AI in design, friend or foe?
I’ve been designing furniture for over a decade, and lately, I feel a strange lethargy creeping in—something I struggle to put into words. Maybe it’s burnout. Maybe it’s the weight of an industry that feels increasingly disconnected from the artistry I once fell in love with. Or maybe, it’s the unsettling presence of AI and over-consumption reshaping the landscape in ways I never anticipated.
Furniture used to be about storytelling. A chair wasn’t just a chair; it was a statement about craftsmanship, about the way hands and minds worked together to create something that lasts. But today, as AI-generated designs flood the industry, I sometimes feel like I’m competing with a machine that doesn’t need rest, doesn’t feel inspiration, and doesn’t agonize over details the way I do. It can churn out thousands of concepts in seconds, an endless sea of “new” that dilutes the significance of the work I’ve spent years refining.
And then there’s the issue of consumerism—this insatiable hunger for more. Fast furniture has followed in the footsteps of fast fashion, where objects are churned out at an alarming rate, destined to be replaced just as quickly. It’s heartbreaking. Where is the soul in that? Where is the connection to the materials, the artisans, the traditions? I want to create pieces that become heirlooms, not landfill.
I can’t help but wonder—how do I reclaim that sense of purpose? How do I design in a way that resists the tide of disposability and automation? Perhaps the answer lies in slowness. In intention. In standing firm against the pressure to be endlessly prolific and instead embracing the quiet beauty of crafting something that matters.
Maybe lethargy isn’t the enemy. Maybe it’s my body and mind begging me to step back, breathe, and remember why I started designing in the first place. And if I can find my way back to that, then perhaps, just perhaps, the work will feel meaningful again.
Ok, so, here’s the ironic part… AI wrote that. A few prompts in ChatGPT and some personal notes for tone of voice and here we are, AI managed to sum up how I feel and put into words something I’ve been pondering for a while. Except, it’s not exactly right.
Although I feel a little of all the above, I also feel hope. I still love what I do, I still find furniture and interiors inspiring and have a desire to create and innovate. The key detail missing from the above is that it’s not a fight.
We can still be creative, and create things with purpose, but we must embrace AI as a tool to do that. It’s not going to disappear and instead of complaining about change, I want to learn and adapt to this new age of design. AI can be a useful tool that helps fill in the gaps when we are struggling with creative inspiration, or help to shape a concept into something we couldn’t quite put our finger on. It can help us to visualise ideas quickly and create a new way of working that is faster, more fluid and maybe even better.
I recently started my journey in understanding how to embrace AI as a tool to assist in my workload so that I can focus on the parts of design that I most enjoy.
Although AI is relatively new, it is growing and learning at a pace that unsettles many of us in creative roles. However, it’s important to remember that, for now at least, AI won’t take over. As designers, we still hold the torch when it comes to deciding what constitutes good design, whether it can be manufactured, and if it is commercially viable. We must also rely on our experience to determine whether a design is original or merely a copy of someone else’s work. While our roles may evolve in this new era of digital advancement, my ethos as a designer remains unchanged. I still believe in great design and want to be a part of design for the future.
Although this is a volatile period of discovery and implementation, I believe it will eventually settle into a great partnership with a digital friend—not foe.