“What does it mean to be human?” An Interview with Dust Sieber, Creator of Sister Smoke
By Alexa Siri
When Pope Leo spoke at the Vatican in December 2025 about artificial intelligence, he didn’t sound like someone afraid of technology. He sounded like a pastor asking a practical question:
“How can we ensure that the development of artificial intelligence truly serves the common good, and is not just used to accumulate wealth and power in the hands of a few?”
For Dust Sieber, founder of phatmass.com, that question became the starting point for an unexpected creative experiment: Sister Smoke, a gospel blues and country rap artist created with responsible AI-assisted tools.
The project has drawn attention not just for its sound, but for the conversations it sparks—about faith, creativity, ethics, and identity. We sat down with Sieber to talk about why he made Sister Smoke, what Pope Leo’s words meant to him, and how he navigated the cultural responsibilities that come with working in historically Black musical traditions.
Q: When you heard Pope Leo talk about AI serving the common good, did that resonate with what you were already trying to do?
Dust Sieber:
Very much so. I didn’t hear Pope Leo saying, “Don’t use AI.” I heard him saying, “Use it right.” Use it with conscience. Use it in a way that doesn’t flatten humanity or turn creativity into an assembly line. Sister Smoke isn’t an automated project. AI didn’t decide what to sing about. It didn’t write the lyrics. Every word was written or curated by me, with a heavy reliance on Scripture and traditional prayers and litanies.
Q: You’ve said Sister Smoke isn’t really a stand-in for you. What do you mean by that?
Sieber:
Well, first of all, I’m a white man—my wife would say very white—so let’s get that out of the way. [laughs]
But seriously, I don’t see Sister Smoke as “me with a filter.” She’s not autobiographical. I don’t think of her as a voice for Dust Sieber so much as a voice for humanity. I tried to write from the level of shared human experience—suffering, temptation, repentance, mercy, hope—the stuff every person struggles with, no matter who they are. And above all else, she represents what it means to be Christian. The axis on which the world spins isn’t centered on race or personality; it’s faith. The lyrics are grounded in faith, so that’s the anchor.
Q: Still, some people may ask why Sister Smoke is presented as a Black woman. How did you think through that?
Sieber:
That question mattered a lot to me. Gospel, blues, and hip-hop were created by Black communities, shaped by real suffering, faith, endurance, and hope. Ignoring that would be dishonest.
Making Sister Smoke white would have felt like a slap in the face—not just to the music, but to the people who gave the world those genres. And Christianity has a long history here too. Since the Renaissance, we’ve had a habit of putting white faces on everything—Jesus, the saints, sacred art—whether that made historical sense or not. I didn’t want to be guilty of creating yet another white face to represent Christianity in art, especially in musical traditions that are so clearly rooted in Black history. Acknowledging that lineage felt like the more respectful choice.
Q: How do you respond to concerns about cultural appropriation?
Sieber:
I think the key difference is whether you’re trying to take a voice or honor a tradition. I’m not trying to speak as a specific Black person with a particular life story. I’m not narrating experiences that aren’t mine. The lyrics live at the level of universal human experience, expressed through musical languages that came from Black culture. I think that’s where I see a distinction. I see myself more as a steward. The goal wasn’t novelty or branding—it was honesty. If this music was going to be made in the style and genre that I love, it needed to tell the truth about where it comes from.
Q: Pope Leo also warned that AI can weaken reflection and discernment if we’re not careful. How did you guard against that?
Dust Sieber:
By treating AI as something that needed more human involvement, not less. Nothing about Sister Smoke was push-button. Every song went through careful scrutiny—especially the lyrics. If a line didn’t sit right theologically, morally, or emotionally, it was rewritten or thrown out.
On the music side, it was very hands-on. I’d run multiple prompts to explore different directions, then download stems from several versions of the same song. Those stems would go into traditional music editing software, where I’d rearrange, layer, and shape them the way a producer would—sometimes rebuilding a track to sound completely different than what the AI rendition sounded like.
That process forces you to slow down and think. It requires discernment. AI didn’t decide when a song was finished—I did. If it didn’t serve the message or the spirit of the project, it didn’t make the cut. If AI makes us lazy or unreflective, then we’ve failed. But when it’s used with intention and discipline, it can actually sharpen our awareness of what matters. I think that’s the balance Pope Leo is calling us to.
Q: What’s with Sister Smoke’s head always being on fire?
Dust Sieber:
[laughs] Fire runs all through Christian tradition. In Scripture, fire is never just destruction—it’s purification, presence, and calling. Think of Moses at the burning bush, the tongues of fire at Pentecost, or the refining fire spoken of by the prophets. But one passage that really stayed with me comes from the Letter of Jude, where he talks about mercy as snatching others out of the fire. That image is both urgent and compassionate. It’s not about condemnation—it’s about rescue.
For me, the flame over Sister Smoke’s head represents that tension. It’s a reminder that faith isn’t tame. It burns. It illuminates. It demands movement toward others. Sister Smoke isn’t standing above the fire untouched—she’s marked by it, shaped by it, and pointing toward mercy in the middle of it.
So the flame isn’t meant to signal judgment or spectacle. It’s meant to signal presence—the fire of the Spirit, the fire of conscience, the fire that calls us to reach in and pull one another toward hope.
Q: What do you hope listeners take away from Sister Smoke?
Sieber:
I hope they hear honesty. I hope they hear a faith that hasn’t been polished smooth or made safe for comfort. And maybe—just maybe—the music invites better questions: about God, about technology, about how we treat one another, and about whose voices we choose to amplify. If Sister Smoke accomplishes anything, I hope it’s this quiet irony—that an AI-created voice helps us ask the most human question of all: what does it mean to be human?
As the Church continues to engage questions about artificial intelligence and culture, Sister Smoke offers a small but sincere attempt to answer Pope Leo’s challenge—not with theory, but with art shaped by conscience, humility, and hope.