Creative Direction in the Age of AI

I’ve been thinking a lot about AI art lately. As a creative, it’s hard not to. Everywhere I look, creative friends and colleagues are panicking, complaining, demonizing it.

My hot take? Deal with it. The genie’s out. There’s no going back.

I use it in my workflow. My 10-year-old uses it to create pro-looking images for his YouTube channel. Agency leads and business owners are tripping over themselves trying to figure out how to use it to cut costs.

AI is a tool. Like a brush or a pen. And like any tool, it can be used to create something transcendent or churn out pitiful, soulless monstrosities (enter: AI Slop). My job hasn’t changed. It’s still to use the tools available to create the most elevated, meaningful, on-target creative possible. There's a time and place for everything.

What actually fascinates me is how people are experiencing this shift. Like with smartphones, it’s becoming part of life. But this time, people seem to have a visceral emotional reaction to it. Why?

I think it boils down to the most uncool trait anyone can have: fakeness. Fake is worse than bad. We’ll take something bad but real over something good but fake. Everyone hates phonies.

That’s why AI art will never fully hit. We experience it as fake. As soulless. Unoriginal.

But let’s be real: human artists copy too. I learned to draw by tracing, imitating my favorite illustrators. I copied. And by doing that, I learned. So why is it suddenly evil when a machine does it?

Because humans are feeling machines. We create from impulse. From pain, joy, longing, obsession. Our work gets soaked in whatever we're going through in that moment. That’s what gives it soul. That’s what makes it alive.

Even when I copied, it never looked the same. Because I was a different person. A different lens. The human angle brings magic to a piece. It gives it a soul. That can’t be replicated by a machine. Not now. Not ever.

And sure, the printing press wiped out scribes. AI will do the same to run-of-the-mill creatives. That’s just the price of progress. But it won’t kill the human need for beauty, for connection, for soul.

In fact, I think craft is about to have a renaissance. When we’re all burnt out on soulless content, real artistry is going to hit harder than ever. So a lot of my friends are safe. And honestly, I can’t wait to stop wasting time on repetitive junk that can finally be automated.

So instead of raging at the robots, why not focus on the things they’ll never touch? Real-world experiences. Human connection. The kind of craft you have to be there to feel.

That’s the present. That’s the future.

My advice: Stop complaining and let's get busy doing.