Dear Reader,
The New York Times recently asked dozens of 10-year-olds what the world will look like in the year 2050. Some of the children’s visions are remarkably hopeful: they imagine a world where a woman finally assumes the presidency of the United States, where people practice greater kindness toward one another, and where everyone might even have a pet fox. Others, however, sound as though they have been plucked straight from a dystopian hellscape, predicting global conflicts, monarchic rule supplanting democratic voting, embedded brain sensors that stream thoughts directly to digital applications, and the ultimate end of human civilization entirely. Yet, whether optimistic or bleak, these children mention artificial intelligence again and again. In their envisioned futures, AI is an inextricable, omnipresent fixture of daily life.
The exponential growth of artificial intelligence has accelerated widespread fears about its expanding power and influence, prompting numerous corporate executives, industry leaders, and prominent technologists to warn that it is well past time to slow down such rapid and unchecked expansions. Whatever your personal feelings or professional stance on the technology, it is clear that we are collectively witnessing a historical turning point that will fundamentally shape our world for generations to come.
For artists, illustrators, designers, and writers, artificial intelligence represents not only a profound threat to their livelihoods but an existential challenge to the very substance of our shared humanity. The central question of our time is not whether a computer-generated algorithm or automated bot could create a technically proficient painting or describe a sculpture with more analytical insight than a human ever could, but rather about what humanity inevitably loses when we outsource the singular technology that is innately ours. Art is uniquely human and remains one of the greatest historical drivers of empathy, understanding, and connection among people. As many creative professionals have come to understand over the years, the act of making art is also a true act of faith in a world that can frequently make hope feel impossible.
For the past seven years, independent cultural publications and creative platforms have spoken with thousands of curious, inventive people striving each day to draw public attention to the misunderstood, the overlooked, and the unimaginable. Artists are uniquely primed to envision alternative ways of being, and through their profound acts of creative generosity, they share their grandest hopes and smallest observations with the broader public. Their faith, in turn, becomes something we can all collectively take part in and draw strength from.
Independent arts organizations often operate on this same foundation of generosity, propelled forward not by optimized algorithms or cold machine learning models, but by devoted, small-scale teams. For instance, platforms like Colossal operate with a tight-knit team of just four people, striving to ensure that the widest possible array of readers—ranging from students and educators to fellow creatives and passionate art appreciators—have the opportunity to deeply engage with artists’ work that they might not otherwise encounter anywhere else. These outlets also prioritize a deeply human, hands-on process. Every single facet of the publication, from meticulously selecting imagery and writing thoughtful headlines to compiling daily newsletters and managing editorial correspondence, is done entirely by hand.
Although such publications could certainly achieve greater corporate efficiency if they automated and outsourced their daily efforts, the editorial leadership knows that doing so would spell the absolute end of what makes the platform distinct and valuable. They understand that by embracing the creative friction of human labor, they are actively supporting the artists, illustrators, designers, and creators who have so generously shared themselves and their dreams with the world. In doing so, they are also actively creating the kind of human-centric world they actually want to live in.
However, maintaining an intentional, people-powered process requires real resources, and sustaining independent cultural journalism is an ongoing challenge. Industry data shows that less than 0.5% of weekly readership financially contributes to support platforms like Colossal. Increasing that baseline support to even 1% would mean cementing long-term institutional survival and ensuring that independent outlets can continue to celebrate the unbridled human creativity that has come to characterize their reporting and curation for the last 16 years.
Becoming a supporting member of independent arts platforms is both an act of generosity and a direct line to the creative work that truly matters. Dedicated members believe firmly in the power of human creativity and retain the faith that it can help usher in a better tomorrow for everyone. When there is a rapid, industry-wide shift toward a sleek, frictionless life dictated by automation, these supporters champion the nuanced, messy, and idiosyncratic work—the kind of art that can only ever be made by humans, for humans.
Yours in hope,
Grace Ebert
Editorial director, Colossal
