Let’s get something straight.
The entire history of human creativity is a long, winding story of imitation. It’s the foundation upon which every art form has been built, refined, and expanded. Whether we’re talking about poetry, painting, music, or dance, the process has always been the same: mimic, absorb, transform.
And this isn’t just a romantic notion about how we learn. It’s baked into the law. It’s perfectly legal to create new works in the style of any artist. Whether that artist is long dead or currently sitting in their studio, toiling away. What’s protected is the work itself—not the style. Not the techniques or aesthetic language. Not the essence of the work’s appeal.
Yet, for the first time, we are witnessing a determined effort to undermine that long-standing right. And not because of some newfound principle or legitimate concern. But because of a land grab by corporate rights-holders hoping to gain control over something they’ve never been entitled to own.
To be clear, the outrage about AI-generated art is not really about art at all. It’s about power. Specifically, the power to control not only what’s created, but how it’s created.
Here’s the truth of it: As long as new works aren’t infringing on specific, protected works, creators are free to mimic all the traits of Studio Ghibli or Sarah Silverman or anyone else they choose. Not because the law has a blind spot, but because that’s exactly how we as a society want it to be.
The law is clear about this, and for good reason. Style is not something you can own. No one owns the techniques of hand-drawn animation or the cadence of a particular comedic delivery. No one owns the artistic sensibilities of impressionism, the eye-shapes of Pixar or Ghibli movies, or the drawl of a character. The law protects specific works, not the general aesthetic choices those works exemplify.
And this is not some loophole to be closed. It’s a fundamental feature of how creativity functions and thrives. The right to imitate, adapt, and build upon the styles of others is what drives artistic progress. It’s the very engine of innovation.
But if you listen to the rhetoric coming from corporate rights holders, you’d think the opposite was true. The talk is always about “theft,” about the violation of some sacred artistic purity that must be defended at all costs. What they’re really afraid of, though, is that people will use AI tools to make things that are too appealing, too compelling, too popular—without their permission.
And if that sounds paranoid, consider the actions being taken. Corporate rights holders are lobbying for entirely new rights—rights they’ve never had before. Rights to claim ownership over a style, an aesthetic, a general approach to creativity. Rights that, if granted, would not only stifle the explosion of creative work made possible by AI but would also threaten the entire cultural ecosystem that has always relied on free imitation and adaptation.
It’s not just about preserving their control over specific works. It’s about creating a system where any work that even feels like it could be competing with their existing properties can be stamped out before it ever reaches an audience. And if they have to reframe legal, protected imitation as infringement to do it, they will.
They’re not even being subtle about it. The fearmongering is naked, blatant, and performed with the kind of straight-faced sincerity you’d expect from someone asking you to pay a monthly fee to breathe.
They’ll tell you it’s about protecting creators from exploitation. They’ll tell you it’s about preserving artistry from the ravages of cold, unfeeling algorithms. Algorithms that exist only due to an original sin—having read and analyzed copyrighted works. But what they’re really worried about is that an AI-using creator might attract a sizable audience—an audience they want to keep for themselves.
And if that sounds harsh, consider the implications. What they’re arguing for, is a rollback of creative rights we currently have. A preemptive strike against anyone using AI tools to create something new that might bear too much resemblance to something already established.
But that’s not how creativity works. It never has been.
The voracious adoption of AI creation tools by artists of all types is putting the world on the cusp of a flowering of creativity and invention on a scale we haven’t seen since the Renaissance. And likely even more significant than that.
Never before have so many people had access to tools capable of generating high-quality art, music, literature, and more. Tools that allow artists to explore ideas they might never have been able to bring to life on their own. Tools that, crucially, do not care about pedigree, status, or institutional approval.
The argument that AI tools threaten creativity is the exact inverse of the truth. They are a profound enhancement of it. They are making it easier for more people to engage in creative work, to experiment, to imitate, to discover their own voices through the very process of learning from others.
And sure, not all of what gets made will be great. Most of it won’t be. But that’s not the point. The point is that creativity is not and has never been about protecting what already exists. It’s about opening the door to what might come next.
And yet, here we are, watching as corporate rights holders attempt to convince us that all of this progress is somehow a problem. That the only real art is the art they control. That the only legitimate creativity is the creativity they approve. If they could only convince us that something all artists have done since time immemorial should now be outlawed, they could own styles. And then it’s an ice age for creative production.
And it’s working. The public is being drawn into a false dichotomy, led to believe that the mere act of using AI tools to create something is somehow wrong, somehow corrupt. As if the tool itself is the problem, rather than the particular ways in which it’s used.
But creativity is a right. And that right includes the freedom to use tools—any tools—to make new works in any style one chooses. The courts have always recognized this. And if they continue to do so, the flood of creativity unleashed by AI will transform our culture in ways we can barely imagine.
But if we allow corporate interests to redefine what constitutes infringement, to broaden the definition to include anything that feels too similar, then we will have made a grave mistake. We will have traded the possibility of a new Renaissance for a sterile, pay-to-play marketplace where only the wealthy and well-connected are allowed to innovate.
And that’s the real danger here. Not that AI will replace creativity, but that creativity will be shackled by artificial limits placed on what people are allowed to create. Limits dictated not by merit or originality or artistic integrity, but by profit margins.
Let’s not be fooled. The real battle isn’t between artists and machines. It’s between creativity and the fear of losing control over it. And if we allow that fear to dictate what’s permissible, we will have lost something far more valuable than any particular style or work.
We will have lost the very freedom that makes creativity possible.
That’s the part that matters. And that’s what we need to protect. Your right to imitate whoever you like, to embrace and extend, to ridicule, to discover a better way, to do what all creators have been doing since that first handprint on a cave wall: connect with fellow human beings, and then take them further.
Don’t let them manipulate us. Moneyed interests have figured out how to weaponize our good intentions. They know most of us genuinely care about artists’ rights—about not stealing someone’s work, about giving credit where it’s due. So they’ve found a way to twist that instinct, like stage-hands tilting the scenery to hide the real con.
They cry “theft!” whenever someone uses AI tools to make something inspired by an existing style, hoping we’ll all panic and rally to their side. But it’s not theft. It’s not even an injustice. It’s the engine of creativity—the messy, joyful, legally-protected process that’s driven human invention for centuries. And they want it outlawed. Not to protect artists, but to protect their own ability to profit from styles they never owned before.
They want to corral us into defending their monopolies by preying on our natural desire to defend creators. It’s a con, and if we fall for it, we’re the ones who’ll pay the price.
This is not a rant. It’s a plea. Argue with it. Call me a crank or a stooge, if you want. Just don’t swallow all the fear-mongering without at least chewing on it first.
Copyright © 2025 by Paul Henry Smith
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