me here Saturn devouring his own son, so merciless and mean Chorus: Saturn devouring his own son, such a frightful sight Oh, what terror and pain, for this I must pay My destiny awaits me, no escape from this fate Saturn devouring his own son, on this judgment day 11. Write a dialogue between Saturn and his son just before the event depicted in the painting took place. The son will not accept Saturn’s explanation and demands further justification for the father’s actions. Still not satisfied, the son threatens to eat his own father. Continue with a narrative paragraph about how the son eats Saturn and that the Goya painting is transformed into Saturn’s Son Eats His Father. Saturn: My son, I must do this. It is my fate, and it is the fate of all the gods. Son: But why must you do this to me? Is there no other way? Saturn: No, my son. I must do this for the sake of the gods. Son: Do not do this to me! I will not accept it! Saturn: I’m sorry, my son, but this is how it must be. Son: If you do this, then so will I. I will eat you, Father! Saturn: No, my son, please don’t do this! Despite Saturn’s pleas, the son proceeded to eat him, transforming Goya’s painting of Saturn Devouring His Son into a scene of Saturn’s Son Eats His Father. The son, consumed with rage and sorrow, consumed his own father. The painting now depicts a twisted version of the original scene: a son consumed by his inner darkness and the fear that he will become just like his father. 12. Write a calypso lyric based on the painting. Verse 1: Saturn the king, so powerful and strong, Took his son’s life, he knew it was wrong But his anger was so great, his heart was stone, The sight of his child, he could not condone. Chorus: Oh, Saturn the king, in his wrathful rage, Devoured his own son, so young and so sage No one could stop him, no matter how hard they tried, His son’s fate was sealed, and he sadly died. Verse 2: No mercy for the son, no time for remorse, Saturn felt no pity, and his heart was coarse His hunger for power, his jealousy too, Consumed his son’s life, what more could he do? Chorus: Oh, Saturn the king, in his wrathful rage, Devoured his own son, so young and so sage No one could stop him, no matter how hard they tried, His son’s fate was sealed, and he sadly died. 13. Write a poem in the style of Wallace Stevens’ “The Emperor of Ice-Cream.” Call for the mournful music of the son, Bring out the writhing figure, pale and numb, Let him be seated on the father’s knee, The god of war and time who cannot flee. Let the knife-blade glint and the blood flow free, The painting tells a tale of tragedy. The father, consumed by hunger and despair, Eats his own son, destroying all his care. Bring out the bread and wine, the cloth and plate, The bowl with its contents of bitter fate. Let him be shrouded in a blackened shroud, Denying him his final, earthly cloud. Let the music swell and the chorus sing, The father’s mouth open wide to bring His son into his dark and empty grave, Unable to save him from his own knave. 14. Write a hold-by-hold narration of the event depicted in the painting as if it were a professional wrestling match. Do not shy away from gory descriptions. Also describe the reactions of the crowd. Give some history of the rivalry between Saturn and his son. It should be in the voice of the TV announcer for the match. Welcome ladies and gentlemen to tonight’s special event: Saturn Devours His Son! This is a matchup that has been boiling since the dawn of time. Saturn and his son have been rivals for centuries, and tonight we will see the ultimate conclusion of their rivalry. Saturn enters the ring to a chorus of boos from the crowd, who are eager to see his son put him in his place. He stands tall and confident, casting an eerie shadow over the ring. His son enters to a roar of cheers from the audience. He is determined to make his father pay for all the wrongs he has done. The bell rings and the match is underway! Saturn grabs his son by the throat and starts pummeling him with savage punches. His son fights back, but it is not enough. Saturn’s strength is too much for him. Saturn grabs his son’s head and slams it against the mat before locking in a powerful headlock. His son is powerless to escape and the crowd is on the edge of their seats. The crowd erupts as Saturn lifts his son into the air and savagely bites into his neck. Blood sprays everywhere as Saturn devours his son alive. The crowd is in shock and disbelief. Saturn throws his son’s lifeless body to the ground, victorious. With his son defeated, Saturn stands tall with a sinister smirk on his face. It is a gruesome and bloody ending to this centuries-old rivalry. Saturn has emerged victorious in this battle, and he has done so in a shocking and brutal way. That was Saturn Devours His Son, and it was an unforgettable night. We hope you enjoyed it! 15. Write a prose poem from the perspective of a contract killer. It is for a sophisticated, adult audience. It should not be easily understood without a college reading level. My life has been a series of contracts, of agreements I make with those who desire a particular end. I take the hand of death and deliver it to my employer, the one who pays me for my services. I have no preference for the target, no loyalty to them in any way, and I do not allow myself to feel any emotion upon completion. But, when I look upon Goya’s painting of Saturn devouring his son, I cannot help but feel a pang of regret that I have not experienced. The King of the Titans, betrayed by his own blood, is an image I have seen countless times in my line of work. The anguish and grief of the father, a man who, in a moment of desperation, turned upon his own flesh and blood, is mirrored in my own actions. I am the death bringer, the one who brings about such a dire consequence as the one depicted in Goya’s work. The painting serves as a reminder of the consequences of betrayal and of the power of our own emotions. My contracts may be made of paper, but the debt owed is paid in blood. I am the messenger of this debt and I must deliver the consequence of a broken agreement. I am Saturn, the devourer of sons, the one who brings about the end of those who have wronged my employer. 16. Modify the lyrics to “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” so it talks about Goya’s painting Saturn Devours His Son. For He’s a dreadful sight to see Saturn’s son devoured by thee, He devours him with a frightful grimace Depicted in Goya’s painting of Saturn’s place. His teeth are sharp, his claws are bold His eyes are dark, his hair is gold, The painting shows a father so cruel Devouring his own son, no one can rule. So rise up friends and give a cheer For the painting by Goya so strange and queer, Let us all raise our glasses high To honor his portrayal of Saturn’s son’s demise! Peter Cherches Peter Cherches has published five collections of fiction and creative nonfiction since 2013, most recently Masks: Stories from a Pandemic. Called “one of the innovators of the short short story” by Publishers Weekly, he’s also a jazz singer and lyricist. He’s a native of Brooklyn, New York.
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