Back in 2013, in my job as a communications office at the University of Oxford, I was involved in publicising a research paper by two young academics, Michael Osborne and Carl Frey. It predicted that nearly half of jobs would be at risk of automation over the next 10-20 years, thanks to advances in AI, machine learning and the growth of available data for computers to learn from. Needless to say, it garnered a lot of headlines but, despite the fact that this was serious academic research, it still seemed a remote possibility that a large number of highly-skilled, well-paid jobs might disappear in the very near future.
Fast forward to 2026, and something that seemed a long way off has most definitely arrived. Catching up with an old friend yesterday, he told me that his partner had been made redundant several months ago from his fraud investigation job at a major bank, thanks to - you guessed it - AI. What’s worse, all the other banks are doing the same thing, so finding another job in the same field is proving nigh on impossible. A recent report from the Office for National Statistics showed many young people were struggling to get onto the employment ladder, in part because AI is now capable of performing many of the tasks associated with first-job roles, such as processing data or writing reports.
So what about AI and artists? We know the art world isn’t immune to the march of AI, and as someone who spends hours, days, weeks on a piece of work, it’s horrible to see things for sale that have clearly been churned out using AI prompts. But - bear with me here - part of me thinks maybe it’s a good thing that people can access art more cheaply. Everyone should be able to buy beautiful, interesting things that make them happy. And some people won’t be bothered about who or what made the picture that’s hanging on their wall, and that’s okay. I know it’s not my job to fix the entire world (and this is certainly not where I’d start if it was!)
What I can do, however, is try and drill down to what’s special about art made by humans. Why do we still want handmade things? Why do we care about who made what? Because people definitely do still care, and I’ve been fortunate enough to experience, first-hand, that spark that makes someone want to buy a piece of art and find out about the person who created it.
I think that’s the true value in art that is handmade: the human connection. Someone feels the same way about a view that you love, and chose to make a painting of it. Someone captured something that can’t be put into words - a fleeting moment, or the light at a particular time of day - and it speaks to your heart. Someone’s choice of subject made you see something familiar in a whole new way. Someone mixes a particular shade of green and it stirs your soul. We’re all walking around on the same planet, but a lot of the time we’re isolated, even when we’re in company. But art can break that bubble of isolation and instantly create a meaningful connection to another person.
We also love storytelling, and we love to hear the stories of other humans, to see how they saw, feel the way they felt. No-one’s going to know, or care, if an AI algorithm suffers a terminal glitch (if that’s even a thing), in the way that we care about the struggles faced by Vincent Van Gogh or Frida Kahlo. When you buy a painting, a print, a piece of pottery or jewellery that’s handmade, it will always carry with it the echo of its owner. The marks, shapes, lines are the result of years of study and effort, of experimentation, of triumphs and disappointments, of skills being honed and ideas tried, revised, perhaps turned on their head and tried again.
The era of technology that’s brought us AI has also given artists more opportunities than ever to connect with people. Marketing and promotion doesn’t always sit easily with artists - many of us feel incredibly uncomfortable about putting ourselves out there for all the world to see, especially online - but people want to hear our stories, see our processes and let us know how much they love what we’re creating. The challenge as individuals is how to make ourselves heard above all the noise, and to find the people who care.
I’m so proud of having taken Made In Oxford from an idea to a reality, but the real work is going to be finding out what works in terms of marketing and connecting with the right audience. Like art it’s going to take daily practice, commitment, consistency and a willingness to try out new things. And like art, human connection has to be at the heart of it.
(P.S. In case you’re wondering, this blog was written entirely by a human!)