Nicholas Money, Miami University

Mold growth in your home can be unsettling. Blackened spots and dusty patches on the walls are signs that something is amiss, but it is important to distinguish between mold growth that is a nuisance and mold growth that may be harmful.

There are more than 1 million species of fungi. Some are used to produce important medications. Others can cause life-threatening infections when they grow in the body.

Microscopic fungi that grow in homes are a problem because they can trigger asthma and other allergies. In my work as a fungal biologist, however, I have yet to encounter robust scientific evidence to support claims that indoor molds are responsible for other serious illnesses.

What are molds?

Molds are microscopic fungi that grow on everything. This may sound like an exaggeration, but pick any material and a mold will be there, from the leaves on your houseplant to the grain in your pantry and every pinch of soil on the ground. They form splotches on the outside of buildings, grow in crevices on concrete paths and roads, and even live peacefully on our bodies.

Molds are important players in life on Earth. They’re great recyclers that fertilize the planet with fresh nutrients as they rot organic materials. Mildew is another word for mold.

Fungi, including molds, produce microscopic, seed-like particles called spores that spread in the air. Mold spores are produced on stalks. There are so many of these spores that you inhale them with every breath. Thousands could fit within the period at the end of this sentence.

When these spores land on surfaces, they germinate to form threads that elongate, and they branch to create spidery colonies that expand into circular patches. After mold colonies have grown for a few days, they start producing a new generation of spores.

Where do indoor molds grow?

Molds can grow in any building. Even in the cleanest homes, there will be traces of mold growth beneath bathroom and kitchen sinks. They’re also likely to grow on shower curtains, as well as in sink drains, dishwashers and washing machines.

Molds grow wherever water collects, but they become a problem in buildings only when there is a persistent plumbing leak, or in flooded homes.

There are many species of indoor molds, which an expert can identify by looking at their spores with a microscope.

The types of molds that grow in homes include species of Aspergillus and Penicillium, which are difficult to tell apart. These are joined by Cladosporium and Chaetomium, which loves to grow on wet carpets.

Stachybotrys is another common fungus in homes. I’ve found it under plant pots in my living room.

When does mold growth become a problem?

Problematic mold growth occurs when drywall becomes soaked through and mold colonies develop into large, brown or black patches. If the damaged area is smaller than a pizza box, you can probably clean it yourself. But more extensive mold growth often requires removing and replacing the drywall. Either way, solving the plumbing leak or protecting the home from flooding is essential to prevent the mold from returning.

In cases of severe mold growth, you can hire an indoor air quality specialist to measure the concentration of airborne spores in the home. Low concentrations of spores are normal and present no hazard, but high concentrations of spores can cause allergies.

During air testing, a specialist will sample the air inside and outside the home on the same day. If the level of spores measured in indoor air is much higher than the level measured in the outdoor air, molds are likely growing somewhere inside the home.

Another indication of mold growth inside the home is the presence of different kinds of molds in the outdoor and indoor air. Professional air sampling will identify both of these issues.

Why are indoor molds a problem?

Indoor molds present three problems. First, they create an unappealing living space by discoloring surfaces and creating unpleasant, moldy smells. Second, their spores, which float in the air, can cause asthma and allergic rhinitis, or hay fever.

Finally, some molds produce poisonous chemicals called mycotoxins. There is no scientific evidence linking mycotoxins produced by indoor molds to illnesses among homeowners. But mycotoxins could cause problems in the most severe cases of mold damage – usually in flooded homes. Irrespective of mycotoxin problems, you should treat mold growth in these more severe situations to prevent allergies.

The mold called Stachybotrys has been called the toxic black mold since its growth was linked to lung bleeding in infants in Cleveland in the 1990s. This fungus grows on drywall when it becomes soaked with water and produces a range of mycotoxins.

Black mold spores are sticky and are not blown into the air very easily. This behavior limits the number of spores that anyone around will likely inhale, and it means that any dose of the toxins you might absorb from indoor mold is vanishingly small. But the developing lungs of babies and children are particularly vulnerable to damage. This is why it is important to limit mold growth in homes and address the sources of moisture that stimulate its development.

Knowing when indoor molds require attention is a useful skill for every homeowner and can allow them to avoid unnecessary stress.

Nicholas Money, Professor of Biology, Miami University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Holly Willis, University of Southern California

Type text into AI image and video generators, and you’ll often see outputs of unusual, sometimes creepy, pictures.

In a way, this is a feature, not a bug, of generative AI. And artists are wielding this aesthetic to create a new storytelling art form.

The tools, such as Midjourney to generate images, Runway and Sora to produce videos, and Luma AI to create 3D objects, are relatively cheap or free to use. They allow filmmakers without access to major studio budgets or soundstages to make imaginative short films for the price of a monthly subscription.

I’ve studied these new works as the co-director of the AI for Media & Storytelling studio at the University of Southern California.

Surveying the increasingly captivating output of artists from around the world, I partnered with curators Jonathan Wells and Meg Grey Wells to produce the Flux Festival, a four-day showcase of experiments in AI filmmaking, in November 2024.

While this work remains dizzyingly eclectic in its stylistic diversity, I would argue that it offers traces of insight into our contemporary world. I’m reminded that in both literary and film studies, scholars believe that as cultures shift, so do the way we tell stories.

With this cultural connection in mind, I see five visual trends emerging in film.

1. Morphing, blurring imagery

In her “NanoFictions” series, the French artist Karoline Georges creates portraits of transformation. In one short, “The Beast,” a burly man mutates from a two-legged human into a hunched, skeletal cat, before morphing into a snarling wolf.

The metaphor – man is a monster – is clear. But what’s more compelling is the thrilling fluidity of transformation. There’s a giddy pleasure in seeing the figure’s seamless evolution that speaks to a very contemporary sensibility of shapeshifting across our many digital selves.

This sense of transformation continues in the use of blurry imagery that, in the hands of some artists, becomes an aesthetic feature rather than a vexing problem.

Theo Lindquist’s “Electronic Dance Experiment #3,” for example, begins as a series of rapid-fire shots showing flashes of nude bodies in a soft smear of pastel colors that pulse and throb. Gradually it becomes clear that this strange fluidity of flesh is a dance. But the abstraction in the blur offers its own unique pleasure; the image can be felt as much as it can be seen.

2. The surreal

Thousands of TikTok videos demonstrate how cringey AI images can get, but artists can wield that weirdness and craft it into something transformative. The Singaporean artist known as Niceaunties creates videos that feature older women and cats, riffing on the concept of the “auntie” from Southeast and East Asian cultures.

In one recent video, the aunties let loose clouds of powerful hairspray to hold up impossible towers of hair in a sequence that grows increasingly ridiculous. Even as they’re playful and poignant, the videos created by Niceaunties can pack a political punch. They comment on assumptions about gender and age, for example, while also tackling contemporary issues such as pollution.

On the darker side, in a music video titled “Forest Never Sleeps,” the artist known as Doopiidoo offers up hybrid octopus-women, guitar-playing rats, rooster-pigs and a wood-chopping ostrich-man. The visual chaos is a sweet match for the accompanying death metal music, with surrealism returning as a powerful form.

3. Dark tales

The often-eerie vibe of so much AI-generated imagery works well for chronicling contemporary ills, a fact that several filmmakers use to unexpected effect.

In “La Fenêtre,” Lucas Ortiz Estefanell of the AI agency SpecialGuestX pairs diverse image sequences of people and places with a contemplative voice-over to ponder ideas of reality, privacy and the lives of artificially generated people. At the same time, he wonders about the strong desire to create these synthetic worlds. “When I first watched this video,” recalls the narrator, “the meaning of the image ceased to make sense.”

In the music video titled “Closer,” based on a song by Iceboy Violet and nueen, filmmaker Mau Morgó captures the world-weary exhaustion of Gen Z through dozens of youthful characters slumbering, often under the green glow of video screens. The snapshot of a generation that has come of age in the era of social media and now artificial intelligence, pictured here with phones clutched close to their bodies as they murmur in their sleep, feels quietly wrenching.

4. Nostalgia

Sometimes filmmakers turn to AI to capture the past.

Rome-based filmmaker Andrea Ciulu uses AI to reimagine 1980s East Coast hip-hop culture in “On These Streets,” which depicts the city’s expanse and energy through breakdancing as kids run through alleys and then spin magically up into the air.

Ciulu says that he wanted to capture New York’s urban milieu, all of which he experienced at a distance, from Italy, as a kid. The video thus evokes a sense of nostalgia for a mythic time and place to create a memory that is also hallucinatory.

Similarly, David Slade’s “Shadow Rabbit” borrows black-and-white imagery reminiscent of the 1950s to show small children discovering miniature animals crawling about on their hands. In just a few seconds, Slade depicts the enchanting imagination of children and links it to generated imagery, underscoring AI’s capacities for creating fanciful worlds.

5. New times, new spaces

In his video for the song “The Hardest Part” by Washed Out, filmmaker Paul Trillo creates an infinite zoom that follows a group of characters down the seemingly endless aisle of a school bus, through the high school cafeteria and out onto the highway at night. The video perfectly captures the zoominess of time and the collapse of space for someone young and in love haplessly careening through the world.

The freewheeling camera also characterizes the work of Montreal-based duo Vallée Duhamel, whose music video “The Pulse Within” spins and twirls, careening up and around characters who are cut loose from the laws of gravity.

In both music videos, viewers experience time and space as a dazzling, topsy-turvy vortex where the rules of traditional time and space no longer apply.

Right now, in a world where algorithms increasingly shape everyday life, many works of art are beginning to reflect how intertwined we’ve become with computational systems.

What if machines are suggesting new ways to see ourselves, as much as we’re teaching them to see like humans?

Holly Willis, Professor of Cinematic Arts, University of Southern California

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Roger J. Kreuz, University of Memphis

How will the internet evolve in the coming decades?

Fiction writers have explored some possibilities.

In his 2019 novel “Fall,” science fiction author Neal Stephenson imagined a near future in which the internet still exists. But it has become so polluted with misinformation, disinformation and advertising that it is largely unusable.

Characters in Stephenson’s novel deal with this problem by subscribing to “edit streams” – human-selected news and information that can be considered trustworthy.

The drawback is that only the wealthy can afford such bespoke services, leaving most of humanity to consume low-quality, noncurated online content.

To some extent, this has already happened: Many news organizations, such as The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal, have placed their curated content behind paywalls. Meanwhile, misinformation festers on social media platforms like X and TikTok.

Stephenson’s record as a prognosticator has been impressive – he anticipated the metaverse in his 1992 novel “Snow Crash,” and a key plot element of his “Diamond Age,” released in 1995, is an interactive primer that functions much like a chatbot.

On the surface, chatbots seem to provide a solution to the misinformation epidemic. By dispensing factual content, chatbots could supply alternative sources of high-quality information that aren’t cordoned off by paywalls.

Ironically, however, the output of these chatbots may represent the greatest danger to the future of the web – one that was hinted at decades earlier by Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges.

The rise of the chatbots

Today, a significant fraction of the internet still consists of factual and ostensibly truthful content, such as articles and books that have been peer-reviewed, fact-checked or vetted in some way.

The developers of large language models, or LLMs – the engines that power bots like ChatGPT, Copilot and Gemini – have taken advantage of this resource.

To perform their magic, however, these models must ingest immense quantities of high-quality text for training purposes. A vast amount of verbiage has already been scraped from online sources and fed to the fledgling LLMs.

The problem is that the web, enormous as it is, is a finite resource. High-quality text that hasn’t already been strip-mined is becoming scarce, leading to what The New York Times called an “emerging crisis in content.”

This has forced companies like OpenAI to enter into agreements with publishers to obtain even more raw material for their ravenous bots. But according to one prediction, a shortage of additional high-quality training data may strike as early as 2026.

As the output of chatbots ends up online, these second-generation texts – complete with made-up information called “hallucinations,” as well as outright errors, such as suggestions to put glue on your pizza – will further pollute the web.

And if a chatbot hangs out with the wrong sort of people online, it can pick up their repellent views. Microsoft discovered this the hard way in 2016, when it had to pull the plug on Tay, a bot that started repeating racist and sexist content.

Over time, all of these issues could make online content even less trustworthy and less useful than it is today. In addition, LLMs that are fed a diet of low-calorie content may produce even more problematic output that also ends up on the web.

An infinite − and useless − library

It’s not hard to imagine a feedback loop that results in a continuous process of degradation as the bots feed on their own imperfect output.

A July 2024 paper published in Nature explored the consequences of training AI models on recursively generated data. It showed that “irreversible defects” can lead to “model collapse” for systems trained in this way – much like an image’s copy and a copy of that copy, and a copy of that copy, will lose fidelity to the original image.

How bad might this get?

Consider Borges’ 1941 short story “The Library of Babel.” Fifty years before computer scientist Tim Berners-Lee created the architecture for the web, Borges had already imagined an analog equivalent.

In his 3,000-word story, the writer imagines a world consisting of an enormous and possibly infinite number of hexagonal rooms. The bookshelves in each room hold uniform volumes that must, its inhabitants intuit, contain every possible permutation of letters in their alphabet.

Initially, this realization sparks joy: By definition, there must exist books that detail the future of humanity and the meaning of life.

The inhabitants search for such books, only to discover that the vast majority contain nothing but meaningless combinations of letters. The truth is out there –but so is every conceivable falsehood. And all of it is embedded in an inconceivably vast amount of gibberish.

Even after centuries of searching, only a few meaningful fragments are found. And even then, there is no way to determine whether these coherent texts are truths or lies. Hope turns into despair.

Will the web become so polluted that only the wealthy can afford accurate and reliable information? Or will an infinite number of chatbots produce so much tainted verbiage that finding accurate information online becomes like searching for a needle in a haystack?

The internet is often described as one of humanity’s great achievements. But like any other resource, it’s important to give serious thought to how it is maintained and managed – lest we end up confronting the dystopian vision imagined by Borges.

Roger J. Kreuz, Associate Dean and Professor of Psychology, University of Memphis

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.