The Flood of A.I.-Generated Images Will Make Human-Made Art More Precious, Not Less
As a full-time painter and educator, I can say with certainty that technology has completely changed the art world. I am passionate about it and use it every day in my practice. Not only to paint—today, artists like myself also use it to teach students from all over the world and make art more accessible. I welcome tech as a tool for efficiency, connectivity and education. Some artists have even built their entire creative careers using digital tools and platforms. Technology is allowing creativity to be transferred in powerful and exciting ways. But there is a major issue that comes with that: A.I.
Using technology to create and share art is not the same as replacing artistic creation with technological creation; something essential is lost when the creative process itself disappears. But as A.I.-generated content becomes more common online, I believe there will be a moment when we see a shift in the opposite direction: people, tired of being overwhelmed with artificial images, moving back toward authentic handmade creation. Humans connecting with the people and emotions behind the art.
Digital art versus A.I. images: a distinction worth making
Some people outside the art world still believe that digital painting and A.I. image generation are the same thing. I find myself explaining that digital art is not made with the press of a button. They understand both happen on a screen, both use software and both produce digital images, so they must be the same. But for artists, the creative process is at the root of the distinction. And I agree that through the history of art, there have been points where new technological tools have threatened artists. But this is different. This is the first time we are completely skipping over the human part of creation.
Just as photography has its creative process, digital painting is still a form of painting. The artist is still finding inspiration, making sketches, experimenting through trial and error, interpreting references, adjusting composition… all the things that, in summary, bring ideas to life. The tools—e.g., the tablet and stylus—are simply another canvas and brush, but the magic of the making is the same.
A.I. is another tool, but image generators create images using a database of (stolen) artistic output. The system generates results by processing large datasets of existing images and patterns available online. The user can guide the prompts, but the machine does the visual interpretation and execution. This difference matters because artistic growth comes not only from having an idea but also from the execution. It comes from learning how to translate that thought into something meaningful through skill and personal interpretation. Consider Bob Ross’ “happy accidents;” experimentation is the root of creation.
No prompt can replace the artist’s journey
Digital tools support the artist’s hand. A.I. attempts to replace it. In digital painting, the medium may differ from traditional painting, but the knowledge required to create a work of art remains the same (and sometimes there’s an even bigger learning curve to use complex software). A skilled digital painter still needs to understand anatomy, perspective, composition, color theory and visual storytelling. They still spend years training their eyes and hands to communicate what they see and feel. Painters innately understand how the experience of struggling and failing leads to artistic growth. Those moments are opportunities for growth and improvement to develop artistic identity and skill.
Making art has always required time and patience, and younger artists should be encouraged to value this. The fundamentals of color, composition, etc., take years to master—and that’s on top of understanding the history of art. When emerging artists are led to believe they can avoid the foundations entirely and create images in the blink of an eye, they may never experience creative confidence or the reward of developing a craft.
A.I. takes away the struggle; instead of interpreting the world, a prompter simply curates outputs. In art spaces, new learners who turn toward A.I. lose opportunities for experimentation. We live in a fast world that demands immediate results. Attention spans grow shorter and shorter. And with that, some potential artists won’t consider training for years when they can achieve what feels like instant gratification with the press of a button.
This is not about elitism or gatekeeping. It is about collective growth and about humankind. This is why we study and honor the Masters in the first place. The more deeply artists understand their journey and learn through trial and error, the more clearly they can express their ideas. We should not take for granted hundreds of years of history.
And, on the technical side, things get less and less colorful with A.I. when you understand how these systems are trained. Artists’ works are added to training databases without consent, compensation or acknowledgment. Years spent developing a personal style become the raw material for systems that can imitate it in seconds. Artists can’t complain, because when they accepted the risks of sharing online, A.I. hadn’t been invented (or at least wasn’t the hungry monster it has become today). We are still waiting for laws and regulations; when they finally get passed, it will likely be too late.
For working artists, the issues surrounding A.I. and ownership are not simply part of a philosophical debate about technology. It’s about labor, authorship and respect for creative work. (And let’s not bring the environmental cost to the plate. We already have enough.)
What A.I. can’t replicate is what makes art matter
Ironically, the fast rise and widespread use of A.I. will, I believe, make human-made art more valuable than ever. Even now, there are many social media trends encouraging artists to share their processes, and even themselves on the job, not just their art. (Let’s face it, we are becoming less proficient at spotting what’s A.I. and what isn’t.)
We are currently living through a period in which most of us are surrounded by constant streams of generated images and content. Hopefully, as our feeds become oversaturated with A.I. imagery, more and more people will crave human-made art—work that might be imperfect but has emotion behind it that lets the viewer connect with the artist.
Art and craft have always been valuable in part because they were so human and tapped into shared struggles and emotions, not simply because they were nice to look at. Why do you think people still pay to see Michelangelo’s half-carved Slaves? These non-finito sculptures look like they are trying to escape from the rock, powerful representations of struggle and suffering. Artificial intelligence will never create anything as moving, and as A.I.-generated content overloads the internet, people will look for art that feels unmistakably human. We are moving toward a future where authentic human creation will matter more, not less.
The future of art won’t be about what images we can generate. Art will always be about what humans choose to create for other humans. Strauss Zelnick, the CEO of Take-Two Interactive (the company behind GTA), admitted that A.I. has its uses during a podcast with David Senra, but was also quick to point out that “datasets by their very nature are backward looking, creativity by its very nature is forward looking.” And he’s right. Ultimately, A.I. doesn’t create art; it creates, as Zelnick put it, “derivative property.”
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