The topic of AI-generated art has sparked an ongoing discussion in my household. I'm an artist engaged to a software developer. Lately, we seem star-crossed on this subject as the art and tech worlds clash over questions of ethics, legality and ownership — not to mention the very function of art itself.

It's been hard not to feel threatened by this new technology. Like many artists, I believed that creative fields were immune to the threat of automation. My fiancé was more emotionally prepared; machines have been coming for his job for years, and this is unlikely to change.

I've learned that programmers have a far different relationship to their code than artists do to their craft. It's my belief that much of the friction within this debate is born from the conflicting perspectives regarding the usage of one's work. This was evident when programmers assumed that artistic styles were as "open-sourced" as the code they used to create their AI art programs. The art community was unsurprisingly outraged. What of copyright? What of ownership? Artists are important!

Aren't they?

There is something inevitable about the rise of AI-generated art. By its very definition, technology is designed to make human life easier, and it does in many ways, from rear-facing cameras to smartphones to autocorrect. We've spent millennia inventing tools that increase efficiency and decrease effort.

It's in our nature to opt for ease. And if there's one thing I know as an artist and an educator, it's that making art is hard. It takes time and work and vulnerability and sacrifice and a despairing amount of Sisyphean repetition. But is it necessary? Can we create art without effort?

Amid all these swirling quandaries, there was something I felt was going unsaid. Philosophical questions humanity has pondered for centuries have reemerged, suddenly inspired by, of all things, a sophisticated technological advancement: What is art, who is art for, and why are we making it in the first place? Those questions lurk at the center of this debate, and the answers are as subjective and personal as art making in the first place.

So I listened. I processed what I heard and produced this comic. When it comes down to it, this is what I believe is the core purpose of an artist: to absorb information, ruminate and create something new. Though maybe that's just how I was wired.

Related A New Exhibit at the BCA Center Presents the Possibilities — and Pitfalls — of AI-Generated Art

A New Exhibit at the BCA Center Presents the Possibilities — and Pitfalls — of AI-Generated Art

By Chelsea Edgar

Visual Art