Choosing Analog in the Age of Artificial Intelligence

Choosing Analog in the Age of Artificial Intelligence

​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.