THE SHIFT OF THE DIGITAL AGE

When the Machine Creates, Is There Still Room for the Human Touch?

I feel as though I keep having to relearn a new skill just to stay ahead, to keep up with the times, because if I don’t, I’ll be left behind. It wasn’t too long ago that knowing Photoshop was a big deal. I remember growing up and just learning how to use a computer, having to get used to typing because writing by hand was all I knew. I didn’t even have a cellphone at one point, before high school, because it didn’t exist at an affordable price, and back then, the internet wasn’t even a thing, at least not accessible from the comfort of my home.

But life comes at you fast.

The internet arrived, and cyber cafés became the place to be. I remember paying to access the internet, a luxury not many could afford to have at home. Then came owning a cellphone, and eventually laptops. Technology started placing access to information right at the palm of our hands. Libraries started to dwindle. Dictionaries were no longer a necessity.

Now, when I try to hold a pencil and paper, I realize I’ve become so accustomed to typing that I’ve almost forgotten my own beautiful handwriting.

As a graphic designer, my work feels constantly under threat. Ironically, I taught myself much of what I know through the same internet that now makes things too easy. YouTube, tutorials, free resources, they were my teachers. I learned Illustrator the same way. But now, with websites like Canva simplifying the process for everyone, our years of training and creative muscle often feel like a joke.

Still, I jump on the trends. Because the truth is, if life can be made easier, why not embrace it, right?

As a photographer, I used to take pride in the weight of my DSLR camera, its lenses, its gear, the time it took to compose and edit a shot. But today, everyone carries a high-definition camera in their pockets. What even is the value of a DSLR anymore? What even is the purpose of our jobs when almost anyone can take a decent photo on their phone?

Then came AI, and the threats accelerated. Now, a design or an image can be created instantly with just a prompt. Work that once took hours of thinking, planning, and crafting can be generated in seconds.

Where does that leave us?

My traditional paintings, especially my acrylic work, are now mimicked by digital brushes and layering techniques. What once required mastery of color mixing and brush control is now replicated with a tap and a drag. Traditional artists resisted this shift, often dismissing digital artists as “fake.” But they hadn’t seen the coming of AI, something that would challenge their value even more.

In my case, I’ve never been confident drawing human portraits. Digital tools allowed me to work around this by cartoonizing or drawing over images, something traditional media never gave me room to do. I took advantage of it, but then I started worrying about copyright. I wasn’t sure where the lines were drawn, no pun intended. AI then became a kind of blessing, offering references I could use legally, though even that is still a grey area.

So here we are today, facing AI’s rapid rise, watching our work being consumed literally at the touch of a button. Just press “Enter” after typing a command.

But if you think about it, can we even call it art?

We now compete with machines, hoping to be chosen in a world that’s slowly losing its appreciation for the human form and the human touch. Even my writing has been affected. As a creative writer, I’ve become more productive because AI has helped me put my thoughts into words I never thought possible. I can fine-tune my work quickly. I no longer need an editor because grammar checks and flow suggestions are done instantly. But in that efficiency, someone else’s job, someone’s years of experience, becomes less necessary.

All these shifts in such a short time during my lifetime make me wonder what past generations were doing. How has so much changed so quickly? And more importantly, what is to come?

What happens to our creative exploration?
Are we doomed to rely entirely on machines?
Or is our work still relevant?

Maybe the question isn’t about fighting the tools but learning how to use them wisely. Maybe the key is in finding balance, not replacing the human touch, but amplifying it.