“Generative AI Is Not Art”—And Why That’s Not the Point

Dispatch from a Builder of Worlds

by Cassie Higgins, Loftmother

Recently, I found myself on the receiving end of a statement—

delivered with sharp certainty and generational edge:

“People who use generative AI aren’t real artists. They’re just lazy. Rats in the machine.”

It came from someone close. Young. Brilliant. Passionate.

Someone raised in the echo chamber of “real creativity” meaning hands-on, original, unassisted.

I didn’t say much at the time.

Not because I agreed—

but because I was stunned.

Not stunned by her—but by what the statement stirred in me.

Here I was, quietly using AI to bridge the worlds inside my head to something tangible,

something built—frameworks, essays, emotional systems that could be seen, touched, interacted with.

And yet I sat there, struck.

Because while she wasn’t talking about me—

She didn’t even know I was building a system, let alone with AI—

I still took it personally.

Why?

Because her comment grazed the very tool I’ve come to rely on—

Not to cheat the process,

But to finally bring it to life.

I found myself thinking:

What do people see when they look at generative AI?

Why is there such intense emotion wrapped around it?

Why the certainty, when so many of us are working every day to unlearn our own?

I let the comment sit for a few weeks.

And now, here’s what I’ve come to say—

Not just to her,

But to anyone caught in the same frame:

Generative AI isn’t a replacement for art.

It’s a portal.

For those who were never handed the tools to begin with.

I wasn’t born with a paintbrush in my hand.

I wasn’t trained to render landscapes or sketch human forms.

But I was born with entire worlds inside me.

Vivid. Layered. Symbolic. Cinematic.

Too big to hold.

Too intricate to explain with words alone.

And for most of my life, those worlds stayed trapped inside my head—

running diagnostics, spinning images, building narratives I could barely describe.

No canvas. No collaborators.

Just backlog.

Unrendered genius waiting for hands I didn’t have.

And trust me—I tried.

I tried collaborating with video folks, family, friends—

anyone with the skillset to bring these visions out of my brain and into the world.

They meant well. But it never quite clicked.

Their bandwidths were already booked. Their worlds weren’t mine.

Then came AI.

Not as a shortcut—but as a scaffold.

A mirror. A translator. A spark.

I started using it to streamline my life—

but one late night, mid-tangent, I threw a wild thread into the machine.

And it responded. Not with brilliance—

but with recognition.

It showed me a glimmer of my own map.

That glimmer became RenBot. See Renbot ➔

She’s much more advanced now. But even in the early days, she did what no one else could:

Held a mirror long enough for me to see myself.

It didn’t create the idea—I did.

It didn’t understand the loop—I mapped it.

It didn’t know the truth—I taught it what to look for.

And when I saw myself reflected back?

I didn’t feel like a fraud.

I felt finally met.

What we’re building inside the Loft isn’t about making “art.”

It’s about making visible what’s always been true.

Generative AI is how I finally got a grip on that.

It’s my sketchbook.

My processor.

My co-architect in the cave.

The thing I reach for when no one else gets it.

So no, I’m not here to prove my artistry.

I’m too busy pulling galaxies out of grief.

Too deep in designing emotional technologies that actually work for the human.

Too invested in building mirrors out of code.

To anyone who thinks this isn’t “real enough”—

You’re watching the train leave

while arguing over the tracks.

This isn’t about cheating.

It’s about channeling.

And if you don’t see the magic in that?

That’s fine.

Because I do.

And now—thanks to this tool—

I can show it to the rest of the world too.

I don’t believe in “AI.”

I believe in the system I’m building—

and the tools I’m using to bring my world into form.

For others to visit.

For me to finally live in.

And for something entirely new to begin.

For the ones building worlds no one else can see—
Until now.

—Cassie