While people are busy losing their heads over AI, I’m sanding back a thrifted shelf on the kitchen floor. Whoever painted it years ago chose a deep burgundy and the colour does little for its new spot in the bathroom. With a hacksaw I blazed my way through a few buried nails and took out a crossbeam at the base that was so structurally overkill only an engineer could have chosen to put it there. The crossbeam was serviceable, granted, but utilitarian and heavy-set. It looks lighter on its feet now. I haven’t yet decided what colour I’ll paint it, or if I even will, but in the meantime back to the bare wood we go.
Maybe that’s what we designers do. We develop an eye for what needs to be removed and what needs to stay, what to adjust or get rid of entirely. It can be as much about choosing to remove things and going back to basics as it is refining and polishing what’s there. More than that, there’s enjoyment in the making process. I couldn’t get that same reward of satisfaction by any other means. Have I fallen for the IKEA effect? Probably.
I have a good mate who publishes a fortnightly newsletter. It’s full of humour, natural wit and articles written by friends on all manner of engaging topics. As I craft wood, she crafts words. She takes great enjoyment from it. In her role as Editor in Chief she gets to choose which lines to leave in and which to take out until she is able to illuminate the golden thread that runs elegantly through each voice. She finds the heart of what they are wanting to share, intuits what readers desire to read, constantly reins in runaway tangents, and still manages to retain the quirkiest, most charming idiosyncrasies of any Tom, Dick or Harry who takes to the floor. Chat GPT is her grammar tweaker and sense checker, but only in the role of a tool, not as a creative. Forgive me, but giving full control to Chat GPT would too readily stifle the individual charm.
Don’t hear me wrong. What AI can do? It’s dang cool. It’s the new kid on the block who rocks up each day in a new and even more flashy outfit, hoisting a boom box over his shoulder playing beats he wrote himself, and you have to admit they’re catchy. Everyone crowds around wanting his limelight. And this dogsbody is as eager as a Labrador! But if you give all the fun jobs over to him we’ll end up like the immobile human race in WALL-E. Give him your spreadsheets and taxes. And if you happen to love that stuff, then give him your meal prep. He’ll be in the kitchen soon enough.
One can get from A to B pretty efficiently without the task needing to be enjoyed.
The dreamer within me can’t help crying out in response, where’s the humanity in that? Can we still call that kind of work craft? I acknowledge I’m talking from a seat of privilege here, but let me propose a definition of craft as something that not only exercises skill in the making, but also involves an undeniable streak of joy. A touch of delight that has the ability to light up what we set our hands to. Salt that brings forth the flavour. Does that make craft uniquely a human domain? Perhaps it does. We are alike, we craftsmen, in that passion and enjoyment set us alight. We create, muse, remove and refine. And things come to life because of it. Unfortunately, that is just something a thirsty warehouse in Texas can’t replicate. Use AI as your tool, your PA, or your dogsbody, but don’t let it usurp your seat.
Let AI sharpen your pencils so you can craft the joy.