I still remember the initial shock and excitement I felt when I first used ChatGPT. It has since become a vital tool that helps me manage my time with incredible efficiency. However, when AI first entered the scene—showcasing its ability to generate stunning images—my reaction wasn't entirely welcoming. I believe many shared this sentiment.

The Artist’s Struggle with Automation

As a creator, I found myself rapidly losing interest in digital art. It was disheartening to see AI instantaneously produce high-quality images that surpassed works humans spent years mastering techniques to create. For those in the digital art industry, the fear is real. I sincerely hope these tools remain instruments that make life more convenient, rather than weapons that devalue human labor and displace jobs.

Yet, the world is changing at a breakneck pace. There is no denying the convenience AI brings. We are approaching a day when everything made by human hands might be labeled "imperfect" or "inefficient." As an artist, this reality forces me to reflect deeply on how I should approach my work in the future.

AI as a Personal Assistant

Despite the existential questions it raises, AI excels at resolving life's friction points. It is exceptional at drafting, summarizing, and organizing documents. In a business context, receiving help to write formal documents and clarify communication is a massive advantage. I also use it to identify scams, manage budgets, and plan projects.

When I’m overwhelmed, AI helps me simplify my thoughts and provides clear solutions. Because of this value, I transitioned from the free version to a paid subscription. Using the paid version feels like having a dedicated professional secretary; while the free version is a great trial, the "sincerity" and depth of the paid service are much more apparent.

Gemini vs. ChatGPT: A Friendly Comparison

Through my experience, I’ve noticed distinct differences between Gemini and ChatGPT. To me, Gemini feels much more approachable. If ChatGPT is like a formal receptionist in a towering corporate building, Gemini is like a kind neighbor or a friend who answers your questions with genuine care.

While ChatGPT can sometimes be overly wordy—requiring me to frequently ask it to be "short and clear"—Gemini tends to provide exactly what is needed, which significantly reduces mental fatigue. Furthermore, I've found Gemini’s error rate to be lower. ChatGPT often changes its stance or information mid-conversation, making it difficult to trust completely.

Why the Creative Spark Remains Human

Ultimately, these AI tools are mere supporters. The key is to choose the one that fits your taste and use it wisely. As an artist, I do not believe AI will replace me anytime soon. After using these tools for a long time, I began to feel a certain "boredom" with their output.

"True creation knows no boredom. It is fresh, exciting, different, and rhythmic every single day."
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I don’t believe AI can replicate that joyful, creative energy day after day. In fact, as AI-generated images become more common, I suspect there will be a growing preference for art that is "home-cooked," warm, new, and deep—the kind of beauty that only a human spirit can manifest.

​When encountering the works of David Hockney, the concept of "landscape"—as we have long understood it—begins to subtly waver. While familiar subjects such as trees, paths, and forests remain intact, the colors, rhythms, and spatial dimensions contained within them resonate with us in an entirely different manner. Rather than merely reproducing nature exactly as it appears, Hockney reconstructs it through the lens of his own sensations and perspective. Consequently, his forests appear more vivid and warmer than reality, at times unfolding like a dreamscape.

Hockney’s works often evoke comparisons to those of Van Gogh. While they share similarities in their intense use of color and deep affection for nature, Hockney’s canvases possess a far simpler and more lucid structure. Trees repeat like patterns, while paths cut across the composition, generating a distinct rhythm. This compositional approach transcends the creation of mere aesthetically pleasing images; instead, it compels us to reconsider the very way in which we perceive space.

Furthermore, Hockney does not confine himself to traditional painting; he actively embraces digital media, such as iPad drawing. By observing nature—swiftly capturing the light and atmosphere of a fleeting moment—he is forging a new genre of landscape art for the modern era. Ultimately, his body of work leads to a single, overarching question: Are we truly seeing the world as it is? Hockney’s paintings quietly pose this inquiry, prompting us to rediscover the beauty that we may have overlooked amidst the familiarity of our daily lives.

​Thus, we find ourselves confronted with this question: In an era where technology is becoming increasingly sophisticated—and where artificial intelligence can generate images faster and more flawlessly than ever before—does human painting still hold any significance?

David Hockney’s work offers a clear direction in response to this inquiry. Even at the age of eighty-plus, he embraced a new tool—the iPad—and fundamentally transformed a significant portion of his artistic practice. While the tools may have changed, his perspective and the questions he asks remain unaltered. The forests and paths he depicts are not merely simple images; rather, they are the layered accumulation of the time, atmosphere, and lived experiences he perceived in that very moment.

In fact, from a purely technical standpoint, his paintings could conceivably be replicated by artificial intelligence—perhaps even rendered with greater precision. However, the true distinction lies not in the result, but in the process. While artificial intelligence *generates* images based on vast datasets, humans *experience* images through the lens of their own lives and express them based on those lived experiences.

This is precisely what makes Hockney’s paintings so extraordinary. He does not merely replicate nature; instead, he poses the question—"What am I seeing right now?"—every single day, and unravels his answer through his art. This inquiry is not a one-time event; rather, it resembles a form of daily meditation—a question that is renewed and repeated anew each day.

Artificial intelligence can produce images that closely approximate the "correct" answer, yet it cannot formulate questions of its own accord. Human painting, conversely—however imperfect it may be—contains within it questions, traces of the artist, and the living passage of time. Consequently, we find ourselves resonating more deeply with a painting not because of how "well" it was executed, but because of *what* the artist observed and *how* they felt.

Ultimately, the enduring significance of human painting stems not from its technical perfection, but from the perspective and questions embedded within it. And it is precisely for this reason that we continue to pause before human paintings—to gaze upon them, and to reflect.

Students create an infinity mirror using paper plates, mirrors, and small LED lights.
The reflections between two mirrors create the illusion of endless light and space.
This project blends art, creativity, and the science of light.

You can find the materials list and step-by-step instructions for this project on my blog.
The post explains how to build the infinity mirror using simple materials such as paper plates, reflective mirrors, and small LED lights.
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For a more detailed guide, please visit: https://www.annakoh.com/blog/paper-plate-infinity-image-art-project

This Infinity Image Art Project uses simple materials such as paper plates, reflective mirrors, and small LED lights.
Students decorate the plate with their own drawings, patterns, and imaginative scenes.
Two mirrors are placed facing each other with a light between them to create a repeating reflection.
This reflection produces the illusion of an endless tunnel of light, known as the “infinite mirror” effect.
The project combines art and science, helping students explore creativity while learning about light and reflection.

​This year, while preparing for our Christmas card project, I wanted to introduce something more than a traditional art activity. I wanted students to experience the joy of combining creativity with scientific discovery. That idea led me to a simple yet powerful tool: LED circuit stickers, conductive tape, and a coin battery. With these materials, students can design their own plus–minus circuit pathways and light up the artwork they create.

The moment their homemade circuit closes and a tiny LED turns on, students feel a rush of excitement. Their artwork suddenly becomes alive, and they instantly understand that they made this happen. Some even try adding a second light, curious to see what will change. It is a beautiful example of hands-on STEAM learning, where art and science meet naturally.
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These circuit kits are easy to find on Amazon, inexpensive, and perfect for introducing basic electronics without any soldering or specialized equipment. The LEDs come in sticker form, and the conductive tape adheres cleanly to paper, making it possible for students to build functional circuits right on their cards.

Is It Safe to Put Scotch Tape on the LED or the Battery?

​1. Taping Over the LED:
Safe

 Placing clear Scotch tape on top of the LED is completely safe.

• The front surface of the LED is insulated, so tape will not cause a short circuit.
• Tape can help keep the LED securely in place and protect the artwork.

​Taping over the LED is perfectly fine.

2. Taping Over the Battery: Partially

Safe

It is okay to use small pieces of tape to secure the battery in place, but you should not cover the entire battery.

Safe

• Taping the battery on one side only.
• Using small strips of tape to keep the battery from shifting.
• Leaving at least one surface of the battery open for proper contact.

Unsafe

• Completely wrapping the battery in tape.
• Covering both the positive (+) and negative (–) sides.
• Allowing tape to trap conductive materials around the battery, which increases the chance of a short circuit.

Covering the battery completely can

• block electrical contact,
• cause overheating if a hidden short circuit occurs,
• and make the circuit unreliable.
  
  

 Secure the battery with small pieces of tape, but do NOT tape over the entire battery.

The Magic Moment: “My circuit makes the light turn on!”The process begins with students planning their artwork. They decide where the light will shine: a glowing moon, a sparkling Christmas tree, a lantern held by Santa, or a star in the night sky. This step alone prompts creative problem-solving, as students imagine how light can enhance their visual storytelling.

Next comes the scientific portion: they lay out the conductive tape to form a complete circuit, connecting the positive and negative sides of the LED to the coin battery. This simple task allows them to understand how electricity flows, how polarity matters, and why the circuit must be closed.

When the light turns on for the first time, the classroom atmosphere changes instantly. Students laugh, cheer, and proudly show their glowing cards to one another. Many choose to experiment further:
“Will it work if I add another LED?”
“Why is one light dimmer when two are connected?”
“What happens if I change the pathway?”
Suddenly, their artwork becomes an experiment—and they become young engineers.

Safety Considerations: Using Lithium Coin Batteries ResponsiblyThese projects use CR2032 lithium coin batteries, which are very small and pose a choking hazard. For that reason, this activity is most appropriate for older elementary or middle school students, not younger children.

Before starting, I explain several safety guidelines:

1. Never put the battery near the mouth.
2. Store unused batteries safely until needed.
3. Secure all circuit components with tape to prevent loose pieces.
4. Remove the battery after class if the project will be transported.

Learning to handle materials safely is an important part of the educational experience.

Educational Value: More Than a Craft ProjectThis activity is not just an art project—it is a complete STEAM lesson offering multiple layers of learning:

1. Basic Circuit Understanding
   Students learn polarity, closed circuits, and the cause-and-effect relationship of electrical flow.
2. Creative Problem-Solving
   When lights fail to turn on, students diagnose their own mistakes, such as misplaced tape or reversed polarity.
3. Expanded Artistic Expression
   Light becomes a design element, encouraging students to think beyond traditional drawing.
4. Hands-on STEAM Integration
   Science, technology, engineering, art, and mathematics converge naturally in a single activity.
5. High Sense of Accomplishment
   The combination of creation and functionality gives students a deep feeling of ownership and pride.

A Small Light That Inspires Big ImaginationThrough this Christmas card project, I was reminded once again how much children enjoy discovering new possibilities. When their moon glows or their winter landscape lights up, they look amazed—not just at the card, but at themselves. They realize that they created something beautiful and functional.
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If you are looking for a meaningful holiday art activity, I highly recommend incorporating LED circuit kits. They transform a simple greeting card into an unforgettable learning experience where imagination sparks, curiosity grows, and tiny lights shine brightly in students’ hands.
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Safety Warning: Avoid Short Circuits

​When building the circuit, make sure the conductive tape does not touch both sides of the coin battery at the same time.
If the positive (+) side and the negative (–) side are connected directly by tape, it creates a short circuit, which can cause the battery to overheat.
Always check the student’s work at the end to ensure the conductive paths are separated and properly connected through the LED, not directly to each other.

​In an age when artificial intelligence accelerates every part of our lives, I find myself moving in the opposite direction. While the world leans toward automation, I am creating an analog calendar—painted by hand, page by page. This November, I published a watercolor book with a friend, and we exhibited it at our local library. It feels as if we are rowing upstream in a digital river, yet we continue moving forward with conviction.

Looking back, I realize there are many things I no longer needed to learn for the AI era—Photoshop being one of them. Today, even that software incorporates AI tools capable of producing images through a short prompt. These tools are impressive, but not yet perfect, and I still find myself returning to older methods. Still, I cannot help but feel that the digital art industry is in for massive upheaval. One way or another, we all need to adapt.

My child loves digital art. They draw animations daily and dream of working in the digital arts. Not long ago, they wanted to become a veterinarian. Their dreams shift frequently, but I choose not to interfere or offer opinions. People should do what they love most. That belief has never changed. And the speed of change today is so overwhelming that even adults—especially parents—cannot pretend to know what the future holds. That is why I remain silent and simply watch.

In hindsight, prestigious universities or formal credentials feel less essential in today’s world. Knowledge built on rote memorization is losing relevance. What matters now is the ability to create, to apply, and to propose solutions that make life easier or more joyful. I suspect this may become the era of people with entrepreneurial instincts.

Painting has taught me something similar. To work deeply, I must tune into my own frequency rather than the world’s. I cannot know whether my work will be welcomed, understood, or celebrated. If people do look at my paintings and respond, that becomes the path toward recognition—the mysterious ascent of becoming a well-known artist. Many around me work tirelessly, trying not to miss even the smallest sign of success, hoping it might become their own.

I finished graduate school during the transitional moment when AI tools like ChatGPT became publicly accessible. My professors encouraged their use, urging us to learn how these tools worked. But because our program was centered on reflection and personal insight, AI could not help beyond smoothing out phrasing. Perhaps out of pride, I didn’t use the tools. Ironically, my raw, unpolished reports received high marks.

In the midst of the AI wave, I chose an analog, story-driven program in graduate school. I questioned that decision many times, unsure whether it was the right direction. But after graduating, I can confidently say it was. I learned how to survive in a rapidly changing world through multiple creative channels—blogging, publishing, teaching, and exhibiting. I built various pipelines. And most importantly, the process trained me to think and speak through my work.

As AI becomes more dominant, humans will rely increasingly on machines. That is why the ability to think independently, to imagine, and to build something new will become even more valuable. I believe artwork should move in that direction too. Each year I set up a large question—a thematic frame—and explore it through smaller subtopics in my paintings.
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The world is shifting quickly, and the waves ahead are enormous. As an analog artist, this reality feels both thrilling and tense. But I want to keep challenging myself. Life itself is a series of challenges. And within those challenges, I continue finding new ways to stay afloat, to create, and to tell my story.

​This year, once again, our students and I are preparing for the “Save The Frogs” Art Contest. Each year that we take part, I find myself deeply inspired by how much the children grow through this experience. At first, many were simply satisfied with drawing frogs, but now they have come to understand the idea of a poster—how to design an image that carries a message, speaks to an audience, and advocates for something important. Their works have grown more refined, more sophisticated, and, most importantly, filled with their own voices.

A poster is more than just a drawing. It combines composition, clarity of theme, and the power to move people. Through this project, the students learn that creating art is not only about drawing well, but also about asking: What do I want to express? What do I hope others feel or understand when they see my work? Some students use colors and layouts to communicate the value of life, while others explore the relationship between humans and frogs, highlighting the importance of coexistence. In this way, each child steps for a moment into the role of both designer and environmental advocate.

​What stands out especially this year is the diversity of approaches. Some chose realistic depictions of frogs to emphasize the urgency of extinction. Others used cartoon-like characters to create a friendlier but still powerful message. Some experimented with dimensional lettering and patterns to capture attention visually. Each piece reflects a unique personality and imagination, and as their teacher, it is incredibly rewarding to witness these creative voices come alive on the page.

The “Save The Frogs” contest is not simply about artistic skill. It is about reflection and awareness. Through drawing, students begin to think about environmental destruction, endangered species, and our shared responsibility to protect the earth. While sketching frogs, our classroom conversations naturally expand to topics such as biodiversity, ecological balance, and the role we each play in conservation. The children ask themselves, If I could help save frogs, what would I do? and then they try to answer that question through colors, lines, and images.
When the artworks are complete, we gather to share them. Each student presents a different voice, and the variety itself is powerful. The children see firsthand that there are countless ways to express one idea, and that their individual perspectives matter. This becomes not only an art lesson but also a lesson in empathy, imagination, and civic engagement.

Once again, this year’s preparation for “Save The Frogs” has proven to be much more than getting ready for a contest. Each student shows new levels of effort, creativity, and awareness, and I am reminded of the power of art education. Art is one of the purest and most effective languages we have to speak to the world. Seeing children learn that language—and use it to raise their voices for the environment—is something truly special.
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As we move forward, our hope is to continue using this contest not only as an artistic challenge but as a bridge to the larger world. A small frog on the brink of extinction is, in fact, connected to the health of our entire planet. Sharing that truth through art is perhaps the greatest gift “Save The Frogs” brings to us.