The Return of Craft in a World of AI Design

The Return of Craft in a World of AI Design

There’s a production studio in Hillsboro, Oregon called Laika. They specialize in stop motion animation. They produced the benchmark-setting Coraline in 2009, redefining what a stop motion movie can achieve. For their production Kubo and the Two Strings, they released time-lapse videos of the grueling two-day-long process of shooting a few seconds worth of a sword fight on a pirate ship. If you’ve never seen it, you should do yourself a favor and watch the 3-minute clip. Recently I saw an advertisement for their upcoming film “Wildwood”. I don’t think it’s by accident that they’re releasing a film at the peak of AI creative skepticism. The trailer made a point to say that the film is “crafted by the hands that created Coraline.” This is a trend we’re seeing gain momentum: human creative as a trust signal. 

I think anyone who doesn’t have their head buried in the amber colored, uncannily perfect sand can sense a growing backlash to AI creative, even as it becomes increasingly ubiquitous. Even on LinkedIn, the most AI-boosting social platform on the internet, the trending posts are skeptical and often critical of AI creative. Major brands like LEGO, Dove, and Polaroid are using a pledge to not use AI images in marketing as a trust signifier. Cadbury went so far as to launch a campaign titled M.A.M.A or “Make AI Mediocre Again.” This campaign was a direct attack on the runaway acceleration of hustle culture that seems to be riding shotgun with the advancement of AI technology.

On the ground, I know very few designers who are not using AI in some way in their workflows. Everyone integrates it in different ways, from aiding in selecting color palettes to developing placeholder images until the photoshoot wraps to quickly producing functional prototypes. But a new part of the conversation is growing: “How do we defeat the slop?” This feels reminiscent of the conversation during the early days of desktop publishing when suddenly anyone could produce a relatively well-ordered design. In those days, the amount of poorly designed workplace announcements and flyers for local events grew exponentially. Anyone who was around at the time remembers rainbow fonts with terrible drop shadows, and goofy clip art proclaiming the latest communication from the HR department. It was at this time that designers like David Carson began producing Ray Gun magazine, creating an aesthetic that was completely unique at the time and impossible to create with desktop publishing tools alone. We’re seeing a return to this neo-punk aesthetic and design everywhere. Things are suddenly becoming textured, imperfect, and handmade. Ad campaigns like this one  by the Green Bay Packers feature behind-the-scenes montages of the human work that goes into the creation of the commercial as well as a pretty pointed headline: “Your AI slop bores us.” This doesn’t feel like an out-and-out rejection of the technology; it feels like a critique of using the new technology in a way that makes the aesthetic suffer. 

The notion that AI should be used as a crude implement to amputate design departments in the name of efficiency and profitability has already proven to be false. For the last two years, the threat has been “as AI improves, no one will be able to tell it’s AI.” The conventional wisdom would have people believe that that would lead to the widespread adoption of AI. What they missed is that it has led to a widespread distrust by the public in a lot of creative. When the US Post Office released its Betty White forever stamp, there was an initial reaction online to what a lot of people thought was an AI image. Luckily, it drew a lot of attention to the digital painter who created the piece and some of the hidden symbolism in it. This example proves that the public is on high alert. They’re looking for something that makes creative feel like there was intentional human decision-making in the process. No one is saying AI is going anywhere. We’re calling for responsible use of it in a way that enhances our creativity. Three decades ago, digital design tools allowed us to put down our Xacto knives and thus imagine typography in a way that was previously impossible. Digital editing software freed photographers from hours in the darkroom and created images with more layers than were ever possible with an enlarger and film.

The material point is this: Ignore the doom. Some of the dialog seems to suggest that seasoned designers should leave the field, and young designers should find another profession. But doing that would produce exactly what the doomsayers are predicting, lifeless creative that never pushes boundaries or advances past the current aesthetic. We must do as we have always done: wrestle with the change and advocate for the value of human creativity.

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