Restaurant menus, commercials, event posters, billboards, microdramas, book covers. These are just some of the visual works that normally take artists hours, days or even months to create. Now, they can be generated in seconds with a few prompts using a generative artificial intelligence (AI) tool The creative community has responded with a mix of curiosity, frustration and even disgust, alongside concerns about copyright consent and the value of human creativity.

CNA Lifestyle spoke with illustrators, animators, graphic designers, painters and arts educators to understand how generative AI is changing their work.

Associate Professor Bernhard Schmitt from Nanyang Technological University's (NTU) School of Art, Design and Media pointed out that AI itself is hardly new. Machine learning and other forms of automation have been used in animation for decades.

What has become particularly disruptive is generative AI, which is trained on vast amounts of existing data to produce images, videos and other content in response to text prompts.

Pann Lim, a veteran graphic designer and founder of creative agency Kinetic Singapore, observed that artists' responses range from outright rejection to enthusiastic adoption. In between are those who may have reservations about generative AI but use it for brainstorming or because their livelihoods depend on it.

As generative AI becomes more embedded in creative work, how are artists protecting their work, safeguarding their livelihoods and preserving what makes their art human?

WHY SOME ARTISTS SEE GENERATIVE AI AS THEFT One of the biggest concerns artists have about generative AI is how it draws upon existing creative work, often without the original artists' knowledge or consent.

That’s my precious work that I’ve spent hours on – and AI art just makes that in seconds. How is that impressive? That’s stealing.

On its website, OpenAI – the company behind ChatGPT and other AI products – says its models are trained on datasets that include publicly available online material and material provided or generated by users and researchers.

For Goh Wei Choon, co-founder and illustrator of The Woke Salaryman, the very way generative AI draws from other creative work raises serious ethical concerns.

"The main reason I’m primarily against it is that it scrapes, without permission, the work of other artists and creatives," he said.

Goh also rejects the argument that generative AI simply learns from other artists in the same way humans are inspired by other artists before them.

"Of course, artists draw inspiration from one another, but their influences are transformed through their own experiences, vulnerabilities, preferences and artistic judgement," he said. "There is a transformative effort put in that makes it more differentiated from just the resource." Illustrator Farihath Samsul, who creates custom digital artwork, said she has had people turn her original work into something else using AI.

"It feels as though critical thinking, empathy and values are disregarded when AI is used irresponsibly," she said. "That’s my precious work that I’ve spent hours on – and AI art just makes that in seconds. How is that impressive? That’s stealing." Freelance animator and motion designer Jolene Tan, whose work can be seen on Singapore’s MRT platforms, has also come across AI-generated animation that were almost shot-for-shot copies of other works, with only details such as the characters' hairstyles or clothing changed.

Beyond concerns about consent and copyright, some artists also question whether generative AI undermines the very purpose of making art.

For muralist and arts advocate Terence Tan, who goes by Ubin Artist, art is fundamentally a form of individual expression, shaped by an artist's experiences and decisions.

"The whole principle or the purpose of art itself is already for individual expression," the painter said. "When creative work is generated from existing material, how much of that individuality remains?"

TERMS, CONDITIONS AND WAYS TO PROTECT THEIR WORK Felicia Low-Jimenez, co-founder of local comic book publisher Difference Engine and co-creator of the children's detective book series Sherlock Sam, believes that staying informed about the latest AI developments is an important part of protecting the writers and artists her company works with.

Her team keeps track of updates to software such as Adobe and Google Workspace, particularly new AI features that could affect creators' content.

"We would never put a creator's work into generative AI," she said, adding that Difference Engine also does not accept AI-generated submissions. "And if a creator objects to having their work used alongside generative AI, we will 100 per cent respect that."

For illustrator Farihath, protecting her work means putting restrictions in writing. "My terms and conditions clearly state that my clients are not allowed to put my commissioned work through generative AI or use AI to alter or reproduce it," she said.

Some artists turn to tools such as Glaze and Nightshade, developed by researchers at the University of Chicago to protect artwork against unauthorised AI training.

Glaze makes small changes to an image to make it harder for AI models to imitate an artist's style. Nightshade is designed to disrupt models that train on images without permission. Neither tool removes artwork already used to train AI models or guarantees protection against every form of copying.

Lim is sceptical about how effective these tools would be as generative AI continues to develop. The graphic designer pointed out that once artwork is uploaded online, it can be difficult to control where it ends up.

He questioned whether artists could realistically keep pace with increasingly sophisticated AI systems, particularly as the origin of generated images becomes harder to trace.

Some artists also pointed out that the responsibility of protecting artwork shouldn’t fall entirely on creators themselves.

"These types of guardrails and more definitely should be coming from an organised movement, instead of the responsibility being fully on the individual," said Muhammad, the videographer and content producer behind Ihasamic!.

"The artist's role is to make art, and as much as I think there is power and political significance in fighting to protect your art to the death, it gets extremely tiring, and a person can only take so much." Pann Lim has worked in graphic design and visual art for nearly three decades. In August 2026, he organised an exhibition at Basheer Graphic Books about the importance of the human soul in creative design.

DOUBLING DOWN ON HUMAN AUTHENTICITY Some artists believe that protecting their work involves focusing on what makes their creative practice distinctly human.

"The solution to AI’s overwhelmingly engineered dishonesty is overwhelming honesty," Muhammad said.

For him, that honesty extends beyond the artwork itself to how artists treat one another – from paying freelancers fairly and on time to supporting overworked creatives and building a community that protects each other's work.

Some artists are making their creative processes more visible by sharing videos of themselves sketching, painting or animating.

Jolene Tan, for instance, shares videos of how she creates animations, a process which can take weeks or months. "I hope sharing the process will allow more people to value and understand what makes art and generative AI so different," she said.

For Goh, however, such videos are more about engaging audiences than proving that his work is AI-free, particularly when generative AI can now imitate sketches and process videos.

What distinguishes The Woke Salaryman is not simply its recognisable illustration style, but the perspectives and values behind its stories. "It's also the synthesis of the artwork with the writing, which is also our thought process and our way of seeing the world that makes us, us," he said. For physical artists like Terence Tan, the human element is even more tangible.

The muralist recalled a passer-by asking why his hand-painted murals felt so different from printed artwork pasted onto walls.

He believes part of the appeal lies in the imperfections: The visible brush strokes, uneven lines, variations in colour and even cracks in the wall.

"When you see human effort, which includes flaws, you appreciate that," he said.

Human interactions also enrich his art. When he saw a woman feeding a cat near one of his murals, he was moved to immediately include that scene in his artwork.

"That scene was all human," he said. “An experience AI can never copy.”For him, such encounters are precisely why artists should have more opportunities to work in public spaces, engage with the community and let people witness – and thus appreciate – the creative process for themselves.

In a recent design research project exploring the role of human creativity in an AI-driven world, Lim sought to remind artists that technological advancement need not come at the expense of their creative identity. "You can use AI, but you don't need to give up your soul," he said.

Terence Tan, also known as the Ubin Artist, paints murals in public spaces in Singapore, such as at void decks.

BALANCING VALUES AND MAKING A LIVING Yet, preserving their creative principles is not always straightforward for artists who also need to make a living. Lim pointed out that there is a difference between artistic expression and artists' "rice bowls".

While some creatives can afford to reject generative AI entirely, others may work for companies that expect them to use it. In today’s job market, simply refusing may not be a realistic option.

Goh agreed. "I find it very brutal if I just say if an artist uses AI, they are ‘betraying’ the rest of us," the illustrator said, referring to younger artists trying to establish themselves.

He acknowledged that The Woke Salaryman, which was established in 2019 before the boom in generative AI, has the advantage of an existing audience, reputation and client base – privileges that newer creatives may not have. For educators, the tension between artistic values and technological demands is just as complicated.

Multidisciplinary artist and educator Noor Iskandar, who teaches at the Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts (NAFA), has personal reservations about generative AI while recognising its growing presence in arts education.

He pointed to the use-of-AI declaration forms, which require students to disclose how they have used the technology in their work. Such declarations also raise questions about how educators should assess the extent of that involvement.

Professor Chong Keng Hua, NAFA's provost and academic vice-president, said the institution believes students should learn to create both with and without AI.

"We recognise that students hold different views on AI, and our role is not to prescribe a single position but to give them space to interrogate these issues critically and make informed choices about their practice," he said, adding that exposing students to different forms of technology could broaden their creativity.

He added: "We want our graduates to be innovative without losing sight of what makes them uniquely human. AI can support the creative journey, but responsibility for the work remains with the artist." An artist might work a job that pays the bills, even one that involves using AI, while continuing to paint, illustrate, animate or pursue personal projects outside working hours without touching any kind of technology.

Assoc Prof Schmitt from NTU believes some creative jobs, particularly those involving routine commercial design, will inevitably be disrupted as businesses turn to cheaper and faster alternatives. He added that artistic creation need not be an inherently sacred activity.

"Not every piece of commercial creative work needs to be a profound artistic statement, and technology can have a place in producing functional material," he said.

Lim offered another perspective for artists who feel their creative ambitions are at odds with commercial demands.

“There is a difference between using one's creativity to earn a living and using it for personal fulfilment," he said. "Ideally, the two overlap.

But they do not always have to. "If you feel like you love doing creative work enough, you find ways to keep it." Noor Iskandar is a multidisciplinary artist who uses different art forms, from photography to poetry, in his work.

CREATING ART IN A WORLD DISRUPTED BY AI For Assoc Prof Schmitt, the future of art is neither as bleak nor as revolutionary as some predictions about AI suggest. While he acknowledged that the technology has been disruptive, he believes its capabilities are also frequently overestimated.

"Generative AI produces outputs based on patterns and probabilities in existing data," he explained. "This makes it particularly good at producing what is statistically likely or familiar. For artists, while that can create a challenge, it can also provide opportunity." Assoc Prof Schmitt encourages his students to use AI critically rather than simply accepting whatever it generates. One approach is to ask the technology to produce an image, recognise the predictable result, then deliberately create something different.

"The idea should be from you," he said. “But you must be different from generative AI, be better than the average." He also respects students who reject generative AI entirely, although he believes they must approach that decision strategically.

"Refuse it. Make it your brand," he said, adding that artists who take this route must develop work distinctive enough to stand apart.

Goh raised a Singapore example: One AI-generated film released on National Da y that, in his view, failed to capture the nuances of local culture.

He recalled characters referring to Housing & Development Board flats as "public housing" and several other "overly formal or so-called Americanised" ways of speaking – expressions he felt lacked the familiarity Singaporeans have when they speak about their homes.

The example illustrates why Singapore's creative industry should not simply compete with AI on the volume of content it can produce.

Instead, Goh believes local artists should have greater confidence in their own cultural knowledge, experiences and perspectives – qualities that make Singaporean stories distinctive.