Will AI out-entertain us?
As AI-generated media overwhelms human output, one question remains: what becomes of art?
“Art, Literature and Poetry are the vocal cords of society”
These words from Javed Akhtar resonated deeply with me. He illustrated this with a haunting example: how we might protest the killing of tigers as inhumane, yet consider fishing a peaceful pastime.
“Have you ever heard, ‘Stop fishing?’ Fishing is supposed to be some kind of entertainment in tranquility. No violent sound… Gentle hai. The fisherman starts skinning the fish with a blunt knife. Nobody calls it sadistic, inhuman, or cruel”.
Akhtar suggests this is because fish have no vocal cords. They cannot scream as they are dismembered. In contrast, art, literature, and poetry give voice to the silent. They are how society screams when it is in pain. And a culture that neglects them may find itself voiceless when it, too, needs to cry out.
Vocal cords of ones and zeros
In the last few years we’ve seen a remarkable change in how we create media. We’re entering an era where entertainment can be generated on demand. A single prompt can conjure up a song in any genre, a painting in any style, even a believable video of a person who never existed. AI doesn’t get tired. It doesn’t lose confidence. It doesn’t have a bad writing day.
And this is only the beginning. We’re on the verge of a new kind of hyper-entertainment - experiences that once felt like science fiction. Imagine stepping into your favourite film, not just watching it but becoming a character who shapes the story. Picture a whodunnit so perfectly tailored that no human mind could have written it - because it was written just for you. Or a new song by your favourite artist, generated on the spot, crafted to match your exact mood in that exact moment.
But beneath all of that will lie ones and zeros. AI, no matter how advanced, can replicate the form of art, but not its origin. It can imitate feeling, but it cannot feel. It does not grieve, or yearn, or fall in love. It has no memory, no childhood, no fear of death. And so, while it can mimic the shape of beauty, it lacks the bruises that give art its soul. Human art is not just output - it is outcry. It’s messy, inconsistent, and deeply personal. And that’s what makes it matter.
In a world where content is cheap and infinite, it’s meaning that becomes rare. The more we’re surrounded by machine-made perfection, the more we may begin to crave the imperfect - work that bears the fingerprints of real people. A burger mass-produced in a factory might be consistent, even delicious, but it will never earn a Michelin star. A burger crafted by a seasoned chef might not be technically superior, but it carries something else: intent. Memory. A point of view. In the same way, the artist of the future may no longer be defined by the act of creating from scratch, but by their ability to provoke - to use the same tools as AI, but wield them to confront, to console, to witness.
Art Without a Pulse
AI art has undeniably captured my curiosity. I’ve used it to make music in genres I’d never have touched otherwise, to add playful embellishments to dull projects, and to breathe life into old photos by turning them into moving images. It was entertaining, no doubt about that. But did I ever value those creations more than something made with care, intention, and a human touch? Not even close.
So, do I think AI will out-entertain us? Yes, I do. But will that silence the artist? No - because in a world of synthetic voices, we’ll need our vocal cords more than ever.
Footnote
The article above is a slight effort to collect my thoughts about a topic that I’m very torn about. I would love your feedback, especially since its my first article!
On a different note - I’ll be at the Annecy Film Festival all of next week, so will aim to write about what I get up to. See you then!