People are creative. One common manifestation of human creativity arises through the work of artists. When considering equality, for instance, many of us might jump to the role of laws and rights to give people equal access and opportunity, making society better. However, when American author Kurt Vonnegut creatively envisioned total equality, he imagined it as a dystopian society that reduced everyone to the lowest common denominator. His short story, “Harrison Bergeron,” describes a society where anyone with more intelligence, more athleticism, or more gracefulness is “handicapped” to erase their advantages. Through science fiction, Vonnegut subverts our common ideals of equality, prompting us to question what we truly mean when we claim that everyone is equal. We need creative people—and to exercise our own creativity—to help us see things, even common ones, from fresh perspectives.
Now, in an era where AI is the buzzword repeated ad nauseam, we might wonder whether AI can intentionally act in a subversive manner or break rules in meaningful ways. Are there limits to its creative imitations? More importantly, is there something unique about human creativity that AI can’t fully replicate? Since AI is trained on our past information and existing writings, it seems unlikely that it could truly overcome established patterns. But even if that hurdle is overcome, the real risk is AI flattening our critical thinking—and, by extension, our creativity.
In 1935, German philosopher Walter Benjamin wrote “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction.” He points out that art has always technically been reproducible. After all, a gifted painter could diligently and accurately copy a masterpiece. Benjamin, however, claims something disconcerting happened with mechanical reproduction: the ability to reproduce rapidly and prolifically without requiring much attention. This, Benjamin warned, strips art of its “aura.” He explains that "even the most perfect reproduction of a work of art is lacking in one element: its presence in time and space, its unique existence at the place where it happens to be." Aura is deeply connected to authenticity. Even if someone—or AI—can perfectly mimic an artwork, it lacks the artist’s presence, struggles, and history that give the original its unique character.
The beauty industry exemplifies an analogous situation. Just as we value an artist’s physical connection with their work, we value the training, instincts, and experimentation of beauty professionals. Rather than haphazardly applying makeup on a client, they analyze skin tone, texture, and personality to make unique selections. Similarly, a perfumer blends scents to forge an emotional relationship between the wearer and the fragrance. With any of these tasks, we can imagine ways that AI could assist creative endeavors. However, if generative AI dominates the beauty industry, then we run the risk of another realm succumbing to the “good enough” culture that seems pervasive already in many areas of content creation, especially where there isn’t a clear content strategy.
Benjamin adds that in the age of mechanical reproduction, art ceases to be an end in itself and instead becomes an object designed for reproducibility. AI learns from human artists, and then, in a self-referential cycle, eventually learns from its own generated works. This raises a crucial question: Will beauty move from being a space for personal taste and creativity to a domain dominated by AI-generated aesthetics and trends? AI already predicts and influences which lipstick shades will sell best, or which companies to market to each individual. But does this replace the individual’s creative preferences with a streamlined echo chamber derived from an algorithm?
Why does this matter? Because authenticity, experimentation, and originality require critical thinking. Recently, Microsoft surveyed 319 participants to help determine AI’s effect on critical thinking, which additionally raised concerns about a phenomenon called “mechanized convergence.” The study explained “that users with access to Gen AI tools produce a less diverse set of outcomes for the same task, compared to those without.” These authors worry that this propensity illustrates “a lack of personal, contextualized, critical and reflective judgement of AI output and thus can be interpreted as a deterioration of critical thinking.” Without critical thinking, we would be less capable of discerning pitfalls of a generative AI output.
The consequences for human creativity are twofold. First, creativity could atrophy. Microsoft’s study indicates that relying on AI may diminish our ability to engage deeply with problems. Creativity is not just about art—it is central to problem-solving, whether in business, science, or the beauty industry. Second, creativity risks losing its ritualistic, cultural, and communal dimensions. Before the recording industry, blues music was organic and communal, changing based on the moment and the musicians and community members involved. Once recorded, blues became fixed—an individual product rather than a shared experience. In beauty, we may see a similar shift. Where once trends evolved through human experimentation and subcultural influences, AI-generated styles could create a homogenized beauty landscape, reducing individual creativity to passive consumption.
Ultimately, the question isn’t whether AI can trick us—after all, both AI and human artists have produced convincing forgeries. What’s at stake is the preservation of creativity and critical thinking. Misha Rabinovich and Caitlin Foley, professors at the UMASS Lowell, worry that “creative laborers could see their slice of the pie shrink via automation.” Rather than democratizing creative endeavors, those adept at using (or those who own) AI could control creative output.
This concern is particularly pressing for industries like beauty, where artistry and individuality are paramount. Will AI empower beauty professionals by enhancing their work, or will it reduce creative expression to algorithmic predictability? The answer depends on how we use AI. To preserve human creativity, we must actively engage with it—not passively accept its outputs. This means pushing for AI applications that augment rather than replace critical thinking, ensuring that beauty remains a space for artistry, experimentation, and personal expression rather than mechanized convergence.
