The New Robotic Revolution: Wabi-Sabi in the Age of AI
I recently listened to a conversation between Simon Sinek and Steven Bartlett where Sinek painted a striking picture. Something that hasn’t left my thoughts since.
He noted that ‘nature abhors a vacuum and always strives to find a balance’. When the first robotic revolution came about in the 1970s and 80s, factory floors were reconfigured and entire generations of labourers were told their services were no longer needed. Betrayed by their bosses to whom they entrusted their livelihoods and happiness, they were replaced by machines who were faster and more efficient. The robots could work day and night for the cost of electricity and an annual maintenance check. They needn’t take sick days, holidays or maternity leave.
When asked by their former work staff, what they should now do, the response from the bosses was blunt: “Reskill. Retrain. This is the future. Learn to live with it. Adapt or perish.”
Today, 40-50 years later, we see a similar disruption in society. This time, the robots are made of code. AI is spreading through the working world like wildfire, consuming tasks, jobs, and even entire industries once thought untouchable. This time, it's not blue-collar workers on the line. Now it is the knowledge workers like: designers, writers, administrators, analysts, financial advisors, solicitors, coders, basically any job that uses a computer. Kids in basements with AI tools are now doing what used to take whole departments, at a fraction of the cost, in a fraction of the time. Companies are moving fast, and people are scrambling to keep up. The cycle repeats: “Change. Reskill. Retrain.”
Nature (or the environment we humans operate in) found a balance.
At the same time, something fascinating is happening beneath the surface.
In a world where the production of ‘digital’, ‘standardised’ and ‘automated’ accelerates, the analogue world: the world of material, craft, and human touch, is quietly gaining new value and appreciation. The people who work with their hands — plumbers, electricians, hospitality, artisans, etc., are not scared of being replaced by AI. They are, in fact, becoming more respected, more in demand. And those of us who work in craft, who shape things slowly and deliberately, are watching the world come back around. Handmade-, imperfect-, deliberate-, unique-, purposeful- and custom creations have become a new ‘standard of value’ as have become the hands and minds that create them.
An example: Artists are being asked to sign affidavits, a legally binding document, a statement under oath, to verify that they made what they say they made and that it wasn’t an AI that produced the high end artwork people hand over a lot of money for. Why? Because sometimes we cannot see the difference anymore. AI has already become that good at copying us. Some might say, if it doesn’t look any different, why pay the big bucks if a cheap AI copy looks the same? And if you are buying it to spruce up your room, go for it. Others look for the exclusivity to own something true and real, an investment in the artist, in the story and become a registered owner on the physical ‘blockchain’ of this piece of art’s starting pedigree. Whether you respond to someone signalling that they can pay a premium sum for something or not, that is besides the point. It is very honourable for someone to want to invest their hard earned cash in an artist’s story and career to keep art alive.
In my own field of violin making this resonates deeply as well. I am by no means a purist and I appreciate the hybrid nature of our industry. There is a place in the trade for factory made instruments (after all, it is unreasonable to ask starters to invest in an artisan made instrument before they even know if they are going to be playing for long), though even in this segment of the market there is also a place for a professional local workshop to do a full and thorough custom set-up adjustment to make sure everything is as good as it can be for the freshly starting player. When the starter gets more serious about music and develops their ear and idea for what they would like from a future instrument, the small independents are their only place to look.
Standardisation means cheap production. It also means that it will not be fit for use for up to 86% of users. It is not surprising then, that medical research finds up to 86% of string players face a playing related injury or ache and pain in arm, shoulders neck, back and hands. Individual artisans are your only option for a custom designed instrument.
Sure a player looking for an upgrade might get lucky at an auction, but if there is damage to the instrument, players aren’t usually able to see it, nor judge the expense and expertise necessary to repair it. Independent makers and restorers do not mass-produce. We don’t seek perfection in the modern sense. Each instrument is unique, asymmetrical, organic, alive. And in this, I see a kind of defiance, not against technology (we use technology just like the next business), but a defiance against the assumption that progress must always mean faster, cheaper, shinier, and more uniform, without blemish, spot or seam. For artisan creators, the bottom line isn’t about USD, GBP, EUR, BTC or any other inflation subjectable currency. The bottom line for us makers, is our collective culture and our soul. The very things that make us human beings.
The Japanese have a beautiful term for this philosophy: wabi-sabi. It is made of wabi, ‘that which is imperfect’, and sabi, ‘that which shows its age’. In the creative world it means ‘the appreciation of imperfection and of the natural cycle of growth and aging on pieces of handmade art’. The term reminds us of beauty that’s subtle, irregular, real and evolving with an expiration date'. In a world being overrun by artificial intelligence and artificial polishes and -filters, artificial art and soon synthetic data (information created by an AI which was instructed by an AI), wabi-sabi reminds us of the value of the handmade, the flawed and the real.
Maybe now the ones who never stopped to create with purpose, even in the face of ridicule for their life choice by family members pushing for a knowledge based career as doctors and lawyers and business executives, the craftspeople, are the ones lighting the path forward into the future.
And yet, the irony deepens. In May 2025, the decision makers at Lincoln College announced their plans to close down the historic Newark Violin Making School along with its entire suite of Instrument Craft programmes. One of the few institutions in the world dedicated to training instrument craftspeople. Why? To make way for “fully funded, tuition-free, online courses in coding in service of AI and app making, ‘counselling’, ‘appreciation for environmental sustainability’ and other courses arising from humanity feeling a collective lack of purpose and authenticity.” In a world starved for specifically these things: authenticity, skill, uniqueness, and substance, we are witnessing the dismantling of the very institutions that are supposed to preserve them. Exactly like the factory bosses in the 80s that were supposed to look after the workers and… didn’t. The message is clear: even in education, the priority has shifted from slow mastery to scalable automation. It is a deeply troubling sign of where we are headed and what we are willing to discard.
Now more than ever, we need to make conscious choices about a society we want to live in. Support your local community: buy from artisans, not algorithms. Invest in handmade goods that carry stories, soul, skill and intent.
If this message resonates with you, please consider adding your voice to the Save Newark Challenge — a campaign to protect the future of instrument craft education. It costs nothing, apart from a few seconds. You can learn more and sign the petition here: Save Newark Challenge Petition.
Because when we lose institutions like Newark, we don’t just lose skills - which is terrible enough already. We also break an educational line of over 400 years of skills transfer that you cannot simply teach via the world wide web. Once this is lost, collectively we lose a little more of what makes us human.
To achieve this 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 offer custom solutions to your unique instrument queries.
One instrument at a time.
Our mission has remained the same from the start: 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.