
Brand work used to begin with an empty page and a little space to wander before landing on an idea with weight.
Now the first spark often comes from a model that throws out several early options before anyone settles in.
The reaction is a familiar shift in the room, not rooted in fear, but in the recognition that the warm-up lap creative teams once relied on is gone.
AI never disrupted the creative act itself.
It disrupted the long, comfortable lead-in that teams used to depend on; the stretching, the mood-board wandering, the gentle drift toward clarity that created a sense of progress even when the real decisions were still ahead.
When that runway disappears, what remains is the part clients actually value: taste, judgment, conviction, and a point of view strong enough to stand without ceremony.
AI didn’t remove creative teams from the process; it simply cleared away the places where hesitation could hide.
The work today reveals whether a team genuinely understands the brand it represents and whether it can express that identity without the cushion of ritual.
Teams with a strong sense of themselves don’t panic when an early draft appears within seconds.
They already know their voice and their audience, and they know how to guide the work. Speed isn’t a threat when clarity is already in place.
By contrast, the teams who tighten up are often the ones who relied on slow, foggy cycles to find direction.
The long drift gave them time to discover the idea while appearing to shape it, and once that space disappears, the uncertainty becomes obvious.
Adobe experienced this shift internally when Firefly rolled out. Their designers didn’t lose momentum. They gained it.
They tested layouts without meetings, explored variations without waiting for approvals, and kept the creative process intact while shedding the unnecessary noise around it.
What AI removes is not craft but delay, and once that delay is gone, intention becomes impossible to fake.
There’s a common belief that a clever prompt will uncover insight, but AI cannot create intention; it only reflects whatever clarity you already have.
If a brand’s voice is sharp and consistent, the output will carry that shape. If the identity is vague or constantly shifting, the work will feel the same.
Heinz made this point visible when they asked AI to generate images of ketchup. Even with different styles, most of the results resembled Heinz.
The model didn’t “know” ketchup. Heinz had defined the category so clearly that the tool had nothing else to reach for.
Coca-Cola’s Create Real Magic campaign followed the same logic.
The artwork came from AI, but the feeling people recognized, that bright, nostalgic optimism, came directly from Coca-Cola’s long-held identity.
The technology amplified what the brand already owned.
Strong brands give AI something substantial to work with.
Weak brands feed it loose adjectives and hope it becomes a voice. The tool reflects whatever direction it receives, and if the direction is thin, the results will be too.
That’s why so much content online sounds the same.
It’s not a problem with AI; it’s the byproduct of teams using the tool to dodge decisions instead of reinforcing identity.
Inside companies like Shell and DuPont, the relationship between people and AI looks far healthier.
The technology isn’t replacing experts. It’s clearing the path for them to get to meaningful work faster.
Shell uses AI to sift through enormous technical archives, but engineers still interpret the findings.
DuPont uses it to resurface old experiments that may be relevant, but scientists choose what matters. The tool lightens the load; it doesn’t replace interpretation.
Even Spotify Wrapped shows this split clearly. AI organizes the data, but the personality that drives the experience — the humor, the cultural instincts, the strangely personal tone — all comes from the creative team. The technology handles the mechanics. The team shapes the meaning.
What emerges in all these cases is not a shortcut around craft, but a shortcut around everything that once buried it.
When the unnecessary layers fall away, the work becomes more honest, and honesty tends to show who actually knows what they’re doing.
The companies feeling pressure right now aren’t intimidated because AI is powerful. They’re intimidated because their own foundations were fragile long before the tool appeared. Their brand voice shifts depending on who writes the copy.
Their messaging follows trends instead of anchoring to something consistent. Their guidelines bend so easily that they function more like suggestions than guardrails.
When a model can replicate that vagueness in seconds, the brand’s lack of substance becomes impossible to ignore. AI didn’t expose a new weakness. It revealed a long-standing one.
This is where the separation becomes clear. The surface-level brands fall back, and the ones with genuine identity hold steady.
We believe that business is built on transparency and trust. We believe that good software is built the same way.
Brand voice follows the same principle.
When the pace accelerates, only the teams who trust their own voice move confidently.
Everyone else gets lost in the pile of options the tool generates, unsure what fits or why.
AI didn’t level the creative field. It removed the padding.
When the warm-up disappears, the brand has to speak for itself, and teams with a strong identity don’t need long approval cycles to confirm it. They already know.
That’s why the most capable creative groups aren’t asking AI to define them. They’re using it to sharpen what they already believe.
AI can produce content.
People create meaning.
That distinction is what separates noise from work that resonates.

Brand work used to begin with an empty page and a little space to wander before landing on an idea with weight.
Now the first spark often comes from a model that throws out several early options before anyone settles in.
The reaction is a familiar shift in the room, not rooted in fear, but in the recognition that the warm-up lap creative teams once relied on is gone.
AI never disrupted the creative act itself.
It disrupted the long, comfortable lead-in that teams used to depend on; the stretching, the mood-board wandering, the gentle drift toward clarity that created a sense of progress even when the real decisions were still ahead.
When that runway disappears, what remains is the part clients actually value: taste, judgment, conviction, and a point of view strong enough to stand without ceremony.
AI didn’t remove creative teams from the process; it simply cleared away the places where hesitation could hide.
The work today reveals whether a team genuinely understands the brand it represents and whether it can express that identity without the cushion of ritual.
Teams with a strong sense of themselves don’t panic when an early draft appears within seconds.
They already know their voice and their audience, and they know how to guide the work. Speed isn’t a threat when clarity is already in place.
By contrast, the teams who tighten up are often the ones who relied on slow, foggy cycles to find direction.
The long drift gave them time to discover the idea while appearing to shape it, and once that space disappears, the uncertainty becomes obvious.
Adobe experienced this shift internally when Firefly rolled out. Their designers didn’t lose momentum. They gained it.
They tested layouts without meetings, explored variations without waiting for approvals, and kept the creative process intact while shedding the unnecessary noise around it.
What AI removes is not craft but delay, and once that delay is gone, intention becomes impossible to fake.
There’s a common belief that a clever prompt will uncover insight, but AI cannot create intention; it only reflects whatever clarity you already have.
If a brand’s voice is sharp and consistent, the output will carry that shape. If the identity is vague or constantly shifting, the work will feel the same.
Heinz made this point visible when they asked AI to generate images of ketchup. Even with different styles, most of the results resembled Heinz.
The model didn’t “know” ketchup. Heinz had defined the category so clearly that the tool had nothing else to reach for.
Coca-Cola’s Create Real Magic campaign followed the same logic.
The artwork came from AI, but the feeling people recognized, that bright, nostalgic optimism, came directly from Coca-Cola’s long-held identity.
The technology amplified what the brand already owned.
Strong brands give AI something substantial to work with.
Weak brands feed it loose adjectives and hope it becomes a voice. The tool reflects whatever direction it receives, and if the direction is thin, the results will be too.
That’s why so much content online sounds the same.
It’s not a problem with AI; it’s the byproduct of teams using the tool to dodge decisions instead of reinforcing identity.
Inside companies like Shell and DuPont, the relationship between people and AI looks far healthier.
The technology isn’t replacing experts. It’s clearing the path for them to get to meaningful work faster.
Shell uses AI to sift through enormous technical archives, but engineers still interpret the findings.
DuPont uses it to resurface old experiments that may be relevant, but scientists choose what matters. The tool lightens the load; it doesn’t replace interpretation.
Even Spotify Wrapped shows this split clearly. AI organizes the data, but the personality that drives the experience — the humor, the cultural instincts, the strangely personal tone — all comes from the creative team. The technology handles the mechanics. The team shapes the meaning.
What emerges in all these cases is not a shortcut around craft, but a shortcut around everything that once buried it.
When the unnecessary layers fall away, the work becomes more honest, and honesty tends to show who actually knows what they’re doing.
The companies feeling pressure right now aren’t intimidated because AI is powerful. They’re intimidated because their own foundations were fragile long before the tool appeared. Their brand voice shifts depending on who writes the copy.
Their messaging follows trends instead of anchoring to something consistent. Their guidelines bend so easily that they function more like suggestions than guardrails.
When a model can replicate that vagueness in seconds, the brand’s lack of substance becomes impossible to ignore. AI didn’t expose a new weakness. It revealed a long-standing one.
This is where the separation becomes clear. The surface-level brands fall back, and the ones with genuine identity hold steady.
We believe that business is built on transparency and trust. We believe that good software is built the same way.
Brand voice follows the same principle.
When the pace accelerates, only the teams who trust their own voice move confidently.
Everyone else gets lost in the pile of options the tool generates, unsure what fits or why.
AI didn’t level the creative field. It removed the padding.
When the warm-up disappears, the brand has to speak for itself, and teams with a strong identity don’t need long approval cycles to confirm it. They already know.
That’s why the most capable creative groups aren’t asking AI to define them. They’re using it to sharpen what they already believe.
AI can produce content.
People create meaning.
That distinction is what separates noise from work that resonates.