As a designer, should I be afraid of AI?

Recently, I received a comment under one of my posts that started something like this:

"It could happen to you, too."

This was followed by a long explanation about how images could be stolen, processed by AI, expanded, and eventually sold as one's own work. About how people would make money with this. How Meta wouldn't protect us creatives. And why, out of solidarity, we should perhaps be better off avoiding AI entirely.

I read the comment. Then I read it again.

And then I made myself a cup of tea.

Not because I found the comment ridiculous. Quite the opposite. There is often a genuine concern behind such statements. The concern that creative work is losing its value. That experience suddenly counts for less. That machines are taking over what humans have spent years learning, experimenting with, and working on.

These are important questions. But the answers are usually a bit more complicated than the headlines.

And while I was sitting there drinking my tea, I noticed how familiar this kind of conversation has become to me by now. Only the topic changes.

In the past, it was the fear of digital tutorials. Then came social media. Then Canva. Then Etsy. And now, artificial intelligence.

The pattern remains surprisingly the same: something new appears, and at first, it feels like the end of everything you know.

The real fear often has nothing to do with AI at all

The longer I thought about this comment, the more I felt that it wasn't actually about artificial intelligence at all.

It is much more about the fear that one's own work could become less valuable.

About the concern that experience suddenly no longer matters.

And perhaps also about the question of whether all the time we invest in our creativity will even be noticed in the end.

These are questions I can certainly understand. Because anyone who works creatively always shows a piece of themselves, too. Regardless of whether you develop designs, write knitting and crochet patterns, take photographs, draw, or design.

You put ideas, time, and experience into it, and sometimes your nerves as well. And of course, the thought is unpleasant that someone might simply take over or copy this work. It’s just that, unfortunately, this is not a problem that only started with AI.

Can AI actually do what I do as a designer?

That is the question I have encountered most often lately. And to be honest: the short answer would be "yes, partially." The longer answer is much more interesting.

AI is capable of an astonishing amount these days. It can recognize patterns, combine content, make suggestions, and even generate things that look quite convincing at first glance. This also applies to the field of design and even knitting and crochet patterns.

And that is exactly where it gets exciting.

Because a pattern consists of more than just stitch counts, increases and decreases, or a pretty sketch at the end. A good pattern is often created long before the first line is ever written down. It begins with an idea that sometimes seems great and sometimes is discarded after only the first few rows. Anyone who designs themselves knows that there are often only a few hours between "This is going to be great!" and "Why did I even think of this?"

And especially when realizing that something that looks perfect in theory doesn't work at all in practice. That is the part you don't see when you only look at the end result. Because creative work is not something abstract. It does not emerge from nothing, and usually not at the push of a button. It emerges from experience, from mistakes, from experiments, from detours, and sometimes from the courage to let go of an idea, even though you were convinced yesterday that it was great. Anyone who works creatively knows that worlds often lie between an initial idea and a finished design. And occasionally, three cups of tea as well.

 

What AI does not understand and will probably not understand anytime soon

Of course, AI can analyze a lace pattern or recognize how a raglan is constructed. It can even make surprisingly convincing suggestions. But it doesn't know how yarn behaves if it suddenly develops a life of its own after washing. It also doesn't know why some phrasings in a pattern seem crystal clear, yet test knitters still ask questions at the exact same spot.

But it has no feeling for the moment when something suddenly shifts from "this isn't working" to "now it fits." It knows no frustration after the third failed attempt. It knows no joy when a pattern finally works so well that someone else can easily follow it. And it doesn't know that quiet feedback when someone writes: "I attempted a large project for the first time, and it worked."

That might sound romantic, but for me, that is the core of creative work. Not the creation of content, but the understanding of the people who use that content.

 

Why I am not afraid of AI and remain calm anyway

Before this is misunderstood: I use AI. But not as a replacement for my work. More like a very fast conversation partner that I can ask when I want to sort through a thought or when I am looking for a direction for something. I use it for research, for structure, sometimes for initial ideas. Just as one might have opened a notebook or used a search engine in the past.

But the decision as to what becomes of it is still mine. That remains important because that is exactly where the difference lies: between support and delegating responsibility.

I also don't believe that creative work will disappear. I rather believe that it will change, and this is not the first time that has happened. Perhaps the crucial point is not the question of whether AI can replace something, but rather what people are really looking for in the end. And I don't believe that is just perfect results.

People are looking for guidance, trust, personality, and a voice they can believe in. And that is something that does not arise in an automated way.

Perhaps that is exactly the reason why I view the topic quite calmly, despite all the discussions. Of course, our work will change. It always has. But as long as people are not just looking for information, but for experiences, for exchange, and for someone who has already walked the same path, I am not too worried about creative work.

And if an AI should ever write my knitting and crochet patterns better than I do, then at least I hope it also knows how many times you have to unravel a good idea before it becomes truly great.

Perhaps that is, in the end, the real answer to the comment that triggered this post: Yes, the world changes, technologies change, and tools change. But creativity has never been just a question of tools. It arises where experience, curiosity, and personality meet, and therefore I look to the future with respect, but above all with curiosity. With a cup of tea in my hand and quite a lot of ideas in my head.