From the very first time a cave dweller drew in red clay on the wall of his cave, from Gilgamesh to Guernica, from Homer to H.G. Wells, human beings have created art. Art in all kinds of media, from carved bone flutes to Beethoven’s 5th ; from runic poems to Shakespeare, to science-fiction, to comic books. Why do we do it? For amusement? Of course, but too many people have suffered for their art for simple entertainment to be the principal driving force. Art is sometimes dangerous. Art can be subversive. Art can be healing, courageous, heartfelt. Most of all, art is human: a means of communication; of sharing our lived experience; our vision of a better world; an expression of all aspects of our individuality.
In the earliest days of art, art was instinctive; spontaneous. There were no patrons, no public; just the desire to leave a mark, to say to fellow travellers: I MADE THIS. I WAS HERE. But as society has advanced, some artists have recognised the possibility of making money from art. Thanks to patrons and publishers, art became a living – albeit an uncertain one – at least for some favoured individuals. And now it is an industry, generating billions for our economy in books, films, audio, TV and many other media.
But like so many industries, the wealth generated by business doesn’t often reach the creators. This in itself is nothing new. The trope of the starving artist dates back many centuries. We like it: it’s romantic, at least from a safe distance. We like the idea that making art sometimes requires a sacrifice. Even now, few creators make a living from their work. In an industry that generates billions, the average professional author earns less than £7000 a year. Art for art’s sake is a concept that doesn’t take household bills into account. But then the goal of capitalism has never been to share its wealth. And a business based on profit doesn’t like what’s unpredictable.
Because here’s the thing. Art is unpredictable: It’s messy, provocative, dangerous. It’s not always easy to understand; it’s almost impossible to control. Most of all, it’s human, with all the diversity that implies. Which is why the tech industry has created gen-AI: a tool that is not only predictable by definition, but actually designed to replace those messy human creators in the most exploitative way: by taking their work – often without the artist’s consent – and homogenising it into AI slop, then claiming the end product as its own, much as a meat-reclaiming machine makes slop out of lips and arseholes, thence to be nicely repackaged and sold to the public as sausages.
We’ve all seen the results. The fruit-headed AI cartoon characters, the articles, the terrible books, the images of Trump as Jesus. Mediocre work at best, but even if it was better – and it will get better if companies continue to train it on authentic human work – it’s still just a simulation of life, a parody of what art means.
Its supporters say it’s just a tool. That, like the printing press, like the word processor, like the record player, it’s a sign of progress. But while those things were tools that helped democratize literacy, make art and music more widely available to the public, AI is a tool of oppression, which takes work away from creators and reclaims it as its own. There’s nothing creative about AI. It doesn’t imagine better. All it can do – by definition – is serve you more of those sausages. Nor is there any intelligence. It’s just a predictive algorithm, designed to select the next most likely piece of code – and the next – without any purpose or feeling. AI tells us what we want to hear, want to see, want to believe: in this case that it can create art without any of the work, or sacrifice, or life experience that an artist brings to the table – and of course, that it will make lots of money for all of us.
And yes, it is killing the artist. It’s doing it in a number of ways. First, it’s killing diversity and the individual voice. The voices from other cultures, other life experiences, other social classes. Those voices that tried so hard to be heard are being erased by a programme trained largely on the voices of a white, moneyed, privileged majority. In this, as in so many things, AI is the enemy of progress.
But that isn’t the only thing at risk from gen-AI. It’s killing creativity too, by perpetuating the idea that all anyone needs to make art is not imagination, or ability, but the right series of commands. It’s killing originality by homogenising the concept of art, by rewarding mediocrity – all in the name of profit. And it’s killing the profession: in fact, it’s killing the very concept of the professional artist. Already, too many jobs in my business are being outsourced to gen-AI: illustrators, editors, children’s writers, jacket designers, audiobook narrators, copy editors, proofreaders, translators. People in my industry are already paid little enough: soon only the most privileged will be able to afford to stay there. In the same way that artificial lawns kill not only real grass, but the ecosystem around it, AI is killing not just artists, but also those who consume art, and those who make their living from it: killing them creatively, financially, and even literally, as its guzzling data centres accelerate the heat death of the planet.
Where does that leave us?
The human brain is impressively, almost infinitely adaptable. It adapts very well to challenge, but can also very quickly lose its neuroplastcity. It has already been noted that the regular use of AI inhibits brain function – especially in teenage brains – as much as alcohol abuse. Which means that very soon we’re going to find it hard to tell the difference between AI and the real thing. So if gen-AI becomes the norm, we’ll lower our standards, and settle for less, and tell ourselves that it was always this way. Because evolution has taught us this: what we don’t use gets taken away. That includes our aptitude for critical thought: our ability to create, to imagine outside our experience; to imagine a better world, to challenge – to change – our society. AI isn’t progress. It is the enemy of progress. It is everything that’s predictable, commonplace; mindless; mediocre. That’s why gen-AI’s greatest threat is to the very concept of art. By erasing its humanity, its purpose, its power to move us, it changes art from a thing that builds dreams into a thing that makes money.
So, if you want to imagine better, if you want to keep on imagining better, then do it now, while you still can. Do it yourself, with your human brain, imagination and agency. Only human intelligence can save us from a future where art gives way to profit; a future without dissenting voices, without intellectual challenge, without the diversity, the invention and the emotional connection that genuine, human-made art provides. Imagine that future, while you still can; then imagine better. Fight for human-created art; messy, diverse, unpredictable art. Fight for imperfection, for honest, joyous, spontaneous art. Do it now, because if we don’t, all our future will serve us is a diet of lips and arseholes.