Artificial Intelligence: It’s amazing, but we are not amazed

We’ve been here for a long time. As humans, we’ve painted caves, told stories, carved statues, and yes — built machines. Nothing around us is unnatural. Every screen flicker, every algorithm, every line of code is part of a continuous thread that begins with fire and ends (for now) with artificial intelligence. So let’s drop the dramatics: this isn’t “against nature.” This is nature. It’s us.

But something has shifted. In the past few years, we’ve started to lose the thread. Not because we’re incapable of understanding the tech we’ve built, but because we’re struggling to feel anything about it. We’re standing in awe-inspiring rooms, surrounded by masterpieces that were made in seconds — and we’re yawning. Why?

Because the machine makes things, but not journeys.

The death of “cut!”

Creativity has always been a human superpower. Whether you’re a copywriter, a painter, a director, or just someone who doodles in the margins of a notebook, you’ve felt that buzz — the slow climb toward something that didn’t exist before. It’s not about the final image. It’s about the moment before the brush touches the canvas. The moment someone yells “Cut!” and the scene is alive. The feeling that you’re in it.

AI, in its current form, skips that part.

It delivers results. Stunning ones. But those results come stripped of heritage, divorced from the process. There are no late nights, no failed takes, no lucky accidents. The music hits, but nobody was there tuning the guitar. It’s all climax, no buildup. And even the most talented creatives are finding themselves numb. Not because the work is bad — but because it’s too good, too fast, and too soulless.

And when the creator is numb, the client loses interest too. The joy leaks out of the room. Everyone becomes a chooser, not a maker.

A filming crew on the dark set with light-up background

Fewer options, better taste

So, how do we stay creative in a world that moves faster than we can feel?

We stop running.

We touch some grass — and by that, I mean old technology, old films, old limitations. We go back to the days where a choice meant something. When having 13 songs on a CD meant you’d listen to each of them ten times. When you learned an album, not just shuffled through it. You didn’t swipe — you committed.

That’s the kind of mindset we need to rediscover.

Because creativity isn’t about having endless options. It’s about navigating scarcity. When you have everything, you stop wanting anything. When you limit yourself — by choice or by circumstance — your brain starts doing what it was built for: imagining, connecting, building meaning.

A creative who ties one hand behind their back will often do better work than one with infinite resources. Because now there’s tension. There’s urgency. There’s a reason to create.

Make it rare again

If we want to survive — no, thrive — in this new world, we don’t need to fight AI. We need to make peace with it. Use it. Play with it. Let it support us. But we also need to make time to miss the process. To reintroduce friction into our workflows. To limit ourselves on purpose. Choose 3 references instead of 300. Make one concept board. Burn the moodboards after the pitch.

Because what’s amazing is not the result, but the road we take to get there. And right now, that road is being bulldozed by optimization.

Let’s rebuild it. One CD at a time.

*This article was thought of and written by a human – but checked by an AI (just as it should be)