The Age of Infinite Possibilities

How the democratization of creativity will transform our work

Things are changing

And we’ve been here before

In my second last year of university, I was learning photography on a film camera and developing prints in a darkroom. Digital cameras had just entered the market and a great shift was happening. These new cameras saved people time and money and empowered anyone to capture decent photos (and videos) with relative ease. Naturally, the photography and film industries were shaken. Artists and entrepreneurs who had spent decades building their portfolios had to consider whether their work still had value or if they were about to lose their jobs.

The changes didn’t happen all at once. First, point-and-shoot digital cameras were introduced to the mass market, then, slowly, phone cameras became more sophisticated, to the point where the average person could capture and edit a great photo by any standard. What was once an art form accessible to those with well-honed skills and fancy equipment, transformed into an almost daily practice of capturing ourselves and the world around us, and soon after, posting it for everyone to see, like, and comment on.

More recently, Canva, the platform that enables anyone to easily bring beautiful visuals to life, transformed the creative world by removing the barriers that come with using graphic design and illustration tools like Adobe. Canva produces incredible results in a fraction of the time and cost it would take to create the same work by hiring professionals or using other tools. I know how to use the more advanced tools and I still prefer to use Canva because it’s easier.  

Platforms like Substack, Wattpad, and Medium have revolutionized the way we write, publish, and consume content. From building and monetizing your own newsletter to growing a dedicated community of subscribers to securing publishing deals, these tools have enabled everyone from the curious writer to the professional writer to turn their knowledge, ideas, and stories into impactful, audience-building hobbies and vocations. 

These are just a few examples, but there are many more tools that have changed how we create. Their shared attributes point to a future where, for better or for worse, our skills—and the years we spent developing them—may not matter as much as we thought.

That’s a terrifying prospect for those of us who’ve invested significant time and resources becoming great at something, only to have a machine sweep in and replicate or even surpass human quality with remarkable speed.

The future is unknown

But it doesn’t have to scare us

When I was operating a full-time photography and creative studio and experiencing the shifts in the industry first-hand, I had to confront the reality that the value of my work was decreasing. Not my value as an artist, but how people perceived the value of my work, which impacted what, and where, they were willing to invest. New photographers were popping up everywhere offering all-in-one packages for a fraction of what my packages cost. Clients started requesting digital files, which I knew would either end up never being printed, or printed at the cost of craft and quality. The care that I infused in my work, the process I had cultivated, the local businesses I partnered with, were all slowly unraveling.

The entrepreneur in me saw the opportunities, I built out two complementary businesses, one teaching folks how to capture great photos on their cameras and smartphones, and the other to capture mid-market clients, both of which were successful. But over time, it became clear to me: pivot or die. The changes I had to make to stay relevant were too drastic—either submit to the digital revolution, reduce my prices, and increase my volume or find a unique way to differentiate myself and cater only to high-end clients. I did not have the interest to invest long-term in either of those paths.

The collective anxiety around the future of work is real and it’s valid. We’re experiencing a moment in history where new AI apps and tools are being introduced daily and it all feels strangely familiar to me. This is unprecedented innovation (I’m careful not to call it progress, because it may not be). It’s not just one industry transforming, it’s every industry changing at once. 

While we have every right to be skeptical, I think we can look to our recent history to predict where these changes could lead us. There are legitimate reasons to be concerned and to be hopeful—or at least remain curious. 

While the digital revolution in photography and film didn’t obliterate photographers and filmmakers, it did force many of us to adapt or change course. And more broadly, technology profoundly altered how we capture and share the moments of our lives, making capturing our worlds more accessible and efficient for everyone.

Canva didn’t wipe out graphic designers and illustrators, nor did it put Adobe out of business. But it did change the way we think about design, who gets to design, and how quickly and seamlessly we can share our visual ideas with the world. It also forced players like Adobe to reduce their prices and make their software more accessible to creators.

Editors are still working, agents are searching for their next best-seller, and publishers continue giving writers advances to write their books. The industry has changed, but it hasn’t disappeared, if anything, it’s expanded to include more people. 

The impact is not binary. Across industries, people did lose jobs and transition their careers, by choice or by circumstance, and new jobs and industries were created due to new technologies. More of our lives and our world is being captured than ever before—people around the world are sharing their stories and perspectives, and as a result, we’re expressing more, learning more, and experiencing more of what the world has to offer. There are many designers who are leveraging Canva in their workflows, giving them the ability to take on more clients, and produce high-quality work in less time. And more people are writing and self-publishing, contributing to the collective body of human knowledge—what was once available to a select few is now available to almost everyone with a device and a wifi signal. 

While our careers will undoubtedly be impacted by new tools and technologies, the democratization of creativity is something we can look forward to, because the past points to a future where more people get to do what they love, with more ease and agency. 

Existing in-between worlds

It will be what it will be, and what we make it

I was sharing with a friend the other day how I feel in 2020 we collectively entered liminal space and that my guess is we’ll be there for at least another 4-6 years. In this in-between state we loosen our grip on reality and have the potential to shape a new world, but ‘new’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘better’, and something about that feels unnerving. 

What we do in these next few years—how we respond to change, how we resist, adopt, leverage, and disrupt—will birth our new reality.

So, what might happen when technology enables anyone to create anything they can imagine? And what will happen when AI can create things only humans used to have the capacity to create?

Here’s my best guess:

• More people will make things.

• New creative mediums will emerge. Hard to imagine, but it will happen.

• Creation will become more accessible. That idea you had for an animated short film 10 years ago will become more tangible because it won’t cost you $250K and 3 years to make.

• There will be a lot more noise. As creation increases, so will consumption. It'll get a lot harder to stand out in the sea of noise, and the difference between good, great, and exceptional will matter more than ever. Platforms we currently use to share our creative work (e.g. Instagram) will become oversaturated and they’ll be forced to change to give us more ‘air time’. They may introduce subscription fees, or new platforms will emerge for more ‘professional’, ‘established’, or ‘notable’ creatives.

• Mediocrity will become rampant. There will be a lot of bad creative work, a lot of creative work that looks like other creative work, and a shit ton of copyright infringement until we figure out how to navigate our new-found ‘skills’. 

• Jobs will be lost and new jobs will emerge. Every major revolution has transformed the nature of work, this one will too. Joanna went viral for saying, “You know what the biggest problem with pushing all-things-AI is? Wrong direction. I want AI to do my laundry and dishes so that I can do art and writing, not for AI to do my art and writing so that I can do my laundry and dishes.” The upside is that AI will eventually do your laundry and dishes, the downside(?) is it’ll also write and make art.

• Human-made will become really cool. At first, most of the shift will focus on digital creative work—this will change as machines learn how to paint for real, but even then, human-made creative work will go up in value because a lot less people will have the skills for it.  

• New ways to make money will emerge. Which is great news for most of us, not so great news for this person selling digital colouring books on Etsy. 

I could go on. We’ll be overstimulated and bored at the same time. We’ll think of a great idea and before we have a chance to give birth to it, someone else will have. We’ll find new ways to collaborate, innovate, procrastinate. The possibilities are endless and none of them are guaranteed. 

All won’t be lost

We know how to preserve what is sacred

Some time after the great shift and after I’d transitioned my career, I noticed some photographers had started to position themselves as ‘film photographers’ and charge exorbitant amounts of money for their work. The more accessible digital photography became and the more people became photographers, the more craft, experience, and traditional processes and tools were valued. 

This makes me believe that as more of us gain the ability to bring our ideas to life with or through technology, human craftsmanship and expertise will gain more reverence—because we tend to value what is rare.

My bet is that the art and intricacy of ‘hand-made’ will not sell its soul to technology, because we won’t allow it. Sure, an AI can design a necklace and 3D print it in less time with less overhead and a drone can drop-ship it to your house. There’s value in that, but it will never replace the value of a handcrafted statement piece, made by an artist who’s been practicing beadwork for 20 years. Or at least I hope it won’t. 

There will be space for both the fast food and the fermented version of creative work, and that will have net positive impact because creativity will become available and accessible to more people. 

What I’m realizing as I write this is that the photos on my iPhone, the Polaroid print I have on my fridge, and the professional prints from my sister’s wedding are all intrinsically connected—regardless of how they were produced, or who they were produced by, they serve as portals to our innermost selves and conduits for capturing and sharing our ideas, experiences, and narratives with the world. They are all valuable in their own way.

I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like had I continued to practice photography and operate my business, but I never look back and wish I had made a different choice. I followed my instinct and curiosity, and it led me to places, people, and opportunities I couldn’t have imagined for myself. I think that’s the beautiful thing about change, regardless of how it happens or how you meet it, it will change you, and all change leads us closer to the truth. Not to mention, when my friends send me a photo of their kids on WhatsApp, I’m reminded that this interaction, and the profound joy it brings me, is only made possible by technology—the same technology that prompted me to transition my career over a decade ago.

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