The creative confidence crisis: How AI is quietly reshaping our instincts

The creative process has always relied on something intangible – instinct, intuition, a sudden spark that turns thought into something new. 

It’s a process often described as magic, though no one fully understands how or why it happens. As artificial intelligence becomes more of a constant presence in creative work, that magic feels both amplified and threatened. 

 The temptation to optimise every idea - to smooth out rough edges through machine input - is difficult to resist.

AI’s capabilities - particularly through large language models (LLMs) - are nothing short of remarkable. They can generate ideas, refine language, suggest visuals, and speed up processes that once required hours of human labour. The possibilities these systems unlock are unreal. 

And yet, their full potential is still unfolding. This current moment in time holds a strange duality: the excitement at the opportunities machines offer, and an unsettling awareness of how little control we have over what comes next.

AI can generate ideas, refine language, suggest visuals, and speed up processes that once required hours of human labour.

For creatives, this tension is becoming personal. AI is embedded in workflows that shape campaigns, concepts, and storytelling. The convenience it offers is undeniable. But that same convenience is creating something less expected: a crisis of creative confidence. 

At Dazed Studio, a recent global focus group with Gen-Z creatives revealed an unease beneath the surface. Many participants acknowledged AI’s productivity boost. Others voiced discomfort with how easily their creative instincts were being outsourced. As one participant put it, “AI fosters a culture of insecurity. I know how to write. But I’m starting to question if I trust my own ability anymore.” 

The very thing that makes creativity human; the friction, the uncertainty, the risk, becomes optional.

This reflects a broader trend. AI is reshaping the balance between efficiency and authenticity. The temptation to optimise every idea - to smooth out rough edges through machine input - is difficult to resist. But in doing so, personal expression can become detached from the process. The very thing that makes creativity human; the friction, the uncertainty, the risk becomes optional. And that raises a deeper question: how do we stay connected to our own creative instincts in a world where machines can produce near-perfect outputs in seconds? 

Delegating your most challenging work to AI isn’t useful when it comes to personal growth, finding a unique perspective, or creating work your audience actually cares about.

There is, of course, precedent for this kind of disruption. New technologies have always provoked anxiety alongside awe. What feels different now is the speed and scale of change. AI doesn’t simply offer new tools; it challenges the concept of originality itself. Thom Waite, Dazed Digital Editor, describes convenience as a trap, especially for creatives. “Delegating your most challenging work to AI isn’t useful when it comes to personal growth, finding a unique perspective, or creating work your audience actually cares about.” 

 It’s this duality we need to become comfortable with – the understanding that we are advancing both toward possibility and toward something we may not fully comprehend or control.  

Still, the potential for AI to expand human creativity shouldn’t be dismissed. AI can assist with idea generation, uncover patterns, and enable experimentation in new mediums. It can spark creativity where there was once blockage. As filmmaker Ivan Olita suggests, AI doesn’t replace creativity - it augments it. 

The integration of AI into creative practice demands clarity of intention. Without boundaries, there’s a risk of becoming a passive participant in your own work, allowing AI to shape ideas rather than sharpening your own instincts. As Dazed Studio strategist Mina Polo puts it, “We buy into a writer’s point of view, not just the content they produce.” AI can generate content. It doesn’t offer perspective. 

How do we stay connected to our own creative instincts in a world where machines can produce near-perfect outputs in seconds? 

And yet, there’s a counterpoint. Some argue AI can help creatives find their voice, not lose it. Substack writer Zoe Fischer (Sh*t You Should Care About) describes how working with AI has actually honed her creative identity. “The potential for a fine-tuned AI model to learn from your work reinforces the strength and uniqueness of your identity, while giving you the tools to increase your impact.” 

The tension at the heart of this moment lies in the limits of both machine and mind. Humanity does not fully comprehend the human brain, its capacity for creativity, imagination, and insight is still beyond scientific understanding. Yet machines, built from human intelligence, are already capable of feats their creators can no longer entirely explain. This is where advancement meets its double edge: the thrill of possibility alongside the fear of what might be lost in the process. 

True creative confidence comes from recognising that whilst machines can remix, generate and predict, they can not originate from lived experience, personal perspective, or cultural nuance. 

AI offers awe. But humanity offers something else; depth, emotion, imperfection. The unpredictable spark that no system can replicate. There’s a different kind of magic. One that can’t be coded or optimised. Or can it? 

This is the space we now occupy, the uncomfortable middle ground where human creativity meets the accelerating potential of machines. A space where the lines blur, and the rules are still being written. It’s this duality we need to become comfortable with – the understanding that we are advancing both toward possibility and toward something we may not fully comprehend or control.