Lessons from Switzerland - Circa 1970.
Imagine a small, Swiss village in the year 1970. A cozy, warm workshop nestled in the heart of the Jura mountains, where a watchmaker named Jean-Charles is bent over his workbench, his skilled hands coaxing beauty and precision out of metal and springs. Every tick of the watches he created was a testament to his artistry, each piece an heirloom destined to mark the passage of time for generations. For Jean-Charles, life was steady, methodical, and secure. Of course, people would always need to know the time, and there was no substitute for craftsmanship like his.
But on the other side of the world, in Japan, a quiet revolution was brewing. Seiko, a burgeoning watch company, had unveiled a new technology: the quartz movement. Lacking the intricate gears and delicate springs of mechanical watches, quartz watches were cheap, durable, and, most importantly, accurate. Jean-Charles dismissed them as a novelty, a mere toy unworthy of his attention. His creations, imbued with tradition and care, surely had nothing to fear from such mass-produced trinkets.
However, as months turned to years, Jean-Charles began to notice subtle changes. His clientele, once composed of loyal patrons who valued his craftsmanship, started to dwindle. The once-infinite market for his artistry shrank as more people turned to the affordable, reliable alternatives. The very essence of his work, time itself, had been commodified, and the artisan who refused to adapt watched his livelihood fade away.
Today, I feel like our creative industries stand at a similar crossroads. The rise of AI in art and design echoes the quartz revolution, offering cheap and efficient solutions at an unprecedented scale. Like the quartz watches of the 1970s, AI art is reshaping industries by making production cheap and accessible to the masses, and the challenge for someone like myself is how to adapt in a way that maintains marketability and a creative heart in this changing landscape. I find myself returning to the quartz crisis of the 1970s and trying to learn from those valuable lessons gleaned from the massive changes to a tangential industry.
In order to set the stage a bit more concretely than with our fictional Jean-Charles, lets look at some facts about the watch industry, pre-crisis. Before the 1970s, mechanical watches were the only option for keeping time - complex, intricate, beautiful objects of springs, gears, and rubies that ticked away methodically as if they were breathing things themselves. The Swiss watch industry produced around 40 million units a year and employed nearly 90,000 people. In the 10 years after the quartz watch was introduced by Seiko, the number of workers in the watch industry fell by 50% and the number of units produced fell to just 3 million. The industry effectively collapsed while at the same time, exploding in popularity as more people could afford watches than ever before. They moved, rapidly, from being a novelty - an heirloom, to being something easily bought, used, and discarded when it was time to buy another. It seems like a perfect allegory for the shift in art production we are experiencing now in the commercial marketing space - rapid, cheap production that works well enough to get from one campaign to the next.
As an artist, I can’t deny the allure of AI-generated art for brands and agencies alike. The efficiency and cost-effectiveness are clear, especially in a world where budgets are stretched thin, deadlines become ever more restricted, and attention spans of audiences seem to be in constant decline. It makes sense why companies gravitate toward tools that can produce visually impressive content almost instantly, meeting the demand for quick results while keeping costs low. I get it — it’s practical, logical, and competitive.
That being said, I feel an undeniable resistance to relying solely on this approach. Perhaps it’s idealistic, or maybe it’s because I’m too connected to the process, but I need to believe in a world where intention, storytelling, and care still hold value. To me, there’s something profoundly meaningful about art that comes from time and thought, art that is touched by human hands and shaped by human experience. A carefully crafted campaign or animation is more than just a fleeting visual—it’s a story that resonates, one that leaves an enduring mark because of the effort and heart that went into it. Even if I’m mistaken about where the industry is heading, I’d rather hold on to the belief that deliberate, meaningful work has a place in shaping a more thoughtful and enduring creative landscape.
The quartz crisis showed that survival in a radically shifting industry often requires adaptability and a focus on what sets you apart. Companies like Omega and Vacheron Constantin are perfect examples of this. Vacheron Constantin doubled down on craftsmanship and exclusivity, solidifying its place in the luxury market. Omega, on the other hand, adopted a more versatile approach - while continuing to produce their iconic mechanical watches, they also embraced quartz technology for some offerings. This allowed them to remain relevant in a new era while staying true to their reputation for precision and quality.
Similarly, I see AI as a tool that must be incorporated into my workflow, not as a replacement for artistry, but as an enhancement. Just as Omega used quartz movements to complement its traditional craftsmanship, I think AI needs to be adapted into a lot of pipelines to stay relevant and competitive in our changing industry. AI offers potential as a partner in creativity, not as the driver of it. My goal is to adapt, like the watchmakers who survived the quartz crisis, by leveraging technology while ensuring the heart and soul of my work remain deeply human.
As an artist, this year has been a process of recognizing this pivotal moment we are living in, much like the Swiss watchmakers during the quartz crisis. It’s a time to reflect on what makes my work irreplaceable: the heart I pour into it, the intention behind my decisions, and the unique stories only I can tell, stories I have lived. Those are the qualities that make me unique, and they are what will set my work apart in a world flooded with rapid, mass-produced creations. At the same time, I recognize that it is crucial to explore ways to embrace AI tools without losing my creative identity. Generative AI is not a solution to marketing problems in itself - even if some agencies are trying to treat it as such in these early days of adaptation. But as an artist, it is vividly evident that the opportunities it offers, even if counter-intuitive to the traditional approach to creation, will help to elevate what can be created if leveraged in a responsible way.
There’s hope in this challenge. The Swiss watch industry regained its footing by leaning into its core strengths, emphasizing artistry, precision, and legacy. Similarly, artists who remain true to their vision and values can find ways to thrive in this evolving landscape. As we navigate this era of rapid change, let’s remember that human creativity is not a relic—it’s a force of connection and meaning. It endures, even when the tools we use evolve, because it speaks to something timeless within us all.
I came of age as an artist during the rise of digital photography and 3D animation - tools that many traditional artists feared would disrupt and destroy their craft in their early days. Like many others, I have a natural tendency to protect the domain I work in, to defend it from the changes that threaten it. But the very domain I occupy is still incredibly young and evolving. What truly sets me apart are the ideas I bring to life, not the medium or technology behind them, and I have to believe that AI, in its many forms, will not replace those core ideas, and instead, it will amplify them, allowing me to create more effectively.
