I am addicted to Instagram. I promise I’m not being dramatic — last week, my weekly average time spent on the mobile application surpassed 13 hours. Now, to my credit, I haven’t succumbed to the lure of TikTok, X is a disaster, Snapchat hasn’t been fun since middle school and at 21 years old, I still feel too young for Facebook.
So, I find myself on Instagram Island, with other social media algorithms barely visible on the horizon. Because of this, I’m far-removed from most popular online trends. But I know more than most about small, niche communities, especially bookish ones. I can’t open the app without seeing a meme, artwork or quote about one of my favorite book series. I collect these posts like rare gems.
The addiction runs deep, and my brain is likely forever damaged because of it, but it’s also opened my eyes to a lot of things I wouldn’t otherwise know about. Namely, the importance of artists and the fight against artificial intelligence-driven “art.”
AI impact
My Instagram feed is plagued with AI “art,” though to me, it is nothing but plagiarism. Instagram seemingly has no qualms with highlighting AI “artists,” which to me is a disservice to real artists. I spend hours hiding, restricting and blocking AI content, and yet somehow it makes its way into my feed time and time again.
Each AI “art” post takes the place of a bookish artist who spent countless hours poring over truly spectacular artwork. It’s a disgrace. Fan artists are the heart and soul of online fandoms and communities, and they deserve better.
To be clear, I’m not anti-AI, I think it has the potential to do some really great things. But, as a journalist and future educator, I can’t view AI “art” as anything but plagiarism because it is curated from artists who have not consented to the use of their work, nor do they receive credit for it.
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For creatives like Bronwyn Lipka, 25-year-old freelance illustrator and bookish artist from Sterling Heights, the reality of having their work stolen is ever-present.
“(AI ‘artists’ are) essentially stealing your art, but there’s no way to know if they’re doing it because there’s no accountability,” Lipka said.
And it’s not just the AI “artists” that are contributing to this culture of unaccountability. In May, a Meta executive said the company considers public Instagram posts to be part of its training data. Including generative AI art training. There is no way to opt out, unless an artist is fortunate enough to live in the European Union. But, even then, users have to go through a lengthy dispute process.
This puts artists in an impossible position. Now, they must decide if continuing to use Meta apps, including Instagram and Facebook, where they’ve cultivated a following is worth AI stealing their intellectual property.
“What do you do at that point, where the stuff you’re making is literally owned by someone else?” Lipka said.
Who benefits?
So why does this all matter? Obviously, if artists are unhappy with Meta’s policies, they can just stop using the apps, right?
Not exactly. For one, Meta claims the right to use anything posted to their platforms. So, even if an artist were to delete their account, it would be too late. Their data is already embedded within Meta’s systems and algorithms.
Many of my favorite fan-artists have made the move to Cara, a platform that does not use AI models on user content. Since Meta’s policy shift, Cara has gained over 600,000 users. But, the program simply doesn’t have the bandwidth to support as many starving artists as Meta platform users do.
So, my question is: Who is this benefiting? It’s not the artists that work tirelessly to create artwork and provide for themselves. It’s not bookish fans, who certainly aren’t enjoying the soulless work of technological creation. Ultimately, if artists continue to leave Meta platforms, the bookish community will struggle.
Worse, if the bookish community starts to fade, book sales will plummet right down with them.
Prank becomes social experiment
For those doubting the prominence of fan artists, consider the case of Aria O. Brush, who joined the Bookstagram community on Feb. 21 and started posting about her upcoming “Romantasy” book, “A Pact Repaid in Lust: Fallen Oracle of Lok Samir.”
If you look closely at the title, you’ll notice that the first letter in each word spells April Fools. There was no book at all. But the fan art came anyway.
According to Brush’s Instagram post on April 2, months prior, “over 30 bookish artists came together to create the lore and characters for this collaboration.” Brush posted content for a few months, slowly releasing various romantic tropes, a title and cover art. On April 1, the account exploded with bookish buzz. Nearly all my favorite fan art creators posted art curated specifically for this book, including well-known names in the bookish community like Mads Schofield.
All the posts directed Instagram users to the author’s page, where there was a Linktree allowing interested readers to pre-order the novel, though no one was able to make a payment. If you tried, you’d be sent to a broken link page or an explanation of the prank.
“I definitely fell for it, I fell for it so hard it wasn’t even funny,” Lipka said. “The impact of it alone, nonetheless, was so insane. People see art like that and they’re like ‘I want to read that book to feel the feelings that art just gave me.’”
In the same Instagram post, the facilitator of the prank said, “this turned into a very interesting social experiment about how bookish artists can help market a debut book with near zero exposure and we’re going to share some stats in the aftermath.”
On April 1 alone — this entirely fake book account with minimal exposure or traction — gained 2,100+ followers, 45,612 accumulated likes, 17,000+ Linktree views and 21,550+ clicks.
Protect artists
Meta is not the only platform to implement policies that are killing art as we know it. Adobe quietly updated its terms and conditions in February, stating it could access user content to develop “techniques such as machine learning in order to improve (Adobe’s) Services and Software.” On June 18, the company clarified its original stance and said it does not train AI on user content, but users aren’t convinced. And honestly, I’m not either.
“How can Adobe say that they own anything that’s created in Photoshop? It’s so confusing to me – how does it benefit them? Why is it necessary?” Lipka said.
The bookish community is just one small fraction of artists affected by these companies’ decisions, and it’s not just artists. AI is infiltrating everything, with little to no regulation. I am sick and tired of AI overtaking and manipulating human creation.
Though I am not against AI, I cannot stand for the continuous lack of forethought in deciding where and when it should be used. I urge Meta, Adobe and any other companies introducing AI into their programming to consider the ethics of doing so, before it’s too late.
Bella Bakeman is an opinion intern at the Detroit Free Press. Contact: ibakeman@freepress.com. Submit a letter to the editor at freep.com/letters and we may publish it online and in print.
