Inventing that parasocial relation to a JPEG, at first sight, is nuts. Insisting you didn't experience that rush of wonder when you had no further context is a lie.
To say it's less interesting, fine, sure, people don't like the robot that draws anything you can describe. But people reach for extremes in a way that goes beyond subjectivity, and beyond irrationality, to the point it's contrarian. Like a teenager tearing posters off their wall and insisting they never liked their favorite band.
Personally? I've loved some albums that it turns out were made by fascist bigots. They're never getting another cent from me, and I'm less bothered that several of them got shot, but I'm not gonna pretend the music was bad now. If an artist's suffering and misery are what excites you about a painting of a flower, maybe the fact three people died onstage is a bonus.
Key evidence in the assertion that George Clooney is a comedic actor with a leading man's face.