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AI, art and the end of creativity? We’ve heard that before.
I am often asked what my opinion is on AI in the creative industry. My answer usually surprises people. I’m in favour of it. Not blindly. Not without caution. But with perspective as I’ve lived through multiple 'end of the industry' moments already. My career began in the late 1980s when I enrolled at the closest thing Perth, Western Australia had to Central Saint Martins: Perth Technical College, where I studied photography. The college, dating back to 1900, is located on St Georges Terrace in central Perth. By the time I arrived, most of the building was condemned and in desperate need of repair. You knew which corner of the room to avoid for fear of falling through the floorboards. 'Health and safety' was just the name of a local rock band. The charm, history, and character of the building weren’t enough to save it from demolition. The corporate-style move to purpose-built premises did not have the same allure. However, after years of debate, the college has finally been restored to its former glory. These were the days of 35mm film, darkroom enlargers, fixer and developer trays, manual light meters, salon stands and contact sheets. Photography was physical. Chemical. Slow. Expensive. You learnt patience before you learnt creativity.
After a few months, I switched to Graphic Design. Before I even completed my first year, I was offered a job at a small independent advertising agency. I never graduated from college. I learned my craft the old-fashioned way, hands-on, under pressure and in a commercial environment. I worked alongside some of Perth’s advertising industry creative heavyweights, including John Illian, Gordon Dawson and Steve Brown. This was the era of Pantone markers on bleed-proof paper, bromide cameras, typesetting, spray glues, Letraset sheets, Rotring technical pens, Agfa Repromaster and very long lunches. Later came work as an art director in professional photography studios, alongside medium-format film cameras, Polaroid test shoots, Broncolor Hazy lights and giant transparencies you handled like priceless artefacts.
The revolution started with a beige box
Then came the computers. The marker pens gave way to what initially felt like witchcraft: the Macintosh Classic, floppy disks, Iomega Zip drives, QuarkXPress, Dreamweaver and PageMaker. According to many people at the time, the creative industry was doomed. Designers panicked. Printers panicked. Photographers panicked. Entire departments disappeared overnight. There were redundancies, fear and complete chaos. The same headlines we see today around AI already existed in another form thirty years ago. But the industry didn’t die; it evolved, as it always does. The creatives who survived were not necessarily the most talented, but rather the most adaptable. Technology changed constantly, and you either kept up or disappeared into irrelevance. Creativity itself never vanished. It simply found new tools.
From negatives to 12 megapixels, the future has arrived
Then came digital photography. Once again, people declared the death of the craft. Suddenly, what previously took days in a darkroom could be achieved in hours or instantly. Film purists declared digital photography 'soulless.' Professionals insisted clients would never accept it.
Today, almost nobody questions digital photography. Ironically, some of those first 'revolutionary' digital cameras produced files so small and fragile that modern smartphones outperform them in almost every measurable way. Early professionals debated whether 6 or 12 megapixels could ever replace film, while today an iPhone in your pocket possesses more computing power than entire creative studios once did. What was once considered futuristic quickly became ordinary.
The same cycle is now happening with artificial intelligence. What interests me most is not the technology itself, but the predictability of human reaction to it. Every creative revolution begins with fear, resistance and declarations that “the craft is dead.” Then gradually the new tools become normal, invisible and eventually essential. Few people today romanticise waiting three days for processed transparencies or manually cutting film with scalpels in a studio. Convenience always wins. Efficiency always reshapes industries. Creativity simply adapts and moves forward.
I learnt my craft using what many younger creatives would now consider museum pieces, yet I’ve embraced AI because history keeps repeating itself. A social media content creator didn’t even exist twenty years ago. Now it’s a legitimate frontier career generating millions. Entire industries have emerged from technological disruption.
Yes, some jobs will disappear forever. That is the uncomfortable truth. But many new ones will emerge. The people who thrive will be those who learn how to direct AI, shape ideas, curate taste, build brands, and tell stories. AI can generate content, but it cannot replace human instinct, cultural understanding, emotional intelligence or lived experience. At least not in the way people fear.
''The camera did not kill painting.
Photoshop did not kill design.
Digital music did not kill musicians.
AI will not kill creativity."
If anything, AI may democratise creativity in ways we have never seen before. A teenager with imagination and a laptop now has tools that rival entire agencies from the 1990s. That is both terrifying and exciting. History shows us that the art world has always resisted change before eventually celebrating it. Impressionism was mocked as unfinished nonsense. The term itself was originally intended as an insult. The Royal Academy rejected artists who dared paint light and movement differently. Modernism caused outrage because it abandoned realism. Cubism was viewed as visual insanity.
When photographers first emerged, painters feared extinction. Even oil paint was controversial. The precious blue pigment ultramarine, made from lapis lazuli imported from Afghanistan, was worth more than gold during the Renaissance. Patrons judged artists by how much blue they could afford to use. Caravaggio caused scandal with 'Death of the Virgin' because he painted the Virgin Mary as an ordinary dead woman with swollen feet and human vulnerability. The church considered it vulgar and disrespectful. The Impressionists were rejected from official salons. The Surrealists were accused of corrupting morality. Marcel Duchamp exhibited a urinal as art and permanently changed the definition of creativity. Andy Warhol turned consumerism into fine art. Banksy shredded his own artwork immediately after it sold at auction for over £1 million, instantly increasing its value.
Creativity has always terrified gatekeepers
Art history is essentially a timeline of people being told, 'That’s not real art'—until eventually it is. Even the idea of women being allowed into major art academies was once considered scandalous. Creativity has always been shaped by gatekeepers terrified of losing control. AI is simply the newest chapter in that story. Of course, there are legitimate concerns. Copyright, authenticity, misinformation and ethical use all matter enormously. AI should not replace originality or exploit artists without consent. These conversations are important and necessary.
However, fear alone has never stopped technological progress. The creative industry has never been about protecting old tools. It has always been about ideas. A pencil was once new technology. So was the printing press.
So was photography.
So was the internet. AI is no different.
The acquisition of cumulative wealth
As much as I have embraced this new movement, I still see AI as a production tool, no different from Photoshop or InDesign. Anything that makes my life easier is a bonus, especially when combined with knowledge, experience, advice and a willingness to keep learning, whether the technologies are new or old. The resolution, speed and capabilities of AI now outperform most consumer cameras. It’s there, sitting in the ethernet. Use it. AI is part of the creative process now. Enjoy the process and enjoy the end product.
''I would not dine in a Gordon Ramsay restaurant and ask what brand of oven cooked my meal or which knife chopped the vegetables.''
The result is what matters. By the same token, would collectors refuse to buy a Damien Hirst artwork because his assistants probably produced most of it? Art has always involved collaboration, workshops, apprentices, technicians and evolving technologies. The myth of the lone creative genius is often exactly that—a myth.
Technologies, whether old or new, all have their own romance. I still have seller’s remorse about getting rid of my Sinar P2. It was cumbersome, painfully slow and completely impractical by modern standards, yet every second of using it felt deliberate and rewarding. Even now, I still enjoy sifting through charity shops and car boot sales searching for vintage props, while losing endless hours on eBay hunting for old film cameras and glass lenses simply for the tactile experience. Because despite embracing AI and modern technology, I still appreciate the beauty of analogue imperfection. The tools may change. The curiosity never does.
The creatives who embrace change will shape the future
The creatives who embrace it intelligently will shape the next era of design zeitgeist, culture, branding, fashion, filmmaking, advertising and art itself. The ones who refuse to evolve may eventually find themselves arguing against the future in the same way critics once argued against Impressionism, sculpture, photography and modern art. The world changes. Change with it on a journey of discovery.
''This is why I love and embrace AI. The future starts right here and now.''