The New Robotic Revolution, Part II: Wabi-Sabi in the Age of AI
In the previous article I already referenced Sir Isaac Newton’s third law on ‘motion’: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.
In our time, that action is the relentless advance of artificial intelligence. The reaction? A quiet return to what is real.
As machines get faster, cheaper, and more precise, the human impulse is shifting toward authenticity, imperfection, and substance. Toward things made with time and care. Toward things that carry meaning, not just utility.
The Japanese have a word for this, or rather two words that together perfectly describe the essence of human art, design, craft and culture.
Wabi-sabi, the beauty found in imperfection and impermanence.
“Wabi” is the elegance and uniqueness of asymmetry: no two completely handmade objects from the same maker can be exactly the same. By ways of the artist choosing different materials, or natural materials that cannot be the same. There is beauty in the imperfection. Needless to mention (but I’ll do it anyway!) that we mean an imperfection that is not the exact same imperfection that is copied in a whole line of copies after one original.
To connect this to violinmaking for instance, a lot of people in the violin industry spend an awful lot of time copying a handful of models from instrument makers that have been gone for centuries, aging the new copies after the same originals in the exact same way. Where this has a purpose during a training process to grow skills in eye-hand coordination, blindly copying has no purpose in a true artisan’s workshop. Why not create something that is uniquely you?
“Sabi” is the dignity and uniqueness of age: no two art pieces live the same life, so therefore cannot bear the same marks of wear from that life.
Together, wabi-sabi reminds us that true beauty doesn’t lie in flawless polish, but in the trace of the maker’s hand and mind.
It is the antithesis of mass production and a quiet act of defiance in the age of AI.
Authenticity is the new luxury
We are approaching a point where even experts can no longer tell whether a painting, a song, or a short story was created by a human or an algorithm.
So now, high-end art collectors are already asking for affidavits, a legal and signed statement in American practiced law, to state that the artist is real, that this particular piece was made by this artist’s hand and sprouted from their creativity. Not because the AI versions aren’t convincing, but because convincing is no longer enough. They want real. They want story. They want soul.
And more than that, they want to be part of something meaningful.
Buyers of original work today aren’t just consumers, they are supporters of living artists, investors in culture, and signalers of value.
By purchasing something handmade, they are signalling to the world (and the ‘Joneses’):
“I choose the real. I choose the human. I choose to invest in what cannot be mass-produced.”
There is also an element of future value: a belief that what is handmade and authenticated will appreciate not only financially, but culturally. Because when everything can be copied, the original becomes a kind of gold standard — a physical token of trust, truth, and time. Handmade pieces are also an interesting investment opportunity, one that states, that you are choosing a different path from everyone else.
This tells us something vital:
The future won’t just be about what can be made, but about who made it.
If art becomes indistinguishable from simulation, we may start paying more for imperfection than we ever paid for precision.
Not because imperfection is better, but because it is proof of humanity.
The diminishing of a legacy
And yet, while the world rediscovers the handmade, institutions meant to protect it are under threat.
In May 2025, Lincoln College announced the closure of the historic Newark School of Violin Making, along with its full suite of Instrument Craft programmes. One of the world’s few dedicated training centres for luthiers and instrument makers — dismantled.
In its stead have arisen Lincoln College social media ads of ‘fully funded’, ‘tuition free’, ‘study from home’, ‘online courses’ in mediating, childcare, and appreciation for environmental solutions, etc. Necessary professions, but not completely safe from AI threats and for all of these, practical in-person tuition with expert feedback is vital to become good at your chosen career.
The irony is hard to miss. We are starving for authenticity, uniqueness, and tactile skill — and in response, we are shuttering the very schools that preserve those things.
It’s the same pattern we saw during the first robotic revolution:
Institutions tasked with stewardship abandon their guardianship in favour of scale, speed, and profit.
And once we break that line of knowledge, the craft passed down from hand to hand for over 400 years and a European philosophy that is much, much older,
it cannot be repaired with a YouTube tutorial.
Culture Is Not a Commodity
This isn’t just about Newark. It’s about what kind of society we want to live in.
One where every artefact is manufactured by the lowest bidder in a race to the bottom where everyone loses?
Or…
One where story, skill, new ideas and substance still have a place?
To help tip the balance towards handmade on the grand scale, we need ambassadors to champion culture: visionaries with a conscience in positions where they can make a difference. In the meantime we at Bridge Street Violins are here to not just sell you instruments.
We offer custom solutions to individual human needs. One instrument, one musician, one story at a time.
Our mission has remained constant:
to empower our clients to live a life that is full of opportunity and free of constraints,
so they can match their potential and inspire others to do the same.
How we do this is by helping musicians find the perfect instrument through expert sales, rentals, custom design and creation, services, repairs, and restoration of fine string instruments including: violin, viola, cello, cello da spalla, and double bass.
So let’s talk about how we can empower you to do just that.
How You Can Help
I am pleased to read today, that due to the outcry of protest on the news about the Newark courses being closed down effectively, the colleges are now again looking for a way forward to keep the craft courses open. In the defence of the school, the problem has always been that school tried to stay open with the fully self-funded overseas students in the mix. When I attended Newark, the courses used to being rated at level 2 (foundation - equivalent to GCSE) and level 3 (main curriculum - equivalent to A-levels). My tuition was mostly covered by the EU. After Brexit, the Home office was closing off any overseas student visas for any course under level 4, so a creative solution had to be found.
By making the craft courses audited by Hull University (raising the bar to level 5, and level 6 resp.), they were covered and overseas students could still attend. Unfortunately this also brought added tuition costs, raising them to UK university level fees, though with students able to get student funding. We all know, the British Isles alone cannot support a school of this size on their own - 95% of the students when I was attending, were from abroad, with the majority being non-British-Europeans. Returning to a diploma course is perfectly fine, as long as global students can also enrol. If not, the school, I fear, is still doomed to diminish and end someday soon.
To bring this about we need a push for political interest and support exceptions for niche craft courses to these visa restrictions.
That would be the next step in solving this immediate problem.
If this message about a global loss of culture and cultural institutions resonates with you, please consider adding your voice to the
Save Newark Challenge, a campaign to protect the future of instrument craft education. Even though there are developments, we still need to push this forward!
It takes only seconds to sign, but your support helps preserve generations of skill and culture.
Sign the Petition → Save Newark Challenge
Because when we lose institutions like Newark, we don’t just lose techniques, students, teachers, workbenches, posters, casts and tools.
We lose a piece of what makes us human.