Over the past month and a half, a lot has happened. A new AI model was released, and soon after, a wave of Ghibli-style illustrations flooded the internet. But the first question that came to my mind wasn’t one of value — it was: Is it still worth learning and doing art at all?
Here we are, faced with a machine that, with the right direction, can produce results better than most artists. So is there still meaning in expression and striving to improve? I’ll try to unravel this complicated question from three very generalized perspectives.
Art and Design as an Industry
It’s incredible. Creating brands, campaigns, illustrations, writing books, concepts — anything creative — has never been easier. You don’t need extra hands to get things done, and you’ll need even fewer in the near future. This is a golden age of creation. We’re closer than ever to building immersive worlds and stories straight from our imagination.
But if that’s true, why aren’t we creating those beautiful stories that come from our subconscious? Where is the real uniqueness hiding?
Creativity is a process. And even with all the AI tools in the world, it’s still hard to write something good or create visuals that are truly interesting. The Ghibli-style trend is a great example: same visuals, same ideas, all floating on the surface — but no depth. It’s driven by attention, not introspection. There’s nothing that makes you stop and look twice.
This leads me to a realization: creativity is a process of mastery. When we master our tools, find our language, and reach for unique expression, we can begin to express ourselves on a subconscious level.
We all tap into the same collective subconscious, but we choose different expressions to channel it. For some, it might be reading or writing — designing thoughtful narratives or exploring function over emotion. Others may explore through pure logic or mindless repetition. What matters is knowing how you explore creativity, and why.
For me, I explore creativity through an existentialist lens. Sounds fancy and serious, but my work often feels punchy and poetic — like a haiku. Simple, but deep.
Discovery Over Consumption
As we pursue mastery, we also rediscover art. Today we’re surrounded by art and entertainment — but when was the last time we truly searched for meaning? When did we last indulge in the process of discovery?
Meaningful art can’t be marketed to you. It’s not like design or advertising — it can’t be shoved in your face. It must be discovered. That’s where meaning and intelligence live. Even if your search ends in disappointment, the act of searching brings its own kind of reward. And when you do find something that resonates, the experience is powerful.
The same goes for AI art. Some of it genuinely fascinates me. You can sense depth — a subconscious quality that feels like mastery of the tool. It’s more than a prompt. And I believe this will be the future: creating results will be easy, accessible to anyone. But expressing yourself — truly expressing — will be harder than ever. That gap will keep growing.
Eventually, no matter the tool, every creative journey returns to mastery. Some things will come naturally. Others will demand deep learning, trial and error, and intellectual effort.
The Conflict Within
This is the hardest part to admit — especially as a senior creative. With everything happening in the industry, I’ve found myself asking: Is it still worth it? Does anyone care? Is there meaning in what I do? Am I good enough? Should I pivot into business or leave creativity behind?
But in my opinion, this inner conflict is the cornerstone of creativity.
As C.G. Jung wrote:
“The artist’s life cannot be otherwise than full of conflicts, for two forces are at war within him; on the one hand, the common human longing for happiness, satisfaction and security in life, and on the other, a ruthless passion for creation which may go so far as to override every personal desire… there are hardly any exceptions to the rule that a person must pay dearly for the divine gift of creative fire.”
If you’re feeling that conflict right now — if it feels heavy, uncertain, painful — then I want to say this: it is worth creating. Maybe now more than ever.