Here’s How I Use It Without Losing Myself.

A creative’s guide to using AI wisely — with the A.C.T.D. framework. 

I will seem a little controversial in this article, but AI (artificial intelligence) is becoming a constant in this creative world.  Do I use it?  Yes.  How?  When I don’t know how to do things, like speak Chinese.  When I need to have a copy editor to check my grammar and spelling.  When it comes to photography do I use it?  Not in the creation of a photograph, but sometimes yes to edit for me.  There are tools in Photoshop that are useful to the photographer like generative fill, for example..

But what is AI?  The large language models, the generative image tools?  Does it write code for developers?  Yes it can, but as most things it is a machine and never forget that.  It is learning, and think of it as being an eager student ready to learn.  It doesn’t get it right all the time, and it can, like any human, make mistakes.  It is a computer.  It does exactly what you tell it to do.  Does it understand British understatement,  sarcasm or banter?  No, because it still needs training.

But like most things, does it live up to the hype?  No, especially if you don’t know how to talk to it.   When I talk to people about how I use AI, I always share my A.C.T.D. framework. 

A is for Actor. I tell AI: “Act as my editor,” or “Act as my literary agent.” AI thrives on context — so give it one. For example: “Act as a specialist in vegan cooking.” (Yes, very controversial — I did warn you.) 

C is for Context. AI thrives on it. Give it background — what you’re trying to achieve, who your audience is, or why this matters. 

T is for Task. Be specific. Tell it exactly what you want — not “help me write,” but “write a 300-word intro about AI for photographers.” 

D is for “Think Deeply.” Ask AI to reflect before answering — in ChatGPT, click “Think”; in Qwen, you may need to select a reasoning-focused model.

And here’s the truth no one talks about enough: AI doesn’t create — it remixes. It feeds on human-made content — blogs, photos, code, songs, even tweets. And as anyone who’s scrolled the internet knows… a lot of that data is complete bollocks.

It’s trained on our best ideas — and our worst. Our genius — and our garbage. So if you feed it junk, it gives you junk back. If you give it context, clarity, and care — it can help you refine your own voice. Not replace it.

But tell me Ian what can’t it do?  It seems to be replacing everyone in translation and creative industries?  I get it, we all sorry about that, but you can learn how to spot AI content on the internet.  People once said a photograph never lies, but we soon found out that it could lie to us.  It can’t replace that personal interaction and accompagnement, such as sitting with a client before a shoot.  It can’t replace the feeling you get when you receive your prints from the photographer, and you realise that all that prep was worth it.  

I have met people who have told me that I have a beautiful camera, and that it must take beautiful pictures.  Well?  It can’t.  Like the person who says yeah but I can do that on my mobile…  Generally they can’t.  We still have our craft.  A computer can’t do that for us.  I can’t replace our artistic vision, despite trying to tell us that it can.  At best it can only provide an emulation.

I first wanted to learn about the internet when it first came out.  I wanted to know how to use it before my children would tell me.  That was over 25 years ago.  I approach AI in the same way.  It doesn’t have all the answers, but when well used, it’s a bloody good tool to have in your kit.

This isn’t about rejecting AI—it’s about reclaiming agency. When I give it clear context and a specific task, it becomes a mirror for my own creativity. But the song? The photo? The feeling in your hands when you hold a print? Those aren’t AI’s work. They’re yours. The tool sharpens the craft—but only the human holds the vision. So use AI like a darkroom chemical: a helper, not the artist. And never forget: the most revolutionary thing in your kit isn’t silicon. It’s you.

P.S. The song above? Written entirely by AI. It’s witty, structured, and even tugs at the heart—proof that AI can imitate craft. But it didn’t feel heartbreak. It didn’t choose to love a rescue dog more than its human partner. That irony, that ache? That’s still ours. AI remixes our stories. We give them meaning.