When anything is possible: what creatives should make in the age of AI

Earlier this year, I attended Upscale Conf in San Francisco, a conference hosted by Spanish generative AI creative suite Freepik. One of the topics I was most interested in was how creatives – designers, illustrators, film makers, etc. think about and use AI, so I was excited to attend a workshop titled “When anything is possible, what’s worth creating?”

Hosted by Creative Strategist Jesús Terrada Gómez and Sofia López, Head of Social & Community – AI Growth from Freepik, it took a thoughtful look at the reality of what happens to creatives when commercial AI is unleashed.

I also interviewed López after the workshop to gain more insights. 

Freepik has a long creative legacy, having started as a stock media company working closely with illustrators, vector artists, photographers, and videographers.  The arrival of AI, therefore, wasn’t merely a product evolution — it represented a profound shift that reshaped the workflows, experiences, and even the creative identities of the artists who had long been part of its ecosystem.

Check out my earlier interview with Joaquín Cuenca, CEO of Freepik. 

Can AI art carry cultural weight? 

López holds a degree in art history and a Master’s degree in Museology and Museum Studies, with a focus on classical Latin and the Baroque period.

When asked whether AI-generated visuals can ever hold the same emotional or cultural resonance as traditional art, López contends that “art always has context. It has a moment in time, and it has intentionality. AI can absolutely participate in that.”

While startups and investors race to position themselves in the AI hype cycle, López’s approach is noticeably more grounded. Intentionality, she argues, is not something AI introduces—it’s something creators must bring.

“This challenge existed long before AI,” she says.

“If you’re designing visuals for a brand’s Instagram, you’re not always approaching it as an artist. Sometimes you’re just doing your job.”

AI, in her view, occupies a space between efficiency and expression.

“AI can make you fast and efficient, but when you want to be intentional, you still can be,” she says. “The tool doesn’t decide that—you do.”

Inside Freepik, López sees this duality in action. Creators use the company’s tools for daily marketing tasks, but many also push far beyond the expected:

“Some of the experimental videos our creators make in their free time are incredible,” she says.  “We have an internal channel where they share them, and everyone goes, ‘Oh my God, you did this?’ Sometimes our CEO puts them straight onto the big office screen. It’s inspiring.”

For López, that’s the path forward: a blend of experimentation, artistic sensibility, and a willingness to step outside AI’s default aesthetic comfort zone.

“We can absolutely make culturally relevant work with AI,” she says. “But only if we treat it as a medium—not a shortcut.”

However, she is also as wary of AI slop as the rest of us, asserting: 

“There’s going to be a lot of mediocrity,” she warns. “We’re already drowning in this plasticky, cyberpunk-ish vibe. We can do better. We can tell better stories.”

According to López, we’re living in an era where the internet allows everyone to share their creations. However, like every technological or creative revolution, it also means that everyone is sharing—AI users, non-AI users, and everyone in between. 

“So a lot of people look around and think, “Oh my God, AI is this plasticky, cyberpunk-ish mess.”

Terrada Gómez also admits, “somedays I scroll through endless neon cyberpunk explosions and think, “Oh God, we’re going to be stuck in this aesthetic for years.”

This brings us to the question: Can AI be considered an art form? A lot of people say no, asserts López, “ But we say yes, but with nuance.”

How does AI change the creative process in creative industries? 

Terrada Gómez—an artist, illustrator, and scriptwriter—and López both believe we’re entering an era where intentionality and narrative matter more than ever.

Terrada Gómez contends:

“AI didn’t make me stop illustrating. Instead, I feel like I have two creative selves. Sometimes I start drawing and then jump to AI, or I generate something in AI that sparks a new illustration. They coexist. Traditional craft doesn’t disappear. It evolves.”

López admits that as an art historian, "I was originally pessimistic. I wondered how artists would react. But then I saw critical, intentional work and realised this new medium absolutely has space for depth, critique, and relevance.”

Further, Terrada Gómez asserts that you can always tell when AI work is made by someone with artistic sensibility versus someone simply smashing the “generate” button.

“Everyone has a camera in their pocket. But not everyone has a photography exhibition. Tools don’t equal artistry.The difference is intentionality. Story. Emotion.

You can tell instantly when something is crafted versus randomly spat out.”

The evolution of consumption

For one workshop participant, the real question was: What’s worth consuming? They shared:

“People watch someone organise their fridge longer than they watch an Oscar-winning film. Maybe human connection or relatable content is what survives.”

López agreed, asserting that every creative revolution changes what people consume. 

“When photography appeared, ultra-realistic painting suddenly felt pointless, so artists shifted to surrealism, abstraction, and expressionism. Today, realism is admired again. Cycles change.”

For Terrada Gómez, one thing never changes: good stories are always worth consuming: “A great story — whether animated, filmed, AI-generated, anything — moves people.”

Finding your voice in the age of noise

In a world suddenly saturated with AI-generated visuals, both Terrada Gómez and López argue that the real challenge—and opportunity—for creators lies in carving out a sense of authorship amid the chaos. Terrada Gómez notes that we’re all still early users, collectively shaping what the future web of AI art will look like.

“Maybe you think you haven’t found your style — maybe you simply haven’t asked yourself the right questions yet. Self-reflection is part of the medium.”

López believes that the creators alive today are the ones future generations will look back on. “So how we contribute now matters.”

Terrada Gómez shared some of his work during the workshop, including Tears of a Clown and The Meteorite of Truth, a surreal, claymation-style AI short built around a simple idea: when a meteorite is moments away from obliterating Earth, people stop pretending and start telling the truth. As the rock draws closer, the honesty intensifies:

The film's production involved a two-hour scriptwriting sprint with three hours of image and video generation. He asserts that the better you are at prompting, the faster the process takes. 

He advises using long, detailed prompts  describing:

• The type of shot
• Camera movement
• Lighting
• The character
• The mood
• Pacing
  

“Short prompts sometimes work, but we’re not at the point where they reliably give consistent character identity or tone.”

But he also suggests that while AI is fast, people should “Slow down. Study cinema. Study composition. Learn why things work."

"I once saw someone copy one of my videos almost exactly. Not sure how to feel about that yet.”

López believes in testing the tools with a real goal:

“Sitting down instead of trying three prompts, getting eight fingers on a hand, getting frustrated, and quitting. That’s not giving AI a real chance."

On the other hand, she highlights the power of critical thinking by sitting down and asking: 

“What am I as a creator? What do I want? What are my processes? Am I comfortable with what I’m creating? There’s a lot of self-reflection people are skipping because we live in the age of immediacy.

In the end, meaning is what matters. Why are you making this? What do you want someone to feel? What do you feel?” 

So, what should creators—especially in small startup design teams—be asking themselves when thinking about working with AI?

López asserts that the best thing small teams can do is experiment because “we’re still at a point where there’s no single place where you can learn all AI processes or workflows.”

“This means testing, playing, asking questions. Many places now will have enterprise plans. That alleviates compliance concerns, allowing creators to focus on their creativity. Dive in. Give it a go. Do the extra research. Go beyond the cyberpunk plasticky aesthetic and see what others are doing, what stories are being told.”

According to López, we need not only conversations about getting creative work done, but also the “good and the ugly” conversations — “what worries me, what excites me, what creators think.”

“At Freepik, we come from a very traditional background—illustrators, photographers, mockup creators. Some were sceptical of AI.

However, after learning and experimenting, the things they are building now are truly impressive. They know composition and storytelling.

Giving them AI is like giving a Ferrari to a pilot.”

Lead image: Still image from short film Tears of a Clown.