OpenAI’s latest image-generation tool has gone viral, thanks to a fun feature: users can upload a photo and request a version in Studio Ghibli’s magical style. In seconds, selfies, vacation snapshots, or family portraits are transformed as if they’ve come from a Ghibli film. Overnight, social media flooded with charming Ghibli-style images. Many of my graduate students and colleagues at Yonsei changed their KakaoTalk profile pictures to their artificial intelligence-generated portraits. I even tried it, using an old photo of my spouse and myself — though we kept it private. People shared tips on how to get the best results, like a friendly secret.
But, as always, the tool was pushed further. Some created disturbing images — 9/11 scenes or violent content — in the soft, pastel Ghibli look. In response, OpenAI began tightening restrictions. You could no longer just say “make this Ghibli-style”; you had to describe the scene and request a new image in that style. Still, the genie was out of the bottle. The trend sparked broader conversations about the ethics of AI-generated art, copyright, and the long-term consequences for artists. This isn’t the first time. Back in 2016, a project called The Next Rembrandt used AI to recreate the look and feel of Rembrandt’s work, even though the artist had been gone for centuries. It was seen as a technical marvel — but also raised eyebrows. What does it mean to resurrect a style that took a lifetime to master, all with an algorithm?
One can only imagine how Rembrandt might have reacted — probably the same way still-life painters in Europe felt when photography arrived, or actors when film began to overshadow live theater. Accountants likely had similar worries when TurboTax showed up. Today, it’s voice actors dealing with AI-generated voices, and illustrators watching their styles cloned in seconds.
Beyond ethics and legality, money matters too. Once people learned they could generate Ghibli-style images, many rushed to try it. When the free version didn’t work well, they paid for a subscription. OpenAI made a profit — but Studio Ghibli and others whose styles were copied probably got nothing. Some artists, like Karla Ortiz, have spoken out. She saw her work used to train AI, creating markets that earned millions, but none of that came to her.
And beyond the money, there’s emotional harm that’s hard to measure. Take Miyazaki himself. Known for Spirited Away and My Neighbor Totoro, he’s famous for crafting each hand-drawn frame with care, often over years. Now, his style is replicated in seconds, by the millions. That would make any artist feel discouraged — especially in a time when social media wreaks havoc and quickly moves on to the next trend. It’s no surprise Miyazaki once said AI was “an insult to life itself.”
There’s even a risk that when Studio Ghibli releases a new film, audiences — already used to AI-made 'Ghibli' art — might find the real thing less special. Personally, I’ve found myself avoiding anything Ghibli-esque online, as I’ve become numb to seeing so many of those images. A brand built over decades can be diluted in weeks.
At the end of the day, ChatGPT and similar AI tools are just that — tools. The real issue is how we choose to use them. We can use AI blindly, or use it thoughtfully — with respect for creators and culture, especially when real artists are being left behind.
The best art has always been more than just technique. It carries emotion, memory, struggle and vision. People don’t love Picasso just for his brushwork — they love the name, the life, the ideas behind the work. Art is valuable because of the person who made it. When we forget that, we risk turning creativity into just another commodity.
As AI continues to evolve, we must also evolve in how we protect human dignity, creativity and meaning. We need to ask hard questions — not just about what AI can do, but what it should do. And we need to leave space for people to keep creating, expressing, imagining. If we keep outsourcing — copying and consuming — without giving back, while big tech executives take all the profits, we risk pushing out the very people whose creativity we admire. Their voices, visions and originality are not infinite resources — they require space, respect and support.
As we enjoy the playful or impressive outputs of AI, we should also stay awake to the bigger picture. The entertainment and convenience of instant — yet often banal — delivery should never come at the cost of our own agency to think, feel and create. If we let AI do all the imagining, we risk forgetting how to imagine at all. So yes — have fun, explore, experiment with generative AI tools. But don’t forget what makes your thoughts, your art and your voice truly irreplaceable. Our stories are still worth telling, and our ideas are worth turning into things — by us.
Lim Woong
Lim Woong is a professor at the Graduate School of Education at Yonsei University in Seoul. The views expressed here are the writer’s own. — Ed.
