As a person in my 50s, I've seen my fair share of technological change and the upheaval it can cause for people in creative careers. And I'm not going to sugar-coat it: it can be awful. But at the same time, there is hope.
Take how Napster decimated the music industry, and what this can teach visual artists under assault from AI today.
For those too young to remember, let me paint you a picture of the late 1990s. The music industry was a well-oiled money machine. Record labels held all the cards: they controlled distribution, marketing and most importantly, access to music itself. If you wanted to listen to a song, you had to buy the entire album for £15, even if you only liked one track. It was a profitable business.
Then in 1999, along came Shawn Fanning with a file-sharing website called Napster – one of the most disruptive apps ever. Suddenly anyone with the internet could download any song they wanted. For absolutely nothing.
The industry's response was predictably hysterical. They sued everyone from pensioners to teenagers, claiming each download was theft equivalent to shoplifting a CD (remember those DVD piracy spots, some of the best ads ever?). They weren't wrong, but they completely missed the point.
The simple, brutal lesson was this. If people don't have to pay for something, they won't, even if they absolutely love your work. Your biggest admirers, the ones with your posters on their bedroom walls, will stop paying the moment they can get your music for free.
It's not personal; it's human nature.
Lessons for the 2020s
Sound familiar? Because something remarkably similar is happening to creatives, and specifically illustrators, right now. Clients who once would have commissioned a bespoke piece can now type a few words into Midjourney and get something sophisticated and great-looking, for the cost of a monthly subscription. Why pay £500 for a book cover when you can generate dozens of options for pennies?
Just like with file-sharing websites, the tech isn't going away. You can rail against it all you like (and believe me, I feel you), but it's like shouting at the tide. The genie is out of the bottle, and is producing remarkably sophisticated imagery.
But here's the good news. The music industry survived. It adapted. And in some ways it's better for both fans and musicians than ever before.
Messy but democratic
Because let's not romanticise the old days. The traditional music industry was a shark tank where even successful pop stars might end up penniless thanks to exploitative contracts and creative accounting. American girl group TLC sold 65 million records and filed for bankruptcy. The system was brilliant at making record executives rich, less brilliant at supporting actual musicians.
Today's landscape is messier but more democratic. Today, many musicians have found success by learning to diversify: streaming revenue, merchandise, live performances (LOTS of live performances), brand partnerships, direct fan funding through platforms like Patreon (and releasing infinite numbers of album variants to increase sales, right Taylor?).
And the parallels for illustrators are becoming clearer by the day. The work landscape is changing rapidly, and traditional commissions are getting scarcer. But fresh opportunities will surely emerge for those clever enough to spot them.
Genuine originality
Remember, AI can produce technically proficient work, but it struggles with genuine originality, with all those happy accidents and deliberate imperfections that make real-life art compelling. So the key is developing something AI cannot easily replicate: your unique perspective, your personal style, your human stories and experiences.
It's likely, too, that traditional techniques will become more valuable; precisely because they're harder to digitise or automate. Hand lettering, printmaking, ceramics, sculpture; these tactile skills that require years to master are your moat against the algorithmic flood. Clients are starting to specifically seek out "human-made" art, just as vinyl records found a new market amongst people craving something physical and authentic.
All this, unfortunately, means working harder and being smarter. The cushion of regular money from commercial illustration is disappearing, just as it did for musicians when file-sharing killed album sales. But just as musicians adapted by leaning into live performance, soundtracks for TV and movies, and more, illustrators will surely find new pathways to income to replace the old (not everyone thinks those album cover variants are a good thing, though).
What these will look like, exactly, is difficult to predict. But one thing's for sure: the future belongs to illustrators who learn to surf the wave, rather than fight it.