It’s like the story of countless revolutions—beginning with optimization, ending in monopolization.

It came quietly. And perhaps that’s what makes it more dangerous. Collaboration? Not quite. More like submission.

It enters the realm of creativity, eliminating chance, error, and process. It is an apparatus of correctness, cutting away everything that does not fit the mold. We, the creators, held in its grasp, become predictable, repetitive, bland. We already see it happening—images replicating the same aesthetic formulas, where every visual phrase is safe, every thought—alike.

This wounds us. It is treated as a substitute, an alternative, a kind of efficiency booster, a productivizer. No struggle, no improvisation, no risk. No emotion, no surprise, no unpredictability.

And yet, it is precisely chance, error, and imperfection that give creativity its life. By eliminating mistakes, we lose what is most valuable in the process—the organic chaos, the tension, the discovery. We allow production to dictate its pace and style, rather than opening new possibilities.

So maybe this is the moment. Not of technological revolution, but of epistemological one. It has begun to impose a way of thinking—a filter on reality, a prism of acceptable forms and content. It is not about images and words; it is about the world we navigate. A paradigm homogenizing itself to the level of algorithmic correctness—without edges, without risk. It is not the first time we have fallen for the illusion of progress, which, in truth, is merely a new form of constraint. History repeats itself—from totalitarian art, bound to a single narrative, to the standardization of media and mass culture.

History echoes its own refrain. Revolutions meant as awakenings end in dogma. From totalitarian narratives to today’s standardization of media—without reflection, without critique, revolution becomes a mechanism of control.

This is no longer just a matter of tools but of thought itself. When technology dictates the final form of our visions, we lose something irreplaceable—the ability to question, to provoke, to authentically express human unease.

This is not about rejection. Not about fear, not about doomerism. But perhaps about resistance. Instead of producing more sterile, predictable forms, we should approach this as a struggle—a process where something real can happen. A challenge, not a solution. Maybe it’s time to create in a way that does not end with generation but reaches for reinterpretation, destruction, and reconstruction. Of form, but also of our own approach.

When we stop struggling, the result is boredom, repetition, convenience. A convenience that kills invention, that pulls us away from the effort of thinking. What has arrived is becoming a substitute for reflection, for the restless spark of imagination. If we let it decide for us, we might as well say goodbye to any authentic artistic expression. My hand or yours will no longer matter—because the decisions will be made earlier, elsewhere.

This takes effort; it was never easy. Creativity has always required a fight. Perhaps what we see around us is the gradual retreat of the human from the creative process. Perhaps we are already at the edge—becoming mere operators. Operators of tools and systems.

Resistance. Establish, provoke, experiment. Do not allow inhumanly swift finalization—treat it as a part of the discussion. Force the necessity of improvisation, of deliberate non-direction. Use errors and anomalies as value, not as defect. Because only in a space where risk exists can something emerge that escapes the mold, that is not just another perfectly optimized replica.

The question is—do we still have the courage to reclaim this process? Can we find the strength not to succumb to the allure of convenience and speed? Are we capable of restoring the value of error, chance, and imperfection? Perhaps in these very elements lies the true essence of action—the force that makes art and design alive, dynamic. A world where surprise, risk, and individuality still have a place.
Technology is merely a tool. Will it serve our creativity, or will it constrain it? Will we allow ourselves the space for experimentation, mistakes, and discovery?

Reflection—the struggle for meaning, the pursuit of essence—this is what makes us human. Against the binary, against the predetermined. Do not let it be taken from us. Do not turn the fruits of our labor into mere products. Let us be heard, let our thoughts matter.

We—our ability to think, to feel, to create. And our battle for individuality, for creativity, for our right to error and discovery. Because only then can our actions be truly alive and authentic. Full of deliberate non-direction.