Artificial intelligence has quickly become part of the artist’s toolbox. Whether we invited it or not. It can generate references in seconds, help visualize compositions, or even inspire entirely new directions in a piece. Used thoughtfully, it can be a remarkable tool for idea generation and experimentation. But it also raises an uncomfortable question: where does the line fall between creation and replication?
At its best, AI can amplify creativity. It can help an artist see the possibilities hidden inside a blank canvas, it's a way to sketch faster, explore color palettes, or overcome a bout of creative block. But at its worst, it can flatten the very thing that makes art worth making. When the process becomes too easy, when the discovery happens without struggle or intuition, something vital is lost. The joy of art lies in the act of wrestling an idea into being — the unpredictable, human mess of it all.
Artists have always borrowed from technology, the camera obscura, Photoshop, the iPad. But AI feels different because it doesn’t just extend the hand of the artist; it can replace it. It can produce something that looks like art without anyone feeling anything while making it. That’s where the ethical question deepens. If the heart of art is expression, can something made by a machine, even one directed by an artist, truly carry that spark?
Perhaps the answer lies in intention. When AI becomes a collaborator rather than a shortcut, it can be part of the creative journey without hollowing it out. The danger isn’t the technology itself, but how easily it tempts us to skip the struggle, to trade the slow, uncertain joy of making for instant output.
Art, they type we have in the gallery, is truly one of the last hand made items in this world. Furniture, vases, everything seems to be mass produced now. There was a time when the statue you had on your mantel was from your journey to meet an artist in Cuba, now (sadly) it's from HomeGoods and there is no story associated to it. There's no human touch.
Art, at its core, is a conversation between maker and material. The moment that dialogue disappears, replaced by automation, we lose something ancient and irreplaceable. I heard someone say, "AI can be a brush, but it shouldn’t be the painter." That feels like a great way to express how I feel about it, I'd love to hear your thoughts too.
