The above image has been making the rounds in artistic circles across social media — particularly ArtStation, DeviantArt and Instagram. The protest comes from artists who are pushing back against the usage of their images to train the AI algorithms that are currently generating the waves of jaw-dropping visual imagery we've seen go viral over the last few months.

This protest portrays itself as a righteous pushback against a form of copyright infringement and theft. I — trained illustrator, though I am — remain skeptical of this protest. As has been the case every time society is confronted by a massive jump in technological advancement, the first conversation is "should we allow this technology?" Pretty soon thereafter we realize this question doesn't make sense, and the question quickly becomes, "taking the existence of this technology as a given, what are we going to do about it?"

This is how it plays out every single time there is a massive jump in technology that affects incumbent industry — publishing, music, film, tv, finance, and even weapons manufacturing have all been affected in the last 30 years. Technological advance comes for us all. It's visual artists' time to find ourselves on the chopping block of technological innovation.

Suppression never works (Napster? Pirate Bay?). Again, as is the case with all new technologies, asking whether this new technology should “be allowed” doesn’t even make sense to ask. The only question that makes sense to ask is what we can actually do about this new reality in which we now find ourselves.

So... what can we do?

Well, even if we all agreed that training an algorithm to recognize patterns was tantamount to stealing (not something I would agree with — but let's just start there, for the sake of argument), I highly doubt there is any practical way to regulate the consumption of an image. Just because it's a computer consuming and learning from someone's artwork doesn't turn that activity into theft. What exactly is the operating principle here? Artists do exactly this all the time. Artists routinely use other artists' work — some even trace it directly. Any artist with a modicum of experience will tell you the value of performing "master studies". And what exactly is a master study? It is one artist directly copying the work of another artist so as to pick up on the nuances and techniques of the original artist. Why? So the copier may employ those techniques in their own artwork at some point in the future.

In other words, artists perform master studies as a means of uncovering patterns, committing these patterns to memory, and later integrating these patterns into their own workflow and artwork. One might even say this is analogous to... training an algorithm.

Further, the world of concept art — the group of art professionals most vociferously opposed to AI-generated art — is notorious for "photo bashing." Photo-bashing is an image-creation technique that involves taking advantage of the overflowing amounts of free photo reference made available via another form of world-altering technology that itself caused a bit of tumult — Google — and mashing these photos together in Photoshop (with a bit of brush work tossed in) to create something new. This practice mostly goes uncriticized. At the very least, it is pretty well tolerated. In fact, for years many from the art community have defended the right to sample and remix art, claiming that the conversion of the original art into something entirely new makes the new artwork properly the possession of the remixer.

A few years ago it was hard to find a single artist who wasn't passionately in defense of Shepard Fairey when he was being sued for using a photograph for creating the famed "HOPE" image of Barack Obama. Notice, Fairey's artwork was far closer to a one-to-one copy of the reference photo he used than anything currently being produced by AI. Shepard Fairey literally traced the photo reference in vector. AI is performing pattern recognition to create entirely new images. This is not tracing or photo bashing; These are new images.

So I remain skeptical of the true motivations of the art community's protest against AI art. Today's artists aren’t having their work “stolen” any more than other artists who have — for decades — had their styles copied or emulated or photographers who’ve had their photos used as reference. Have these artists paid for every single piece of photo reference they have ever used? Have they paid every single artist they've ever used for a master study? Have they paid every artist they have ever deliberately attempted to emulate? 

I strongly suspect not. So it is a little difficult to see the backlash against AI as a principled stance against copyright infringement. If so, the outrage is awfully selective.

Even if we wanted to regulate the usage of copyrighted art for the creation of AI images, on what grounds would we do it? Copyright infringement only occurs when you can establish that someone creates a work of art so similar to yours that a potential customer — who would have otherwise bought that artwork from you — instead purchases the derivative work.

And even in this example, the case for making a claim of copyright infringement is quite circumscribed and limited. For example, if two people painted images of a dog, one artist couldn't sue the other because their similar-looking artwork presented the possibility of competition with potential buyers. That first artist only owns the rights to their image of a dog — they don't own the rights to all paintings of all dogs everywhere. Even though the competition between artists mutually injures their prospects for financial gain, that fact alone isn't enough to claim copyright infringement.

So how could it be said that AI is creating unlawfully derivative works of art when it is creating wholly new imagery? Again, just because the competition it creates poses a potential threat to existing artists' capacity to earn money isn't sufficient to prove copyright infringement. And, once again, what is the AI doing that every other artist doesn't do already? Copying art styles? Copying reference photos? Gathering a massive backlog of inspiration and artwork as reference for future projects? Studying other artists for trends, patterns and techniques to then incorporate directly into one's own work?

All artists do these things. Every one of them. The only difference is that now, instead of a human brain performing the pattern recognition, it's an algorithm. Just because it is more effective at this activity than a human doesn't change the moral calculus of said activity. "Good artists copy. Great artists steal." Every artist out there has heard this quote before — and very few respond indignantly. It's just accepted as true.

So if not for a principled stance on copyright, why the backlash? In my opinion there's only one reason: fear.

Artists — myself included — are absolutely terrified at the prospect of obsolescence. However, just because this change is terrifying, doesn't mean we have been wronged. Yes, it feels unfair that a lifetime spent building up a unique skillset in the arts could see its utility reduced to virtually zero in a matter of months. It's cruel and it's unfair. But — sadly — this is the world in which we live.

The only question that matters now: what do we do about it?

Now is a great time to return to the fundamentals of what makes an artistic skillset valuable to a company. Creative people must also be business people. To know our worth, we have to understand the markets in which we operate. What value do artists really bring to businesses? How exactly do these businesses earn money? What additional skillsets can we add to our repertoire that would help businesses in these activities?

Business coach Jonathan Stark has a quote that stuck with me, which I think is uniquely apt given the current moment: "The universe doesn't owe you a high-paying salary to do your favorite hobby."

This quote is brutal. It is also true.

Ultimately, all professional artists exist to help improve some sort of business outcome. And right now we are facing a challenge: we have to return to a foundational understanding of what value our art provides from a business perspective — not from our own personal perspective. The sense of intrinsic value we personally derive from creating art plays no part in driving improved business outcomes. And if you want to get paid to do art, you better learn how your art improves the bottom line of someone's business.

My guess is that the fields of art that overlap with coding, storytelling, interaction, and animation will best survive the "AI art-pocalypse." But this is just a guess. I am sure of one thing, however: AI art isn't going anywhere, and it is only going to get better (Think MidJourney sucks at hands? Give it a year). Whether we feel this should be allowed or not is completely beside the point. 

So, my dear fellow artist — given the new reality in which we now find ourselves — what are you going to do? How do you plan to adapt?

This, sadly, is the only question that even makes sense to ask.