How to Survive the Future as an Artist
A host of filmmakers, novelists, and comic book writers from around the globe discuss how hopeful/despondent they feel about what's next for their mediums and industries
“Art is the agent best equipped to bring light to the world. That is its purpose. That is its promise.” — Nick Cave
Each month for the past year, I have posed a single question to several artists from around the globe, working in different mediums, and at different stages of their professional careers. The goal was to see what this wild plurality of perspectives would reveal about the creative process, the arts, and the lives of artists. It’s been an incredibly edifying, often moving experience for me. But after a year of wrangling dozens of contributors every month, it’s time to wrap this particular feature up. You’re currently reading the final edition in the series, and, as such, I wanted to use it to probe a final group of artists about their hopes and fears about their futures . Maybe after so much reflection, I thought it was time to look forward rather than backward. Let me explain…
Artists have the capacity to change the world, to produce understanding where once there was none, to heal wounds both personal and cultural that no science, no feat of social engineering could otherwise remedy. All you have to do is turn on the news, doom scroll through social media, or walk out the door to understand they have never been more needed in human history.
And yet, artists find themselves confronted today by the possibility that their preferred industries will soon collapse — perhaps for good — and, even if they don’t, there’s still a real fear that corporations will soon trade humans for AI to generate bigger profits. If “artist” does remain a vocation, increasingly it seems like it will be one limited to the most privileged or to individuals who forego any of the other pleasures in life such as family, healthy food, soap.
The simplest way to put it is: everything is terrible, both in the world in general and in the arts.
So, is there anything to feel optimistic about? Is it really all doom and gloom? Why try when there are so many other routes to happiness? This is subject I wanted to explore as I turn out the lights on this choral arts series, which brings me to the specific question I asked artists to consider and answer for me:
People have always talked about how this or that industry was on the brink of collapse, but it’s never felt truer in the arts than today as we face threats from tech, the collapse of many of our biggest companies, and entertainment monopolies. At the same time, history shows us that revolutions tend to interrupt these dark periods and reinvigorate what once appeared all but dead. So, tell me, right now – today – where do you fall on the spectrum of doom and hope?
Below, you will find the responses I received, which really do run the gamut between “Oh fuck, it’s all over!” and “It’s always darkest before the dawn”. In addition to the variety of mediums these artists create in, they represent a variety of voices and cultural backgrounds from across the globe - including the United States, the United Kingdom, Spain, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand. Hopefully, their perspectives and experiences will be of some help to you as you navigate the future coming our way whether we like it or not.
ZAK PENN (screenwriter, READY PLAYER ONE)
Even if I felt it, I don't believe in actively engaging in doom by saying a negative thing. There's no upside to doing that other than, “Oh no, the missiles are flying run for the bunker!” — that makes sense. But to say movies are going away? Listen, I reject that. People still want to go to movies, that’s really clear. This has been the most chaotic and most disturbing period in Hollywood since I've been here, that I will grant. It often feels like I have no idea which of these companies is going to survive or who's going to be making what — like, wait, this makes no sense, why would this company be making this thing that they can't afford to make? And then showing it in a way that they can't get any revenue from, chasing a Wall Street valuation that they're not going to get? There's usually a good explanation for why it's happening that way — no, I shouldn't say a good explanation. There's an explanation for why it's happening. There’s been quite a mad rush to the bottom that we've seen over the past decade of people embracing a streaming model because that's what worked in tech without realizing how much that was completely submarining the underpinnings of the whole business.
Then there’s AI. People say, “AI is going to be able to do our jobs and write a movie that's just as good as any movie the person writes.” I'm like, “Well, look, if that happens, then I'm going to watch a lot of cool AI movies.” But I don't see it happening in the near future. It seems like it's missing something, which is that audiences want to feel like they're connecting in some way with the artists that created the thing. Most of the stuff we talk about, whether it's music or movies or whatever, there is an intrinsic relationship with the artist. Taylor Swift isn't Taylor Swift in a vacuum. People don't listen to her music without knowing anything about her. Knowing something about her is crucial to it.
So, I have hope - always - for the future, and I feel like we're probably going through a very tough transition time, but people will still be making dramatic art. People are still going to be telling each other's stories — and that's not going to change.
Zak is a U.S.-based filmmaker. His thoughts here were excerpted from an upcoming artist-on-artist conversation that will be published at 5AM StoryTalk in January 2025.
DAVID MUÑOZ (screenwriter, “LOS FAVORITOS DE MIDAS”/ "THE MINIONS OF MIDAS”)
Well…I’m not very optimistic right now. I fear there’s a strong possibility AI is here to stay. And if that is not a harbinger of doom for all artists, I don’t know what it is. All most companies care about is profitability, and suddenly they have found a way of disposing of the annoying and expensive humans. What’s really depressing is, most of the money people have never understood what art is about. They don’t care it’s the way human beings express their deepest feelings and establish a connection with others until they stop being “others” and become “us”. They just want bland content to recruit new subscribers, so a cheap plagiarizing machine is a dream come true for them — and not the nightmare it really is.
And when you see James Cameron joining an AI company…well…it feels like a betrayal. That’s a guy I admired. Even when I haven’t loved one of his movies, I’ve always respected his ambition — and now he’s joined the enemy ranks. He’s fighting for Cyberdyne Systems now.
There’s a possibility AI gets regulated, but to expect that, you have to trust politicians, you have to believe they will fight for us, but…it’s hard to imagine it. Almost impossible. We will probably be sacrificed in the name of progress (I mean money, of course).
Meanwhile, outside the world of art and creativity, we are still killing each other, acting like we really want to start World War III right now. When you see children dying every day, it’s almost impossible to believe humanity deserves this beautiful planet we’re intent on destroying.
This is the first time in my life I haven’t cared about getting older. It makes me feel a little better to think maybe I won’t be here to see the worst of it. But sadly, my daughter will be.
And...how do I cope with all this awfulness? Well, I try to not think about tomorrow. Today I’m writing a script I love, and I’m enjoying getting lost in it. I’m also reading a great book, and there are lots of movies I want to see. All created by humans.
I just hope when AI rules the world or the bombs starts to fall, they find me lost in a story, connected to another human being, finding solace in knowing I’m not alone. Maybe that feeling art provides it’s the most important thing about it right now. Sometimes it gives us the strength to live we wouldn’t find otherwise.
Like David Bowie sang, I demand a better future. But right now I don’t think we will get it.
David is a Spain-based screenwriter.
MELINDA HSU (creator/showrunner, “TOM SWIFT”)
I share the concerns of many about the contraction of the TV industry and the political divisions in the U.S. and around the world. But what fills me with hope are: people, and the awareness that our circumstances do not define us. I am not a Buddhist, but I’ve been leaning on the Buddhist principle of our Buddha nature. Jack Kornfield has a guided meditation (available on SoundCloud) called “Align Yourself with Goodness”, and I’ve found it very helpful as a centering tool. The headline of the meditation is to remember and focus on the fact that at this very moment, billions of people are taking care of their loved ones; billions of people are doing something kind for someone else; billions of people are doing right by the planet in their own individual ways. That goodness is out there in the world at this very moment, and when you align yourself with that goodness, and when you remember that goodness is also your true and highest nature, that’s when you’re aligned with your Buddha nature.
When you center yourself in your Buddha nature - which includes your instinct and potential for right action - then you can see circumstances around you as just that: circumstances. Circumstances are separate from who you really are. So when you’re aligned with goodness, as Kornfield puts it, you can calm your heart and clearly see what needs to be done. And then you can mindfully proceed with integrity and intention, without letting outside circumstances colonize your heart. That’s what I’m doing these days — practicing mindfulness to stay centered and aligned with goodness, so that outside circumstances don’t colonize my heart.
Melinda is a U.S.-based screenwriter. She is also a sitting member of the Writers Guild of America West’s Board of Directors. You can read my artist-on-artist conversation with her here.
DARICK ROBERTSON (co-creator/artist, THE BOYS comic book)
I've lived with a feeling of doom most of my life. The pattern in my own life is that when things are finally looking up and I can see a path forward, something larger than me corrupts my plans. (Man plans, God laughs?) So, I've learned to keep things right-sized and focus on the present. What can I affect right here, right now? Because most of the time, the things I worry about don't come to pass. And living in regret is a waste of energy, because the past can't be changed, only healed.
Here's what I deeply believe: AI can’t actually create. AI will never feel the loss of a pet, experience a belly laugh, miss a friend, or mourn a parent. It can only observe humans doing these things, and therefore create hollow artwork. I recommend reading Kurt Vonnegut's Player Piano.
Humans have been around a long time and while we might be seeing the end of the horse-and-carriage era, it might also be that we're a long way from losing all the arts to machines.
The models and technology change, but people don't.
Darick is a U.S.-based comic book artist.
ROSEANNE LIANG (creator/director, “CREAMERIE”)
I think about the casually outrageous NZ$31.20 I just paid for a single movie ticket — and that was for a standard seat, not even one of the fancy reclining ones. I think about the 99% empty cinema for a huge studio film on a Friday night. I think about the business plan. I think about real estate. I think: once this cinema business fails and this place is sold, we can’t ever have it back again. Ever. And while I have no doubt that people will continue to need good movies, I think about how they may never see them in the dark, high-vaulted cinemas where I fell in love with film. I’m trying to mentally prepare for that eventuality, while knowing that when if it actually happens, I won’t be prepared at all for the strange, privileged grief over the death of something that is a ‘nice to have’, in a world that is struggling just to survive. That is me today, but maybe tomorrow will be better.
Roseanne is a New Zealand-based filmmaker.
LIZ ALPER (screenwriter/supervising producer, “BALLARD”)
I've been grieving a lot. I've dreamed of and loved Hollywood since I was sixteen years, and I've only just accepted that I don't and won't ever love it again. It was a realization very much like Elphaba's at the end of Wicked when she sees the Wizard for who he really is (I won't ruin the movie for anyone who hasn't seen it, but it's pretty timely). A version of Hollywood can and will survive, but I think the question now is, how much more sacrifice (financial and personal) will it take to stay? Because I've never seen this industry demand so much before in exchange for so little. That extreme is new and brutal, and it forces me to think about the sacrifices I've made already - time I could've spent with grandparents or family members before they passed, life moments with friends, etc. I think a lot of writers have heard stories about sitting next to someone's hospital bed, working frantically on a script that was still due despite the personal emergency. I think about sacrifices like that, and then look to the studios and employers we make those sacrifices for - how many people are still being overworked, underpaid, and taken advantage of in the name of "efficiency". Disney made 89 billion last year, and still laid off much of the Inside Out 2 internal staff before the movie came out. When the movie made over a billion, Disney/Pixar refused to give bonuses to anyone who wasn't "employed by Disney" at the time of the movie's release — i.e. all the folks they purposely laid off before the movie came out. It's never been more true than now that the people who are reaping the rewards of the TV/Movie business aren't the ones doing the work — including at the studios themselves. A lot of talented, high ranking folks in development are being laid off in anticipation of AI "making development efficient," and to be honest, I have no idea what that's supposed to mean other than "penny wise, pound foolish."
My own debate as to what I do next is extremely personal. I was diagnosed as AuDHD (autistic and ADHD) a couple years ago. Part of the autistic experience is something called autistic burnout - basically, it's a state of physical and mental exhaustion which presents and feels like incurable, suicidal depression that persists for minimum three months, usually longer. It's also responsible for skill regression, reducing tolerances for sensory/other input, difficulties with everyday tasks (like speaking, self-regulating emotions, etc.). For me, these long periods directly impact my ability to write (which is kind of rough when you're making a living as a writer). Hustle culture, but also side commitments like the activist work I do through PayUpHollywood, directly contributes to the stressors that cause the burnout.
Since becoming a writer, a good third of my year is spent experiencing autistic burnout, and another third is spent recovering. To be clear, I may be grieving currently but I'm not in an unsafe headspace. But in order to keep myself safe, I have to be honest with myself about my needs. Going forward, I have to live my life a lot slower if I want anything to change. All a diagnosis means is that I know why I'm breaking down, not that the industry will in any way slow down to make accommodations for my disability. So, when I think about my future in Los Angeles, one of the most expensive cities in the country, I have to account for that. I still love writing, and I still love being a TV writer, and enjoy calling out bullshit when I see it. So, maybe I'll stay and keep writing, or maybe I won't. The only thing I do know is that I've prioritized working in this industry above all else, including my own well being — I'm not doing that any longer.
Liz is a U.S.-based screenwriter.