Artificial intelligence is now imitating what took decades to master. A new trend allows users to generate Studio Ghibli-style portraits of themselves using OpenAI’s ChatGPT, flooding social media with AI-crafted images.
While fans celebrate the technology, few acknowledge the deeper issue: the reduction of a painstaking art form into an automated filter. The hand-drawn, human touch that defines Ghibli is being replicated at the push of a button, and its creator, Hayao Miyazaki, once called AI an "insult to life itself."
In 2016, Miyazaki was shown an AI-generated animation of a zombie-like creature dragging itself across the ground. His reaction was clear: “I strongly feel that this is an insult to life itself.” He went further, saying, “I feel like we are nearing the end of times. We humans are losing faith in ourselves.”
To Miyazaki, art is about human experience, joy, pain, and the imperfections that make it real. AI-generated art, however, is stripped of those qualities. It mimics but does not create. It processes but does not feel. The rise of AI-generated Ghibli images ignores this fundamental truth, turning a deeply personal artistic style into something mass-produced and impersonal.
The new ChatGPT feature allows users to transform photos into Ghibli-style illustrations instantly. Even OpenAI CEO Sam Altman has embraced it, using an AI-generated Ghibli image as his profile picture. While the technology is impressive, it raises a troubling question: Should AI be allowed to mimic an artist’s work without consent?
Ghibli’s distinct style, seen in Grave of the Fireflies, Spirited Away, My Neighbor Totoro, When Marnie Was There, and many others, was never just about aesthetics. It was about storytelling, tradition, and a philosophy that values hand-drawn animation over shortcuts. Yet, AI strips away the labour and intent behind these works, leaving behind a hollow imitation.
Ghibli animators dedicate years to perfecting single sequences. Animator Eiji Yamamori spent more than a year on a four-second crowd scene in The Wind Rises. This level of dedication is what gives Ghibli films their soul. In contrast, AI generates similar-looking images in seconds, effortlessly, but empty.
There’s a clear difference between admiration and appropriation. The AI-generated Ghibli trend is not an homage; it’s a mass-produced replica, created without the permission of those who pioneered the style. It removes the human element that makes art meaningful, reducing it to an algorithm-driven process.
Despite AI-generated Ghibli art going viral, Studio Ghibli has remained silent. But Miyazaki’s stance is well-documented. He has spent his career rejecting shortcuts, whether through computer animation or AI tools. His silence speaks volumes: he would not approve.
As AI continues to reshape creative industries, the ethical debate grows louder. Should art be something that can be copied and generated at will? If AI can mimic the greatest artists without their consent, where does that leave the value of true craftsmanship?
Miyazaki once feared a world where humans lose faith in themselves. If AI-generated art continues unchecked, creativity risks becoming a disposable commodity- quick, cheap, and devoid of soul. The question isn’t whether AI can imitate art. The question is whether we should let it.