In our previous discussions, we’ve established that new tools have historically fostered, rather than stifled, human creativity (Part 1), and that the perceived “lack of creativity” often predates AI, residing more in mainstream cultural blind spots and algorithmic homogeny than in the technology itself (Part 2). Now, we must turn the lens inward, because a significant part of the resistance to AI in creative fields stems not from the technology’s inherent flaws, but from deeply ingrained human psychological biases. The “doom and gloom” mindset, often adopted by critics, combined with a profound effort to not face their own shortcomings and assume accountability for their mistakes (looking at you WGA and SAG), isn’t just a critique; it’s a symptom of a profound uncreativeness, an inability to conceive of new possibilities that ultimately limits not just their own vision, but actively seeks to limit everyone else’s.
This is where the psychological undercurrents become crucial. When someone cannot personally envision how a new tool could expand creativity, they often project that limitation onto the technology and, by extension, onto anyone who embraces it. This stems from a fixed mindset, a belief that creativity is a static concept, rather than a dynamic, ever-evolving force. If their established ways are the “right” ways, then any deviation, especially one that streamlines or alters traditional processes, must inherently be “lesser” or “wrong.” This unconsciously fuels a sense of superiority, as if their hard-won traditional skills are somehow threatened by the democratizing force of a new tool. If AI is “cheating,” then its personal expertise remains uniquely validated, no matter how much the landscape shifts.
Consider, for example, the recent pronouncements from acclaimed filmmaker Guillermo del Toro. At San Diego Comic-Con 2025, he garnered applause for his fervent declaration that “Art doesn’t come in a f—ing app,” further stating that AI art is an “insult to humanity.” On the surface, this sounds like a passionate defense of human craft. Yet, I’d argue this position reeks of hypocrisy, particularly from a filmmaker who has increasingly leveraged existing, well-established IP for commercial ventures on streaming platforms. While del Toro has indeed given us visually distinct, beloved films, his most widely embraced works, like Hellboy and Pacific Rim, are generally lauded more for their kinetic energy and imaginative spectacle than profound narrative depth. When he ventures into more overtly “elevated” fare, like The Shape of Water or Crimson Peak, critical reception has often revealed a shakier foundation, suggesting that his strength lies more in visual invention than in complex, original storytelling.
“If AI is ‘cheating,’ then its personal expertise remains uniquely validated, no matter how much the landscape shifts.”
His current trajectory, seemingly dedicated to scraping classic tales like Lovecraft, Pinocchio, and Frankenstein for streaming, appears to prioritize that Netflix cash and the comfortable re-treading of familiar ground over groundbreaking original narratives for the big screen. This isn’t just disingenuous; it highlights an obvious reliance on pre-existing concepts as a crutch rather than venturing into truly uncharted artistic territory. If a director, at the peak of their influence, is actively choosing to rehash beloved stories for a paycheck rather than creating wholly new mythologies, while also using every technology at his disposal that happens to pass his purity test, it’s frankly audacious for him to then decry the one available to all that offers unparalleled speed for generating novel ideas and iterating on concepts.
The bitter irony isn’t lost: a prolific artist, thriving within a system that increasingly favors established franchises and risk-averse formulas, spitting venom at a tool that could empower a new generation of filmmakers to bypass those very gatekeepers. It begs the question: is the fear truly about the ‘soul’ of art, or is it a transparent discomfort with a tool that could open up the means of production so dramatically that even a fledgling indie filmmaker, armed with AI, could quickly bring visions to life that throw the ‘substandard’ into sharp relief? This isn’t to diminish del Toro’s significant contributions, but to expose how even celebrated figures can unknowingly become zealous proponents of a shrinking market, guarding their perceived creative turf rather than embracing the expansive possibilities that innovation offers.
This defensive posture often finds fertile ground in online echo chambers. When like-minded individuals, united by a shared fear or resistance to change, congregate, their anxieties and biases are amplified. They form a feedback loop where preconceived notions, often borrowed from dystopian science fiction narratives about rogue AI, are reinforced, making them increasingly impervious to evidence or alternative perspectives. This isn’t a rational discourse; it’s a self-imposed psychological, creative impediment they then feel compelled to impose on others, sometimes unknowingly, sometimes with active malice.
The scope of AI’s potential, however, extends far beyond the digital screens where it currently dominates conversations. To limit our imagination to just AI-generated images or text on the internet is, again, a profound failure of foresight. Consider the transformative possibilities when AI is brought into other avenues, particularly for those with limited resources or physical constraints:
Empowering Underserved Musicians and Storytellers: Imagine an aspiring musician with no band, living in a rural area, maybe even a third-world country, now able to craft rich, multi-instrumental compositions using AI-driven music generation tools. Or consider an aspiring film writer with a powerful story but limited funds, able to generate stunning concept art, character designs, or even animated sequences for their independent film, all from text. Prompts are writing, and writing is a skill that takes time to cultivate. AI can bridge the gap between a compelling creative vision and the daunting traditional requirements of money, equipment, and a large team, fostering entirely new voices that might otherwise remain unheard.
“The bitter irony isn’t lost: a prolific artist…spitting venom at a tool that could empower a new generation of filmmakers to bypass those very gatekeepers.”
Revolutionizing Accessibility for Disabled and Terminally Ill Creators: Picture a paralyzed individual, confined to a room, who can now direct an entire film simply by using eye-tracking technology to select AI-generated scenes, characters, and environments, bringing their cinematic vision to life. Or envision a terminally ill person, with a finite amount of time, who can rapidly prototype and complete the novel, screenplay, or graphic novel they have always dreamed of, leveraging AI to handle the time-consuming production elements that would otherwise make their ambition impossible. AI offers a pathway for those whose physical abilities or time are limited to externalize their inner worlds and leave a lasting artistic legacy.
Physical Goods like Statues and Architecture: Generative design, powered by AI, can explore entirely new forms, optimize structures for efficiency and sustainability, or rapidly prototype complex designs that would take humans weeks or months. AI becomes a powerful design assistant, allowing architects to push aesthetic and structural boundaries.
The fact is, we don’t know for better or worse what’s possible for any and every human being on God’s green Earth. It could mean any number of unfulfilled dreams which they never dared believe could become reality, new ideas that could improve our world but might have otherwise gone unrealized, now within arm’s reach. Then, Guillermo del Toro descends from his multi-million dollar mansion where he keeps his extravagant and expensive movie memorabilia collection, as well as several fully stocked refrigerators, to tell them they’re an insult to humanity. Quite frankly, he can go to hell.
In all these scenarios, AI isn’t replacing human talent; it’s acting as a starting point, a tool to refine, or a collaborative team that in the past most of us would consider ourselves lucky to be hired onto, never mind have at our disposal. The interaction is a dynamic mix, with human vision, curation, and refinement always remaining at the forefront. AI extends human talent, allowing creators to achieve visions that were once impossible due to technical limitations, time constraints, or sheer complexity.
The Ultimate Uncreativity: Fear of the New
Here lies my greatest doubt, not about AI, but about us. Everyone has become so consumed by their preconceived ideas about how things are, how they should be, and they’re so sure that only “slop” will be created and that things can only go badly. To me, that’s the surest way to ensure that they do. If your views are clouded by your assuredness that the ways you’ve always known have always been the right way, and that things just won’t work any other way, then you’ve limited yourself. Worse, you will work hard to limit everyone around you. The internet, paradoxically, for all its supposed openness, is crawling with people trying their damndest to shut down discussion, cut others down to size before they can express their viewpoint, or take up all the oxygen in a debate until people simply give up and agree out of pure exhaustion. I worry that people can hardly get out of their own way, let alone out of other people’s.
“Art doesn’t come in a f—ing app.”
Yes, human discipline is important. Working with your hands, mastering traditional crafts, helps you grow. But no one, not a single proponent of AI, has ever suggested that these things were going to go away. That was a gross assumption that seems to spring up every time a new technology comes along to speed up our ability to create new things at the speed of thought. The printing press didn’t end painting; photography didn’t end drawing; synthesizers didn’t end acoustic instruments. Each new tool simply expanded the definition of art, demanding new skills, new approaches, and new kinds of mastery.
The true future of art isn’t about what AI does to us, but what we, as artists and innovators, do with AI. It’s a new frontier, vast and undefined, ripe for human ingenuity. The uncreative act isn’t AI’s existence; it’s our unwillingness to engage with it, to explore its potential, and to challenge our own preconceived notions about what creativity truly means. The real failure of imagination lies not in the algorithms, but in the minds that refuse to see beyond the immediate horizon.
Christopher Moonlight is an animator, special effects artist, and the director of the ‘Award This’ winning movie, The Quantum Terror. His upcoming animated sci-fi adventure, Escape From Planet Omega-12, combines traditional film-making special effects with AI to create something never seen before in independent film. You can follow the behind-the-scenes, including tutorials, tips, and tricks, on his YouTube Channel and Substack.
