Introduction

One of my favourite words in German is Zeitgeist. It captures the spirit of a particular moment in time, the collective consciousness that defines an era.

Today, that spirit feels inseparable from one word: AI.

Artificial intelligence is shaping how we see, think, and create. But as images, interfaces, and ideas become increasingly generated by algorithms, our ability to read and question them, our visual literacy becomes more important than ever.

This post explores how design and AI intertwine, and what it means to stay visually literate in a world where the line between human and machine-made visuals keeps blurring.

The Invisible Hand

Good design is supposed to be invisible, that’s what we’ve been taught.

But the more invisible it becomes, the less aware we are of the hand guiding it.

AI design tools now predict what we want before we even decide. They autocomplete, correct, and “clean up” our ideas. Every prediction, suggestion, or layout recommendation comes from a model trained on what already exists.

And so, what we call creative assistance often becomes aesthetic automation. The more we rely on these systems, the more our outputs begin to look and sound the same.

The invisible hand of AI doesn’t just shape pixels or words; it shapes behavior. It decides what’s “good,” what’s “usable,” and what’s “finished.” It teaches us to conform to its sense of taste that is optimised for engagement, not originality.

And maybe that’s the most dangerous part: when tools become too helpful, we stop noticing how much they’re helping. The best designs disappear, and with them, so does our awareness of the choices we didn’t make.

The Illusion of Understanding

It’s strange to see someone like Sam Altman, the CEO of OpenAI, using the Studio Ghibli effect on his Twitter profile. There’s something deeply ironic about it. Hayao Miyazaki, the man behind Ghibli, has always rejected the use of AI in art, calling it “an insult to life itself.”

Yet somehow, his worlds that are built on empathy and craftsmanship have been flattened into an aesthetic filter for the very technology he warned about.

But this isn’t really about Altman. It’s about what that image represents: a culture that celebrates simulation over substance.

AI gives people the illusion of creativity, a false sense of knowing, of understanding what makes art meaningful. It can replicate a painter’s brushstroke or a filmmaker’s color palette, but it can’t replicate the why behind it.

What worries me is not that AI will replace creative work, but that it will replace the process of learning. That long, messy, uncertain road of discovery that actually makes people creative.

When you skip that process, you start confusing imitation with insight. You start thinking that generating something is the same as understanding it.

Maybe the real challenge now isn’t learning how to use AI but learning how to look again.

Seeing Beyond the Surface

Visual literacy isn’t about knowing design terms or having the right taste. It’s about awareness. The ability to see what others overlook. In a world flooded with images, being visually literate means slowing down, asking why something looks the way it does, and what it’s trying to make you feel.

Here are a few simple ways to build visual literacy, with or without AI:

Look longer.
Don’t scroll past an image that catches your eye. Stop and study it. What makes it work? Composition, color, rhythm, silence? The more time you spend looking, the more patterns you start to see.
Ask “why” before “how.”
Before you try to replicate a style with AI, ask why that visual language exists in the first place. What culture or context shaped it? Understanding why always makes your work more grounded than asking how.
Use AI as a mirror, not a map.
Let it show you possibilities but don’t let it decide where to go. Use AI to challenge your taste, not define it. The goal isn’t to find the perfect image, but to discover your point of view.
Collect your own references.
Build a personal archive of what inspires you like movie stills, posters, interfaces, mistakes. Over time, this becomes your visual language. AI can remix it, but it can’t own it.
Stay uncomfortable.
The best visual thinkers are those who keep asking questions. Don’t be afraid to get lost in a style, or to make something ugly on purpose. Curiosity is the real literacy.

AI can accelerate your ideas, but it can’t replace the eyes behind them. To be visually literate today means using technology without letting it use you.

Conclusion

We’ve entered an age where understanding often feels like a click, a prompt, a generated image. But the truth is, real understanding takes time. Visual literacy isn’t about knowing what to create next, it’s about knowing what you’re looking at now.

The illusion of understanding fades when you start to see again slowly, deliberately, and with your own eyes.

Thank you for reading.

Yours truly,

Emir

P.S.

These ideas are a collection of thoughts shaped by many designers, writers, and thinkers I’ve been reading over the past few months. Their insights and reflections have inspired me to write this piece and continue exploring the connection between visual culture and technology.