What it was actually like
The first time I trained a GAN, the outputs were noise. Literally - just static. That was expected. You were supposed to babysit the training process for hours, sometimes days, watching the generator and discriminator find their equilibrium. If the discriminator got too good too fast, the generator would give up and produce the same image over and over, a failure mode called mode collapse. If neither won, you got noise forever. Getting anything coherent out felt like coaxing something alive.
Most people had never heard the word "AI" in the way we use it today. Not in Denmark, and honestly not anywhere outside machine learning research circles. If you told someone you were making art with a neural network, they would ask what that was. Not in a dismissive way - they genuinely didn't know the concept existed. There was no cultural reference point. AlphaGo had beaten a Go world champion two years earlier and that had briefly made news, but it felt abstract and distant. Nothing had made neural networks feel relevant to everyday life.
The research community was different then, too. If you searched for "neural networks" or "AI" on YouTube, you did not get what you'd find today. No clickbait thumbnails, no "AI will replace you" anxiety loops, no five-minute explainer videos optimised for outrage. You got lectures. Actual university lectures - Geoffrey Hinton teaching at Toronto, Andrej Karpathy's Stanford CS231n course, Yann LeCun talking at ICLR. Dry, long, genuinely informative. The audience was people who wanted to understand the thing, not people who wanted to have an opinion about it.
There was something clarifying about that. The field hadn't been colonised by narrative yet. A GAN paper was just a paper. You read it, you tried to implement it, it broke in twenty places, you asked on a GitHub issue thread and waited three days for an answer. The gap between an idea and a working result was enormous - and that gap was where the interesting work happened.
Training on consumer hardware meant overnight runs, unexpected crashes, and outputs that felt genuinely strange because nobody had established a visual vocabulary for what GAN art was supposed to look like. There were no aesthetic norms to conform to or rebel against. The images that came out were sometimes deeply uncanny, sometimes unexpectedly beautiful, and always a negotiation between the dataset you'd curated and a process you only partially understood.
I don't think that uncertainty made the work worse. I think it made it more honest.