Why I Use AI Art (and When)
Nails, Blacksmiths, and Ancient Swine
I am a carpenter. I need nails. Nails get hammered down anyway, so there is a limit to the level of craftsmanship that can go into nails beyond steadfast reliability. You’re more concerned that the nail doesn’t melt under the forceful blow of the hammer than the intricate pattern of the nail’s head that may well be warped by the pummelling of the hammer anyway. So, I’ll need a blacksmith. Now, this blacksmith could be an accomplished swordsmith, and capable of smithing well-above-average aesthetic goods. However, I would not seek out the King’s Swordsmith to craft for myself, a lowly carpenter, some nails to mend my broken cart from which I ply my trade.
If I was somehow blessed with a request for a sword of the finest quality for the greatest warrior in the land, I’d do everything I could to ensure the hilt core was made with the finest wood and treated to last centuries. Then, I would be faced with a choice; the blacksmith that made me my nails, and can make a fine enough sword, or the King’s Swordsmith. Of course, it would be the King’s Swordsmith.
In this laboured analogy, AI is the blacksmith, AI images for casual Substack articles are the nails. The King’s Swordsmith is the artist - irreplaceable, yet such skill and reputation are rare, perhaps increasingly so. A true master of the craft, and able to forge the mightiest portfolio of art for a great novel. At no point will the AI blacksmith be able to compare, as once realised as AI, the magic and the mystery and the majesty evaporates like mist under the noon sun.
Of course, the King’s Swordsmith can make nails, and probably in large numbers at a high rate. But while there is utility in this, they’d have to make a lot of nails to compare to the income of a single master-crafted blade. Which admittedly, may not be a regular and reliable income stream, so they may need to supplement with blade and plate for the guard, and horseshoes for the household cavalry. But I digress. The price for that one blade will be many times greater than the price for the equivalent number of nails that metal could have formed. There is an inescapable value calculation in resources and outputs that are in a complex reciprocal relationship with demand. And sometimes, or at least until the power goes out and we get hard-reset back to an earlier save sometime in the 1700s at best, mass demand for hand-crafted nails ceases to exist.
I’m sorry to say the path of the artist is hard one. It sucks. Especially if that’s your passion, and your skill, your ‘art’ perhaps. Now that nails can be churned out by machine press at an eyewatering rate, outside of the re-enactment and historical sectors, you’re going to struggle to make a living competing with the industrial nail production complex. An artist is now not only competing against other artists, which is challenging enough in of itself. An artist now competes against the equivalent of the industrial nail production complex in the form of AI. So the already uphill struggle has become all-but vertical. However, as fate would have it there seems to be a growing market for swords, especially those suitable for (competitive) re-enactment. Metal that won’t melt under the hammer blows of an opponent. All the more glorious for if you can make a sword strong enough to withstand hundreds of hours of punishment while maintaining the majesty of a blade fit for a King. For the glory of each and every martial victory goes not only to the man wielding that blade - but also to the artist that forged it in the first place, for without it, for even with a lesser blade, the hero may have been laid low long ago. There will always be a market for truly authentic skill - although with the caveat that the size of that market may ebb and flow with the passing of time.
If I want a bag of nails for putting up some shelves, I’m getting a cheap and reliable mass-produced box. I care more about what I’m putting on the shelf rather than the unseen material fixings that serve a functional illustrative purpose swiftly and cheaply. If I’m transforming my suburban garden into a replica early Medieval peasant’s garden (resplendent with era-appropriate produce and, if lucky, an ancient breed of pig), I’ll request some nails from the local re-enactment blacksmith, and pay the appropriate price. If - and hopefully when - I’m able to publish a novel on physical paper with real ink, I’ll be getting the King’s Swordsmith to forge the cover art for what I’d hope would be a masterpiece worthy of a master-crafted sword.
