Creative Exploration in a Modern World
A wash of cold ran across my body as I stared blankly at the screen of my laptop. It was confirmation of my fears, whispers of an automated giant capable of destroying not only my industry but countless others, while also impacting the environment and human thought processes as well. And so there it was, the answer I had been searching for revealed itself as a man dressed in a polo shirt, designer glasses, and a shitty haircut, and I heard him say, “Illustration, as we know it, will be extinct within 10 to 15 years.”
I did what any self-righteous, passionate creative would do: I went to my room, shut the door, and cried. A lot. I thought, How could this be? Illustration has been such a huge part of my identity, not to mention our history; what am I going to do? The man’s words pierced my ears again, pesky little asshole. Sure, I could continue my journey in the world of traditional fine art. After all, I love fine art, and having my art hanging on a gallery wall has been one of my finest accomplishments. But something nagged. Like a gnat flying around my head, dodging swats and buzzing in my ears. A quote from a long-time friend, Mr. Fred Rogers, entered my mind: “Look for the helpers”. And so I did. I went to one of my most cherished spaces, in front of a dusty bookshelf. This shelf contains more wisdom than all of YouTube and social media influencers combined: the children’s book section at my local library. Specifically, the golden age classics, my favorite. There, on the floor, with the smell of old books and dog-eared pages, I marveled at story and history as art through legends like E. H. Shepard, Beatrix Potter, and Sir John Tenniel. Here, with Winnie the Pooh and Peter Rabbit, and the moral words of Hans Christian Andersen, I spiraled down a rabbit hole of questions; Had it not been for these pages I hold in my hands, would I be the person I am today? Would any of us be? And what are my irreplaceable qualities as an illustrator that AI lacks? I felt a pull, hinting that the keys were human emotion and connection. I followed what brought me joy, dabbling in new ways of sketching and trying different mediums. I wanted you, the viewer, to see my human messiness, my unapologetic pencil lines, and what thousands of practiced hours look like. And, for the sake of fair experimentation, I explored AI too. I found that while it excels at getting mud out of suede shoes and simplifying legal contracts, when it comes to creativity, it falls flat. It’s like getting a gift card for your birthday; while convenient, it’s impersonal.
Dear reader, these illustrations on the walls accompany a book I’ve been writing for the last two years, stories born from lived human experience, something AI is incapable of feeling.
It’s true, we are walking among giants, and perhaps I can ethically have them assist me with my household tasks and research. But when it comes to creativity, I choose to march with the dancers, singers, energy workers, writers, musicians, movers and shakers because goddammit, it feels good.
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