Art has always been a conversation with its tools. The chisel, the brush, and the pen have shaped what is made as much as the artist does. Today, the dialogue has shifted. The tools are digital and often intangible. These tools extend our hands into the ether, reshaping the act and nature of creation.
AI, for one, has turned the artist into a collaborator with the machine. In my artwork, I use AI to learn about new styles, how to blend colors, and analyze my compositions. I’ve also made AI create something after I supply the initial butterfly effect of brushstrokes. Sometimes, I am stunned by what has been created. I feel guilty. Can I say I did that when AI did most of the work?
There’s also augmented reality (AR), where art spills beyond the frame. Paintings no longer hang on the wall but hover, shift and
grow as you move around it. It occupies space in your mind as you interact with the piece that no museum would allow you to do. Virtual reality (VR) takes AR even further, building entire worlds from the artist’s portrait. Imagine stepping into “Starry Night” or “A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte.”
Traditional practices—oil painting and charcoal sketches—might be raptured into the interactive, finding new life there. A digital sculptor might one day use VR controllers to carve virtual clay, while AI assists in rendering hyper-realistic textures. At some
point, disturbing questions must be answered: what if art no longer requires artists anymore?
I wonder if, within a generation, the human hand becomes obsolete. There will be devices that will achieve accuracy and control that exceed any artist’s skill. What then happens to the nature of art? Does it still tell a story? Does it still leave a trace? Or does art become the latest testament to our increasing irrelevance?
