As visitors step off Boston’s breezy streets and through the shadowed entryway of the WNDR Museum (pronounced ‘Wonder’), their attention is immediately drawn to the softly illuminated flowers winding around the space’s jet-black walls that cast warm light onto them below. The flowers, drawn by children of museum employees using technology to upscale and project, are part of an installation titled “WNDR Flowers,” according to the general manager, Giancarlo Natale. In the hallway beyond, mirrors stretch from floor to ceiling, doubling the luminous effect and drawing visitors deeper into the museum’s curated dreamscape. It’s a playful introduction to what awaits, a space that not only displays art but indirectly showcases ongoing debates around the meaning of creation in an age of machine learning and digital tools. 

Here, the integration of artificial intelligence into the art world takes center stage, inviting viewers to confront these themes in accessible ways. One of the museum’s 20 displays, “Untitled by You,” allows visitors to create their own artwork using a text-to-image AI tool, as their prompts are instantly translated into visual art displayed on screens. “It’s definitely not the expected look-at-a-painting type of art,” said Boston University student and visitor Sheila Garcia ’26, who sees the installation as an exciting new experience. “It’s fascinating to watch it create something out of thin air,” she said, watching as four variations of her prompt, “a penguin tea party at sunset,” materialized across oversized screens. One portrait was reminiscent of a watercolor painting, with muted colors and soft digital strokes. Another was more similar to a cut from an animated film, and another appeared to be a more realistic portrait that you might find on a movie poster. 

As a museum, WNDR becomes representative of a cultural moment in flux, where the boundaries separating artist, audience and algorithm become blurred. While it borrows the trappings of traditional environments with curated spaces and thoughtful design, it defies some unspoken rules by trading quiet observance for sensory overload and encouraging visitors (in most instances) to touch, play and co-create. The installations beg engagement, inviting visitors to communicate through tin can phones, walk barefoot across floors rigged with motion-sensor lights and literally step into the artwork in some cases. It feels fresh and innovative, but also somewhat disorienting at times. 

“Seeing the flaws in the output, like the warped figures or missing details, is a reminder that even the machines are still learning,” Garcia continued. “I would never take the time to make something like this in real life, but that’s what makes it so addicting,” she adds. This interrogation enhances WNDR’s appeal, as its existence echoes some of the art world’s current tensions; a tug of war between human ingenuity and technology, between tradition and innovation. 

In the context of artificial intelligence and its functions, how these tools are used often reveals more about their potential than the art they help to create. At its best, AI can serve as an assistant that bolsters the creative process in a way that enhances rather than replaces one’s artistic voice. “I definitely use it earlier in the process,” said Hailey Turpin ’26 who is studying fashion design. “When I am trying to put together reference photos for a project, and all I have in mind are certain silhouettes or textiles,” she continued, “it helps to experiment with themes and decide what works concerning my vision.” 

For Koel Patel ’25, a visual art major with an emphasis in graphic design, AI tools have enabled parts of her artistic expression in new ways. In recent projects, she has used Photoshop’s Generative Fill feature, which is powered by Adobe Firefly AI, to remake urban scenes. Her latest piece replaced features of urban streetscapes such as concrete streets, storefront windows and landscape details with distorted and stylized designs. Patel said she relied on AI for less than 20% of the work; the rest came from her own photography. “I think it’s more about, look what AI can help you achieve, rather than look what AI can do for you,” she commented, highlighting the supportive rather than substitutive role of AI in her creative process. 

Others also recognize that integrating AI challenges assumptions concerning who creates, participates and decides what art is. This appearance of accessibility is observed in how proponents understand AI as democratizing artistic creation, by lowering technical barriers and offering a broader range of people access to tools that allow them to take part in the creative process. Natale understands these tools as “help[ing] to bring the new generation into art through a different lens.” “Anyone who has a vision can see that vision come to life,” he added. WNDR situates itself within this utopia of technology, accessibility and creativity working in harmony, exemplified by one of its exhibits that boldly asserts “We Are All Artists” in neon letters. “Here we believe that everybody is an artist, even if you don’t know it,” Natale explained. “Just by coming here and participating, you are an artist.”

Still, students who embrace AI’s potential struggle with its limits, weary of the line between enhancement and dependency. Turpin stresses that she and others should approach it with intentionality, using its capabilities to complement existing skills rather than use them in place of them. “Everything we see comes from a source of inspiration, whether it’s from media, nature, or other media,” she mentions. “It’s not creating the vision, just helping me to clarify what is there and what ideas are viable.”

Yet, for some, the outcomes and spectrum of applications of these AI tools fuel discomfort with AI’s role in creative spaces. Museum-goer Anna Hodges, who describes herself as an avid consumer of the arts, finds the appeal of art in its process and interpretation. “I get excited about the story behind the creation, not just the final product,” she reflected. This perspective aligns with broader opinions that understand creativity to be an essential human trait that machines, no matter how sophisticated, cannot imitate. “Intention and creativity create depth that sets us apart from machines,” she continued. “You lose that when you give AI creative autonomy in a way… I don’t know if it’s as meaningful. When I look at it, it feels hollow.” 

These sentiments echo broader concerns over the value of art against the proliferation of AI-generated images. As Hodges perceives these applications as “creating images by just typing in words,” with the result “being interpreted as art,” it is clear that this practice could feel inconsistent with the process of traditional artistry in suggesting that it diminished the labor and thought behind traditional art making. This perceived manipulation of creativity resulting in a generated product points to additional unease concerning how technology disrupts ideations of value within the art world. The ease with which AI can churn out images that are often “good enough” for consumers has led to fears of devaluing original human creativity and effort. Although optimistic about the potential of these tools, Koel agreed about the challenges created by the blurred lines between traditional and digital art, noting that she “definitely wonder[s] about whether it will become harder for human creators to stand out.” 

Beyond questions of creativity, these concerns bleed into ethical debates over originality and ownership. Sometimes, the introduction of AI into creative spaces represents an existential threat rather than an exciting innovation. To Elijah Hayes, a recent graduate who is considering pursuing a graduate degree in computer art and design, the use of AI image generators creates an “internal dilemma” when he “knows it’s pulling from other people’s real work.” Hayes is referencing ethical concerns tied to the generative algorithms that text-to-image platforms such as MidJourney and DALL-E employ. These generative AI systems are trained on extensive datasets taken from all corners of the internet, including existing and copyrighted works by artists who never consented to their use. While the outputs can appear to be original, their reliance on existing content obfuscates the distinction between inspiration and replication. “My main concern is what this does to the future of my industry and creative human industries in general,” Hayes said. 

This issue has already sparked legal intervention. In January of 2023, a group of visual artists filed a lawsuit against major artificial intelligence companies such as Stability AI Ltd, MidJourney Inc. and DeviantArt Inc. The lawsuit adds to a quickly emerging string of intellectual property disputes over AI generated work, claiming these companies are training their algorithms on copyrighted images without permission or compensation. As Hayes suggested, perhaps the use of these platforms to create AI art would be “more acceptable if it treated creators like the music industry does.” “Sampled works should be credited and royalties should be paid. How is using the collective creativity of artists without recognition different from theft?” he stressed. 

For artists, students and audiences alike, the debate is not simply about the tools themselves, but rather exposes a cultural reckoning with what it means to make, share and experience art within a landscape often disturbed by the implications of evolving technology.