AI and Art: A Conversation with Kamal Koria

Me and Dad talking AI in the park.

The world of art is buzzing with talk about Artificial Intelligence, and honestly, it's a topic that often makes me pause. AI-generated images are everywhere, sparking endless debates about what creativity truly means and who gets to be called an artist. As Kamal Koria's daughter, I've been thinking a lot about this brave new world, especially when I look at the deeply human and traditional art my father creates.

Just the other day, I was chatting with him in his studio, surrounded by his vibrant canvases.

"Dad," I started, "what do you make of all this AI art? It's everywhere now, creating images that look so real, sometimes even like paintings."

He paused, a thoughtful look on his face, and gestured towards a half-finished piece. "AI art, you say? Well, my art... it comes from here," he said, tapping his chest over his heart, then his temple. "It comes from my memories, from what I've seen and felt."

I nodded. "But some of it is so clever, it can mimic different styles. You know, like your bold lines, or even the way Modigliani influenced your faces."

Kamal smiled gently. "It can mimic, yes. It can process millions of images and learn patterns. But can it feel the dust on a rural Indian road? Can it remember the laughter of the working women I grew up surrounded by? Can it capture the anguish and joy of living in a city like Ahmedabad? My lines, even when I use the simplest form for a face, or choose to show often just one eye, they carry those memories. They carry the weight of a lifetime of observation, of living those stories."

"My art is about the human touch. It's about the hand that mixes the pigments, the eye that sees beyond the surface, the heart that pours emotion onto the canvas. An algorithm can replicate a brushstroke, but can it replicate the subtle nuance born from a memory, or the quiet strength I felt from the women in my village? I don't believe so."

"So, you don't see AI as a threat, or even a tool for your own creative process?" I asked.

He leaned back, a familiar twinkle in his eye. "Look, at my age, I've seen many changes over the decades – the airbrush, the computer... New technologies come and go. Perhaps with all this new digital art, the hand-made piece, the one with the artist's personal touch, may hold even more value now, don't you think?" He paused, then continued, with a simple earnestness, "Besides, I just want to draw and paint. And I'm happy to block out the noise for now."

In an age where technology pushes boundaries at lightning speed, Kamal Koria's paintings serve as a beautiful reminder of the irreplaceable value of human artistry. They are a testament to the fact that true art emerges not just from skill, but from the depths of personal history, emotion, and an inimitable human spirit. And having seen these powerful images develop over the years, from early sketches to finished canvases, it's truly remarkable to witness how my father, Kamal, has continually refined his vision, making each face tell an even deeper, more authentic story. It's this authentic, tangible connection that I believe will always resonate most profoundly with those who engage with his work. In the future it may change, my explorational work is already influenced by AI but for my fathers work, it's 100% non AI. A rarity.