The Art of craft
This week was unique. I experienced Adobe—once simply the toolkit of my formative years as a designer—transforming into a seamlessly connected ecosystem. It’s evolved from the visual cortex feast of design tools in sight, sound, and motion (its rich heritage) to an intricate data architecture humming quietly behind the scenes. Adobe today feels like a reverse mullet: party in the front (creative innovation), or perhaps business in the back (data-driven intelligence) or Art meets Science or Design meets Data—or whatever endless industry analogy shaping a new kind of creativity.
We are witnessing the rise of purpose-built AI tools placing human "need-states" squarely at the heart of creative workflows. Tools like Adobe’s GenStudio and Firefly demonstrate the promise of relegating repetitive tasks—like resizing content or generating iterations—to automated AI agents. Yet, it's not just productivity; it's about deep personalization. Technologies like Adobe Experience Platform Agent Orchestrator (it’s a mouthful) are creating realities where brand concierge agents offer immersive, conversational, personalized experiences, making every interaction memorable and impactful. In a landscape demanding more creativity, smaller budgets, and heightened efficiency, embracing these emerging tools isn't just smart—it's essential.
If these new emerging technologies enable us to create rapidly—freeing valuable time to slow down our minds and craft with deeper emotion across both backend efficiency and frontend creativity—then we have truly found a harmonious balance. Bravo!
Yet, amid this automation and technological advancement, I've found myself reflecting deeply on slow craft—the deliberate, thoughtful engineering of emotional responses. Consider the meticulous precision required to evoke powerful emotions through sound, the artistry behind creating an image that resonates deeply, or harnessing the subtle power of motion to inspire genuine emotion.
This isn't just theoretical; it's personal. I'm increasingly drawn to the consistent theme of nostalgia prevalent in new tech movements, underscoring the undeniable importance of live experiences—events, music, performance, theater, art—each offering an irreplaceable emotional depth. I'm captivated by the allure of creating something truly unique—an edition of one, standing firmly against the tide of mass-produced, fast fashion, where appreciation for the labor and meticulous craft of tailored clothing redefines value. I cherish time spent immersed in liner notes on albums or, in my own recent journey, writing and publishing a book amid an ocean of fleeting digital artifacts. Slow craft, slow movements, and slow storytelling hold the power to deeply capture hearts and minds, becoming a fresh form of luxury in our rapidly paced world.
I have a personal philosophy—a Shingism—I call "Designalogue." This approach involves crafting brands not merely through traditional components but through thoughtfully designed elements fostering a continuous dialogue with consumers. Intelligent brands embed subtle, subliminal messaging into cultural contexts, shaping conversations and perceptions quietly yet powerfully. Apple's meticulous attention to design consistency and emotional connection is a profound example of Designalogue in practice.
Passivity in today's digital landscape is no longer viable. We're in a vibrant marketplace of ideas and technology, where everyone must actively contribute, innovate, and lead. The rules of engagement have irrevocably changed.
Automation is inevitable. If something can be automated, it will be—not a question of "if," but "when." Reflecting on my journey from analog to digital underscores this profound transformation. My early days as a classically trained graphic designer were filled with tactile tools—bromides, Pantone markers, Letrasets—and a physical tackle-box of technical pens, scalpels, and protractors. Yet, this tactile history informs my current embrace of deliberate, slow craft in a digital age.
Throughout history, declarations about the demise of painting (Paul Delaroche, 1840), God (Nietzsche, 1882), and cities (Jane Jacobs, 1961) have signaled profound transformations rather than actual endings. Similarly, creativity will not merely survive this AI revolution—it will thrive, reshaped and revitalized.
So while this week could have felt like a trip down memory lane, it was actually the inspiration I needed to clearly envision a future driven by artists and fueled by human emotions—crafting experiences that resonate deeply, authentically, and enduringly.
True artists always create, regardless of tools. Craft always cuts through.
Keep crafting.
March 24, 2025
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