Art Is Art: Standing Proud in the Face of AI Criticism

By Sean Twisted:

A brush doesn't paint the masterpiece by itself. A piano doesn't magically compose a sonata while you're off at the store. A camera doesn't aim itself & frame the perfect shot. Artists do. So why are we suddenly pretending that AI tools are somehow different? I've been bothered by this double standard for a while now. When people dismiss creative works as "AI slop" simply because artificial intelligence was used as a tool in the process, they're missing something fundamental: AI is just the instrument, not the artist. The art still belongs to its human creator.

This attitude cuts through the noise around AI-assisted creativity and exposes a double standard that's  actually quite toxic to creators. 

The Elephant in the Room

One of the most common criticisms leveled at AI-assisted art is that "AI learns from copyrighted material." Critics act as if this fundamentally taints any creation that comes from these tools.

But here's the obvious parallel they're missing: humans learn from copyrighted material too.

How many artists first picked up a pencil because they wanted to draw Ariel from "The Little Mermaid"? How many musicians started playing guitar by learning their favorite songs, like Metallica's "The Unforgiven"? How many writers began by imitating the style of authors they admired?

The entire history of human creativity is built on this process of learning from existing works. Consider filmmakers like Quentin Tarantino, who openly discusses how his love for Sergio Leone's spaghetti westerns directly influenced his directorial style. The long shots, the extreme close-ups, the tension-building techniques in "Django Unchained" or "The Hateful Eight" directly echo Leone's work in films like "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly." Yet no one suggests Tarantino's films are "slop" because he was influenced by previous directors.

Musicians constantly cite their influences. The Beatles were shaped by American rock and roll, Buddy Holly, and early Motown. Led Zeppelin borrowed heavily from blues traditions. Hip-hop was built on sampling existing records. Each generation of artists stands on the shoulders of those who came before them, learning techniques, absorbing aesthetics, and then recombining these influences into something new.

This process of absorption, learning, and transformation is exactly what both human and AI creativity represent. The only difference is the mechanism of that learning—neural networks instead of neural pathways.

The Double Standard of Creative Tools

Think about it: Industrial music pioneers took factory sounds, mechanical rhythms, and electronic manipulation to create an entirely new genre. Did we dismiss Trent Reznor because he used samplers instead of "real instruments"? Of course not. Nine Inch Nails redefined what music could sound like by embracing technology, not running from it.

When Kraftwerk started making music with synthesizers in the 1970s, critics called it "soulless" and "mechanical." Now they're considered revolutionary pioneers who changed the course of music history. Their Museum exhibition tours the world as high art.

Electronic music has spent decades using programmed beats, synthesized sounds, and yes, loops. Artists like Daft Punk, Aphex Twin, and countless others built entire careers on technological manipulation. The Roland TR-808 transformed music despite being a machine that made artificial drum sounds. That little box shaped hip-hop, techno, and pop music for generations.

Remember when Auto-Tune was considered "cheating"? Now it's just another production tool in the arsenal, one that artists like T-Pain and Bon Iver transformed into a distinctive aesthetic choice rather than just pitch correction.

Why were those technologies acceptable but AI assistance is somehow cheating?

It's like finding out your favorite burger was made by a robot chef and suddenly deciding it doesn't taste good anymore. The emotional impact gets downgraded not because of any change in the actual experience, but because of an arbitrary distinction about process.

If you're watching "The Matrix" and someone tells you, "Oh, the special effects? All done by an algorithm," would you suddenly be less impressed by the bullet-time shots? No way! They're still awesome, regardless of how they were created.

The Human Element Remains

When artists work with AI, they craft sounds using detailed prompts, considering every aspect from tempo to instrumentation to vocal emotion. That level of direction requires artistic vision and technical understanding.

The AI doesn't decide what makes a good song. It doesn't determine what resonates emotionally. It doesn't choose what to say lyrically. Those remain fundamentally human choices.

It's judging a cake by the recipe, not the taste. Would you care if a chef used a food processor instead of chopping everything by hand if the final dish was delicious? Probably not. You'd just enjoy the meal.

When an artist uses AI, they're making dozens of creative decisions:

• Deciding what style to explore
• Determining what emotional qualities to emphasize
• Setting parameters for tempo, instrumentation, and structure
• Selecting from multiple outputs
• Editing, arranging, and refining the material
• Choosing what to keep, what to discard, what to modify
• Adding personal touches and flourishes
• Making thematic connections between elements
• Ensuring the work reflects their artistic vision

Think about electronic music producers. They don't physically play every note of a sequence. They program it, shape it, and make countless decisions about how it should sound. Using AI is just an extension of that same process.

And yes, there's a learning curve to using AI effectively - just like learning any other instrument or tool. Anyone who's ever tried setting up a home studio knows the journey of learning new technology. It takes skill to direct AI well, to understand how to craft prompts that produce results aligned with your vision.

A Tool in the Artistic Arsenal

Every technological advancement in art history faced initial resistance. When photography emerged, traditional painters dismissed it as mechanical reproduction rather than "real art." When synthesizers appeared, classical musicians scoffed at these "fake instruments." When digital editing transformed film, purists complained about lost authenticity.

Remember when CGI first appeared in movies? Critics said it would never match the authenticity of practical effects. Now, it's impossible to imagine modern filmmaking without it.

When digital cameras first appeared, professional photographers insisted they would never replace film. The resolution wasn't high enough, the colors weren't true enough, the "soul" was missing. Now, digital photography is the standard, with its own unique aesthetic qualities.

When electronic drum machines entered the music scene, "real" drummers felt threatened. The machines couldn't capture the subtle nuances of human performance. But artists embraced these limitations and created entirely new genres around the distinctive sounds these machines produced.

All these tools eventually became respected parts of the artistic landscape. Now we're seeing a parallel transition with AI.

Even sampling faced fierce resistance initially. Using snippets of existing recordings was seen as theft, not creativity. Now it's recognized as a legitimate art form that requires skill, taste, and musicality to execute well.

AI is simply the latest in this long tradition of creative tools that expand what's possible. It's not replacing human creativity—it's augmenting it, allowing artists to explore new territories and express themselves in different ways.

It's like when phones evolved from just making calls to becoming tiny supercomputers in our pockets. Technology evolves, and so does art. These changes open new possibilities rather than diminishing what came before.

Judge the Art, Not the Process

Here's what matters: Does the music move you? Does the image speak to you? Does the creation communicate something meaningful?

If you heard a song without knowing how it was made, would your emotional response be different? If the answer is no, then your objection isn't to the art itself but to your perception of how it was created.

The dismissive label "AI slop" says more about fear of change than about artistic quality. It's a knee-jerk reaction that fails to engage with the actual work on its merits.

Think about it: when you're moved by a piece of music, you don't immediately ask what model of synthesizer was used, or which recording software captured the performance. You respond to the emotional truth of the experience.

Great art has always been about communication and connection. The tools used to create that connection are secondary to the connection itself. Whether a songwriter composes on an acoustic guitar, a piano, or with AI assistance, what matters is whether the song resonates with listeners.

Remember vinyl purists who insisted digital music would never capture the "warmth" of records? Some people still prefer vinyl, but most of us just care about hearing the music we love, regardless of format. The delivery method is less important than the content.

Similarly, in visual art, does it matter whether an artist used traditional oils, digital painting software, or AI-assisted tools? Not if the result moves you, challenges you, or makes you see the world differently.

Great artists have always adapted new technologies to their vision, not the other way around. Picasso didn't paint like everyone else just because he used the same brushes. Hendrix didn't sound like other guitarists despite using the same model of Stratocaster. The tool serves the artist, not vice versa.

Beyond Technical Skill

Art has never been solely about technical execution. If that were true, we'd only value photorealistic painters and perfect technical musicians. Instead, we celebrate artists who bring unique perspectives, emotional depth, and innovative approaches to their work.

Consider outsider art, created by untrained artists who may lack conventional technical skills but produce powerfully authentic work. Or punk rock, which prioritized raw expression over virtuosity. Or impressionist painters, who were initially criticized for their "unfinished" looking works that broke from academic traditions.

What if AI tools could democratize creativity in new ways? They might allow people with brilliant ideas but limited technical abilities to express themselves more fully. A songwriter who can't play an instrument might still create beautiful music. A visionary who can't draw might still produce stunning visual art.

This doesn't mean skill is irrelevant—directing AI effectively requires its own kind of mastery. But it shifts the emphasis from technical execution to creative vision, conceptual strength, and emotional resonance.

The Future is Already Here

AI-assisted work isn't some distant possibility—it's already being recognized at the highest levels. The 2024 Nobel Prize in Chemistry was awarded to scientists using AI to design new proteins and solve major scientific problems.

If AI-assisted discoveries can win Nobel Prizes, why can't AI-assisted music be recognized as legitimate art?

It's worth noting that we're still in the early days. The primitive synthesizers of the 1960s barely hint at what modern electronic music production can achieve. Today's AI creative tools will seem similarly rudimentary compared to what's coming in the next decade.

Imagine AI-generated music that adapts to your emotional state in real-time. Or collaborative systems that learn your artistic preferences and help you push your creativity in new directions. Or tools that let you control complex visual or sonic elements with intuitive gestures rather than technical knowledge.

The possibilities are just beginning to unfold. Artists who embrace these tools now are pioneering approaches that will become standard practice in the future.

An Invitation to Open-Mindedness

To those quick to dismiss AI-assisted creativity, I extend a simple invitation: actually listen before labeling. Judge the art, not the process.

The future of creativity is wide open, with new tools emerging constantly. Those who embrace these tools thoughtfully, with intention and vision, will create the next wave of artistic innovation.

And they won't be apologizing for it.

Remember when electronic music was dismissed as "not real music" because it wasn't performed by traditional instrumentalists? Those critics missed out on decades of innovative, emotionally powerful work because they couldn't get past their preconceptions about what music should be.

Let's not make the same mistake with AI-assisted art. Let's evaluate each work on its own merits, with open ears and open eyes. Let's consider how it makes us feel, what it communicates, and whether it succeeds on its own terms.

Ultimately, art isn't about the technology used to create it. It's about human expression, connection, and meaning. As long as AI remains a tool in service of human creativity—rather than replacing it—the art will remain fundamentally human.

New technologies don't diminish art; they expand it. They give creators new languages to express timeless human experiences. And that's something worth celebrating, not dismissing.