Why AI Will Never Replace Human-Created Art

In a world where everything from information to art and literature is little more than a prompt away, one begins to wonder if there's a place for human creativity. Does true creativity still exist? Does it matter?

Those are scary thoughts for a writer married to an artist. Creativity is our bread and butter. If the answer is no, we don't get to eat.

Thankfully, I think the answer is yes. True creativity does still exist, and yes, it matters.

In fact, I'd go so far as to say that in a world full of the instant and the synthetic, it matters even more.

There are certain aspects of creative expression that AI just doesn't have.

Sure, AI can create an image, but it can't create what goes into it.

For example. I asked Google Gemini to create an abstract painting in the style of Carl Parker.

There it is. Not bad. But that texture you see, you'll never feel it because you can't touch the peaks and ridges of the paint on the canvas. You can't feel the endless hours of building, layer upon layer of paint to create those peaks and ridges. There's nothing to touch. No canvas, just code.

Those brush strokes? There's no emotion behind them. No mood. Nothing, just a manufactured approximation of a palette knife cutting through acrylics.

More than that, it's too perfect, and not in a good way.

There are no happy human accidents. There are none of those unintended but absolutely amazing nuggets that make a piece speak to each viewer in a slightly different way.

For example, in Dontown, the painting I used as a cover photo, I discovered a fascinating presence.

Do you see the woman, dressed in what appears to be early 20th-century clothes? I circled her. The artist didn't intend for her to be there. She just happened as a result of the brushstrokes, shading, lines and lighting that went into the work.

I call her Mabel, and as soon as I saw her, my imagination sprang to life! I created a whole story about her. Who she is. What she's like. Why she happens to be in this painting.

She reminds me of my great-grandmother.

I never met the woman. She died long before I was born. However, looking at her photo, I can imagine what she was like. I see her as a dignified, slightly sharp-tongued woman who didn't suffer gladly. She didn't go in for foolishness, nor was she impressed by "new-fangled" things.

Although her name was Jessie, in my story and in this painting, she's Mabel.

No, I don't think my great-grandmother appeared to me in the painting. Not in a literal sense. But that's the thing with art, each person sees what's meaningful to them.

I see a woman reminiscent of my great-grandmother. Someone else may see a former teacher, an aunt, an old lady from the neighbourhood, or maybe not even a woman at all.

We often respond to artistic expression because of the emotion that went into it. Emotion begets emotion. The soft, loving brushstrokes around a lighthouse may remind you of childhood summers at the seaside. A passage in a book, describing the physical manifestation of a feeling may get to you because you've been there and felt it before.

THAT'S where AI-generated art falls short. It doesn't stir any emotion in the viewer. It doesn't bring the imagination to life. How can it? No emotion or imagination went into it.

That's the thing with AI-generated art: you can look, but you can't touch. More importantly, it can't touch you. Not where it matters, in the heart.