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We live in a strange, almost sci-fi moment. Algorithms write poems, conjure paintings out of thin air, and compose music that sounds like it's been lifted from some lost vinyl record. Artificial Intelligence is everywhere, reshaping industries one by one - and art has not escaped its reach.

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So here is the uncomfortable question: if machines can do it, why does the human hand still matter?
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I have been watching this shift with a mix of fascination and unease. AI is undeniably powerful - it can sort, optimise, remix, sometimes even spark an idea. But when it comes to art, the work that stops me in my tracks usually comes from a lived experience, not a predictive model.
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For me personally, art is not just an image, a melody or a clever composition. It is the shaky hand before the brush hits the canvas. The moment a musician forgets a chord and somehow turns it into magic. It is the rawness of failure. And these are things a machine can never fully know, because of the rich backstory that lies behind human emotions.
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Supporting human artists has a new sense of urgency - not as some nostalgic defence of the past, but because our culture needs people who look at the world through empathy, contradiction, and doubt. We need voices that bend the rules, break the language, and embrace the rough edges. The very things AI, by design, tends to smooth away.
When I collect work, I am not hunting for flawless execution - I am drawn to risk. To imperfection. To a presence you can feel even if it cannot be explained. Supporting emerging artists isn't about keeping tradition alive for its own sake, but about making sure the future is shaped by people, not pattern recognition.

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ModernForms was built around that idea. Every artist we work with reminds me that creativity is not a product. It is a process - sometimes.  chaotic, often unmarketable, always unpredictable. And that's the point!

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I’m not afraid of AI. I am afraid of forgetting the difference between simulation and soul. Between convenience and complexity. Between data and depth.

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Human creativity is not a bug in the system. It is our last, stubborn way of saying: we were here.

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And no algorithm will ever really know what that feels like.

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