Why Handmade Matters More Than Ever in an AI World

We’re living in a time when almost everything around us is being touched by automation. From AI-generated images, copy, and music to mass-produced products and machine-made goods, the world is quickly changing. It’s fascinating — and a little overwhelming — to see how much can be created instantly with the click of a button. But in the midst of this digital transformation, something beautiful is happening: handmade work is becoming more rare… and more valuable.

When I sit at my workbench and hand-saw, solder, or sand a piece of jewelry, I know I’m doing something that no machine or algorithm can replicate exactly. Sure, machines can create perfect symmetry and endless quantities — but they can’t bring the spirit, intention, or individuality that goes into each handmade piece. Every slight variation, every tiny imperfection, tells the story of the person behind the work. And in a world that’s increasingly filtered and fast-paced, that human touch feels grounding and special.

The rarity of handmade things is exactly what makes them so meaningful. As AI floods our feeds and factory-made goods fill our stores, the time, effort, and skill it takes to make something by hand stands out more. When something becomes rare, it becomes more valuable — not just in terms of money, but in emotional and cultural value, too. A handmade ring or cuff isn’t just an object; it’s a piece of someone’s time, energy, creativity, and love. That’s something you can feel when you hold it, and it’s not something AI can generate.

As a maker, I actually find a lot of excitement in the rise of AI — because it makes what I do all the more meaningful. My hope is that this wave of automation reminds people why they’re drawn to handmade things in the first place. Why it feels so good to wear something one-of-a-kind. Why we crave the imperfect and the personal in a world that’s increasingly digital and detached.

Handmade work isn’t going anywhere. If anything, it's becoming more important. And I’m grateful every day to be part of a tradition that celebrates the human hand — the slow, the intentional, the deeply personal — in a time when that’s becoming so rare.