It’s no secret that AI, and especially generative AI, has taken over the world and everything in it — we are living through a time in which every industry has no choice but to seriously consider the role that technology will play in its future. Workers are being taught that the only way to avoid replacement by AI is to master it.

The change started with words: ChatGPT entered the scene with a boom, virtually erasing the need for busywork like writing emails or filtering through search results for information. Writers across the world were immediately put on edge, fearful that their craft was being devalued right in front of their eyes, with nothing they could do about it. For the most part, though, the visual arts seemed to be safe. AI pictures used to be hilariously easy to spot, from jumbled letters on street signs to eight fingers gracing a single hand.

Now, though, it’s not so simple. In the past two years or so, AI art — pictures and videos in the style of animation or realism — have become good enough that some cannot differentiate between real human work and zeroes and ones coming together to create a mockery.

I’m sure you’ve heard about the AI fruit videos that have gotten so popular that The New York Times just published an article about them. Or maybe you’ve heard about the quick graphics that brands can’t help themselves from using in order not to pay some intern $17 an hour. The art industry is facing an existential threat, and AI is the culprit.

Let’s make one thing clear before we continue: AI-generated art does not compare to human creation, and it never will. Art is about capturing the essence of life. It’s about laughter and pain and heartbreak and camaraderie. It’s about kids who will never get the chance to grow up and about women across the globe who have been robbed of opportunity at every turn. It is about unfinished business and imperfection in times of tragedy.

Children don’t sit in their high chairs watching news briefings or C++ lectures. They watch Mickey Mouse and Bluey; they learn how to share and how to laugh. They — and I hope this is still true, though I have a dreadful inkling it’s not anymore — are immersed in the worlds created by fantasy authors, and they sneak to read just one more chapter after bedtime.

When we grow up, we are introduced to the music our parents listened to when they were our age, and we adopt it into our own taste, much to their delight. We are shaped by art and we are able to find it in everything. A machine cannot feel these things that we can — it can only mimic.

Still, as our world continues on its shift toward technology and its devaluing of the arts, there are plenty of people who think these quick and easy replacements are just as good as the real thing. As our attention spans shrink and streaming platforms charge more, many young people would rather indulge themselves with short AI-generated clips than watch a two-hour movie or even a 30-minute sitcom episode. People are (allegedly) writing — or rather, generating — novels using generative AI. Some are even being picked up by major publishers.

Non-artists also have cause for concern. If AI can replace the building blocks of our humanity, who’s to say it won’t come for your “real” jobs next? ChatGPT can already write some pretty decent code, and it can certainly act as a consultant for companies looking to maximize profits.

It is estimated that around 300 million jobs are exposed to AI automation, and researchers say women make up about 86% of the workers most vulnerable to being replaced. How are we to live in this world, to afford eggs and gas, if the ones with all the money are so dedicated to replacing us? 

Imagine if all the classics disappeared in one night. Imagine the Louvre as an abandoned building, cobwebs building up in the corners. Or the New York Public Library with all its shelves bare, and with the lions on either side of its massive doors gone. Imagine Agra without the Taj Mahal, or Rio de Janeiro without Christ the Redeemer casting its tear-jerkingly beautiful shadow on the land. The world would be gray, filled with leaks only artists know how to plug. The fire in our hearts would be extinguished, and nothing would be left to promise us new beginnings. Our children would cry and cry, yearning for knowledge and grounding that would no longer exist.

We as artists must do what we have done for millennia. We must continue to create, even when the world attempts to beat us down, even when there’s no monetary gain in sight. We must put pen to paper and brush to canvas. We must reject the capitalist overlords who tell us that majoring in English or fashion or animation is a waste of money and time. We must support the arts when we can — buy books and paintings, go to the opera and the ballet, put down your phone and support longform media.

We cannot be convinced that we are replaceable. A machine pretending to think can never do what we do, no matter how hard it tries.