i have often pondered if the (sometimes facetiously, sometimes seriously) postulated AI utopia scenario of humans who don’t need to work but can devote their time to art and recreational pursuits, might be a hellscape for many industrious people.

This essay captures that.

Even the pure artist, for whom utility may not seem to matter, manufactures meaning not just from creative exploration directly, but also from the difficulty (which can take many forms) involved in doing something genuinely new, and what they learn from that.

What happens to that when we even have “new” on tap.