Crisis of Taste

I understand why artists are afraid of generative AI. If your job depends on your ability to create, and a new tool threatens to do it faster, cheaper, or louder—you’re going to feel threatened. That part makes sense to me.

What I don’t fully understand—at least not instinctively—is why so many non-artists hate AI art.

People with no personal stake in the creative industries seem just as angry, sometimes even more so. You’ll find people who don’t draw, paint, write, or make music—people who couldn’t explain how a camera works—spitting venom at AI-generated imagery, poetry, or pop songs. They don’t just dislike the output. They loathe the entire idea. They hate the people who use these tools. They don’t want to see it. They don’t want to hear it. They want it gone.

At first, this confused me. I’m someone who’s excited about this technology. I want to see what strange new things humans make with it. I want to know who the next Aphex Twin will be. What the next Blair Witch Project will look like. Who might write the next Harry Potter—without the baggage of the last one. I see all of this as the beginning of a creative renaissance unlike anything we’ve ever seen. Limitless tools in the hands of previously voiceless creators.

So why are so many people—especially people who don’t even consider themselves creative—so hostile?

Taste as a Social Compass

I’ve spent my whole life chasing art that doesn’t need permission. Gory horror movies. Hardcore punk. Messy, experimental films. NFTs. Music made by people I disagree with politically or personally. I was taught “There is no such thing as good art or bad art — just big audiences and small audiences.” I like finding and joining new small audiences. If I think something’s good, it’s good. If something’s interesting, I’ll say so. I’m not afraid to love the wrong things.

But most people aren’t like that. They don’t explore. They conform.

We’ve all met them—the ones who proudly say, “I like all music… except rap and country.” Or the men who refuse to listen to female artists. Or the people who say they’ll only watch a movie if it wins an Oscar. Their taste isn’t a reflection of their identity. It’s a reflection of their fear.

Because for them, taste isn’t about discovery—it’s about safety. It’s about knowing what’s acceptable. It’s about fitting in.

And in the old system, that was easy. The entertainment industry served up culture in a clean, pre-approved format. Major labels. Movie studios. Bestseller lists. Whatever was safe to like came with a logo and a marketing campaign. You didn’t need taste. You just needed to follow.

But generative AI breaks that.

When the Source Disappears, So Does the Map

We’re heading into a future where you won’t always know whether a song was made by Universal Music Group or a 15-year-old with Suno and an iPhone. A beautiful illustration might come from a major animation studio—or from someone who typed five words into Midjourney. A bestselling book might be written by an AI-assisted author who never went to an MFA program or worked in publishing.

For those of us who like chaos, this is thrilling.

For people who don’t trust their own taste, it’s terrifying.

Because without the studio label, the verified artist, the cultural packaging—how do they know if something is “good”? How do they know what they’re allowed to like?

Suddenly, every piece of art becomes a test. And the people who’ve never had to think about their preferences are failing it.

The End of Cultural Gatekeeping

The fear of AI art isn’t just about art. It’s about identity.

People don’t want to admit this out loud, but a lot of mainstream taste is driven by social performance. “I like this band because my friends do.” “I respect that director because the critics told me to.” “I don’t watch animation because it’s for kids.”

AI disrupts that social layer. It floods the zone with new voices, new aesthetics, new narratives. It removes the “authority” that used to tell people what mattered. And without that, some folks would rather burn the system down than admit they might actually enjoy something they weren’t supposed to.

But here’s the good news: those people are fading.

Letting Taste Be Free

The next generation isn’t afraid of what they like. They listen to slowed-down versions of pop songs on YouTube. They remix anime clips into emotional montages. They read AI fan fiction. They build playlists full of untraceable, synthetic music and call it a vibe.

They aren’t asking, “Who made this?” They’re asking, “Does this feel like me?”

That’s the future I’m excited for. A future where we’re not bound to what corporations tell us is good, or what gatekeepers say we’re allowed to like. A future where anyone can enjoy anything. Where one person makes a song, another makes a remix, and someone else makes their own version of the music video—all before lunch.

Yes, some will only consume traditional art. Some will only use AI tools.

But hopefully, more people will just follow their taste, not their fear.

Because in the end, that’s what art is for.