You Can Be Pro-AI and Pro-Arts at the Same Time

There’s a funny thing that happens when you commit to publishing on Substack once per week.

Every Monday—assuming that some reckless mismanagement of time has not prevented me from writing a post—I send out my newsletter, take a deep breath, and savor the deep, satisfactory relief of crossing the task off my to-do list. And then, almost immediately, a new wave of anxiety hits: “What am I going to write for my next post?”

It becomes an all-consuming exercise of the mind, a mental tug-of-war that twists itself in knots as I try to determine what to write about next. And every week, without fail, there’s usually one tantalizing yet controversial idea that springs forth in my mind and makes me say: “Oh no. Absolutely not. I couldn’t possibly write about that thing.”

And so I spend my days, sometimes up until the last minute, just hours before I’m supposed to send the post out, torturing myself over what to write about. Then the realization comes: “I’m going to have to write about the thing I’m avoiding, aren’t I?”

Without further ado, this week’s “thing I’m avoiding” is none other than the topic of AI.

A few months ago, I posted the following Note on Substack. For those unfamiliar, a Note on Substack is like a tweet—a short-form post that’s shown on the Substack home feed. To my surprise, my Note got quite a bit of engagement:

Some people were strongly in favor, sharing how AI saves them countless hours each week by helping them brainstorm ideas or complete tedious, repetitive tasks. Others were firmly opposed, pointing to the environmental impact of AI technology, as well as concerns about job loss and the risk of cognitive decline.

Keep in mind that Substack’s audience is not generalized like other social media audiences. It primarily consists of other writers—writing about writing, reading about writing, and reading what others write about writing. It’s a sort of contained, recursive loop of self-serving commentary.

So, naturally, the topic of AI was bound to stir strong opinions. Anything that’s new or unfamiliar typically does. While there were a handful of thoughtful, moderate voices, it quickly became clear that opinions had split into two camps: those for, and those against. And often, the people most opposed were those who felt they had the most to lose—artists, creatives, and writers whose work felt directly threatened.

When I posted that Note, I hadn’t yet fully immersed myself in the world of AI. I was using tools like ChatGPT and Perplexity, but I still considered myself a novice, only beginning to understand the broader landscape. Still, I recognized a real curiosity within myself to learn more, and that curiosity brought its own kind of conflict.

So why is it such a big deal to write an essay about AI?

Well, first and foremost, I’ve always identified as a creative person. I’ve been playing piano since I was five, guitar since I was twelve, and over the last few years, both fiction and non-fiction writing have become another creative passion and a deeply fulfilling means of expression. But after seeing the reaction to my Note, I started to question whether I’d be ostracized by fellow creatives if I decided to go deeper into writing about, talking about, or even experimenting with AI.

To put it simply: would people think less of me as a writer if they knew I was open to, or even enthusiastic about, AI?

I don’t want to be lumped in with the hustle and tech bros who, in years past, spent their time hyping dropshipping schemes and shilling worthless NFTs. I care about art, beauty, and meaning far more than any of that, and I hope that comes through in my writing.

However—

The reality is that I’m also unemployed right now, and I need to start making money.

It quickly became clear to me that there’s an enormous demand for AI expertise. Nearly every company wants to understand how to integrate the latest AI technologies into their operations. So, over the past few months, I’ve thrown myself into the world of AI, hoping to build my skills enough to land some paid work.

Though I haven’t made any money yet, I believe I’m getting closer to grasping the AI landscape. In just the last two months, I have:

• Tested 50+ AI tools to figure out which ones are actually useful—from generative AI to productivity tools and everything in between

• Completely reconstructed Fyxer’s email triage system using n8n (keep in mind, this same email triage system made Fyxer a $10M ARR company)

• Built several other automations in n8n and Lindy that save me hours each week

• Created 3 landing pages using Lovable, Replit, and Webflow

• Built a simple Substack Notes idea generator app in Base44 (it doesn’t write the Notes; it just gives me ideas for them)

• Started learning how to code my own apps with Claude Code and Cursor

I realize this is starting to sound a little like a cringy, self-congratulatory LinkedIn post. But I mention this only because I feel more equipped than I ever have before. Every roadblock—technical or otherwise—feels like something I can actually get past now.

Looking back at the layered history of who I am, this represents a massive mindset shift. For so many years, I stopped myself before even starting, immediately thinking of all the ways something wouldn’t work. I often defaulted to an overactive risk management mode that sabotaged progress and stifled creativity. Now, though, I have tools available to me that help bypass a lot of those self-defeating beliefs.

The irony in all of this is that my unemployment has become my most valuable asset. It gives me the time and flexibility to actually learn these skills. Even though my job applications go unanswered, I’m a more capable marketer than I’ve ever been—and somehow, I can now get three or four times as much done in a week as I could just a year ago.

Once again, I’m trying to delicately balance sharing my experience without sounding like a tech bro hypebeast. But I also have to admit: I’m not sure I want to just get another job. Now that these new skills have unlocked so many more possibilities, I’m realizing that a better path forward might be to build tools and apps that genuinely help people and align with my interests. It feels somewhat strange to imagine going back to a 9-5, where I’m at the mercy of projects and systems that don’t motivate or satisfy me.

I’ve always had entrepreneurial aspirations, but it often seemed impossible to figure out a way to get started—mostly because of chronic perfectionism and a tendency to prioritize security over risk. Now, though, the path forward feels much more viable.

I don’t know what the next few months will bring for me personally. Who knows—maybe I’ll land a job, or maybe I’ll finally take the leap into building something of my own. But I do know there’s a broader phenomenon here that extends beyond my individual situation.

You might be thinking to yourself: Great job, Matt. You’ve figured out how to use AI for business tasks. But what about all of the artists, creatives, and writers who feel threatened by AI’s impact on their creative work?

Just as I’ve had to wrestle with my own assumptions about AI and creativity, people all over the world are trying to figure out how to navigate this technology without losing what makes them human. There is a real sense of overwhelm, and the pace of change is relentless. I get the sense that most people just don’t know where to start.

What worries me most is the same thing that made me hesitant to write this post in the first place. There's a genuine risk that we'll let fear or ideology keep us on the sidelines while others shape the future without us. The questions about AI and creativity—the ones that keep artists and writers up at night—aren't going to be answered by technologists alone, or by artists alone. They're going to be figured out through experimentation, dialogue, and the messy process of different perspectives colliding.

But that can only happen if people are willing to engage. This is why I think the blanket anti-AI stance is ultimately counterproductive. If you choose not to use AI, the game will still be played. You just won't be a player in the game.

We need people who understand creativity and meaning to join the game. If all of the artists in the world choose not to play, then what do you think is going to happen to art? The question isn’t whether AI will reshape our world, but whether we’ll help guide that transformation or simply react to whatever future others design for us.

Lastly, as a final note, If you’re reading this and have any interest in learning more about the current AI landscape, ping me and let me know. I’m happy to point you in the right direction.

You can be pro-AI and pro-arts at the same time.

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Music Recs!

I’ve been digging the new Nilüfer Yanya EP, Dancing Shoes. It’s indie rock with some bedroom pop sensibilities, and it’s only 16 minutes long. Give it a try on your way to work!

Listen on Spotify | Listen on Apple Music

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