1. What’s the Alternative? — The Artisan Who Creates Value Through Art
In an age where AI replaces cognitive labor, we need a new prototype of “craftsmanship” if we want to preserve anything we can still call human. The traditional artisan model—based on community recognition and narrow technical mastery—no longer works as a role model in modern society.
So, how does the new artisan survive?
Here’s the blunt answer: a solo artisan must create added value through artistic value, not functional skill.
Why? Because functional expertise is now being standardized by AI and machines. Price competition becomes inevitable—and in that game, individuals always lose. So the survival strategy is simple but strict:
- Minimize fixed costs by working solo
- Create added value through artistic meaning, not efficiency
That’s the only way to avoid being crushed by scale players and automation. So the “new craftsmanship” must have these characteristics:
- Values: Freedom-centered, solo-first, loose collaboration (not permanent guilds)
- Production: Like an artist, embedding lifestyle into objects
- Distribution: Understanding and using platform algorithms
- Attitude: Building meta-skills, not just technical skills
In this article, we will explore what it means to be attractive and what constitutes an attractive narrative. Platform distribution and phenomenological approach to artistry will be continued in subsequent articles.
2. The Solo Artisan — Why You No Longer Need a Permanent Community
Permanent craft communities made sense in the past. They worked when:
- Labor and rent were low, allowing for sufficient training of apprentices.
- Free trade was limited (trade in local community)
- An era when technology was not sufficiently modularized and had to rely on stochastic processes → Technical mastery alone could generate high value
Even if senior artisans abused apprentices, following tradition reduced trial-and-error costs. You endured it because it was the best efficient way to learn. But today’s conditions are the opposite:
- Fixed costs are high
- Platforms enable free and direct transactions
- Technology has been democratized by AI, the Internet, YouTube, etc., and the configuration process has been sufficiently modularized so that sufficient performance can be achieved simply by replacing parts → Technical skill alone no longer guarantees survival
This shift has led to an interesting phenomenon. Perfect mastery of technology itself has lost its charm; instead, the trials, errors, and the process itself have become the main attraction. While perfect performance can be enjoyed through mass-produced corporate products, such items are always predictable and serve only instrumental purposes, leaving no room for genuine emotion. Those who pursue experiences that money cannot buy and human charm have fallen in love with the ‘jazzy’ allure of the production process, rather than formal rigor.
Now, trial and error doesn’t disappear—it becomes content. Stories about apprenticeship, handwritten notes, messy failures—these are now perceived as authentic, and often sell for more. So what really needs to be developed today is not craft community approval, but:
- Individual attractiveness
- Clear concept and steady archive accumulation
Recognition from traditional craft communities matters far less than before. In many cases, it’s more efficient to go solo, and communicate directly with your audience.
Algorithms: Replacing the ‘Authority’ of Artisan Communities
One of the reasons the recognition of traditional artisan communities is no longer essential is that platform algorithms now replace that ‘endorsement’ by connecting producers directly with their audience. Let me introduce a representative case that illustrates this shift.
In Korea, a well-known example of this shift is Chef Kang Leo. A disciple of the legendary Michelin-starred chef Pierre Koffmann, he trained alongside industry giants like Gordon Ramsay and Marco Pierre White, eventually gaining high recognition in London’s fine-dining scene. However, upon returning to Korea, he took an unexpected path. He distanced himself from the domestic fine-dining community and the traditional artisan circles, adopting a critical stance toward Michelin stars, flamboyant performances, and the molecular gastronomy trend. This sparked a ‘disrespect controversy’ within the professional culinary world. Eventually, he left professional cooking altogether and shifted his focus toward agriculture. He began sharing home-cookable recipes and farming processes on YouTube, providing practical knowledge to small restaurant owners and everyday people.
Despite his prestigious background, he remained in relative obscurity for several years. Then, he experienced a spectacular revival after being ‘chosen’ by the YouTube algorithm. In Korea, the phenomenon where an algorithm pushes buried content back to the surface is called ‘Yeok-ju-haeng’ (climbing back up the charts). Kang Leo had once served as a judge for a cooking competition, and a ‘bromance’ dynamic he showcased with one of the contestants was eventually picked up by the algorithm. Thanks to this, the vast archive of content he had consistently built over the years resurfaced, creating a massive sensation.
This was an achievement that could not have been attained through the traditional path of craftsmanship—such as excelling as a Michelin chef and gaining institutional recognition within the industry. His case demonstrates that by establishing a clear concept and accumulating a consistent archive on media platforms, one can succeed even without the endorsement of traditional artisan communities.
The key is to sharpen one’s concept so that the algorithm can accurately recommend the content to those with matching tastes. After all, the algorithm’s ultimate role is to keep users engaged by showing them content they are most likely to love.
Some of you reading this might be staying in schools or organizations under the excuse of “learning,” while feeling like you’re being drained by meaningless tasks. At some point, it’s okay to leave. With today’s AI tools and platforms algorithms, working solo is not only possible—it’s often more rational. If you have Individual attractiveness & Clear concept and steady archive accumulation.
3. How Do We Create Added Value?
(1) Working Like an Artist
In Part 1, I argued that after settled societies emerged, whether in agriculture or manual labor, work was essentially a form of combat. True craftsmanship didn’t really exist in survival labor. But there is an exception. Craftsmanship did exist in artistic creation, especially after the Renaissance. Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, Beethoven—they suffered while working, but through creation they experienced meaning, and a sense of peace after pain. This was possible because there were patrons—aristocrats willing to pay for art.
In simple terms, it was “doing what you love and surviving.” In technical terms: they secured survival by immersing bodily action into the world through creative work. Since functional expertise is no longer rewarded the way it used to be, modern artisans must now work like Renaissance artists, regardless of profession.
👉 Chefs, creators, designers—it’s the same structure. Working artistically does not mean just refining technique or visual beauty. It means embedding your lifestyle, ideal world into the object.
I would like to define this as ‘Artistic Practicality.’ It is a practice that takes functionality as its foundation, while simultaneously collecting random debris of life and recombining them into meaningful structures that penetrate the lives of others.
Furthermore, it is advisable to consistently record the production process and the philosophy behind your products through platforms like blogs and YouTube. Those who are wandering in search of their own Da Vinci, Michelangelo, or Beethoven will eventually become your patrons.
Why Do People Like Objects That Feel Like a Lifestyle?
Because people want narratives about:
- how they are living
- and how they should live
The masses have lost their wildness and live confined within the comfortable fences of the welfare state. Physically, they may be at ease, but mentally, they suffer from persistent anxiety. This is because they no longer know what it feels like to directly control their own ‘lived world’ (Lebenswelt). As Marx pointed out, they are engaged in fragmented labor as part of a corporation or organization, working strictly according to manuals. Consequently, their lives are dictated by coincidence, luck, and randomness.
Therefore, they feel a sense of awe toward producers who confront the world head-on, engrave their lifestyle into objects, and attempt to carve out the world. The more this synchronicity aligns, the more it is experienced as something truly ‘authentic.’ Through these producers, the public perceives a sense of ‘agency’ they themselves lack, developing a desire to project that agency onto their own lives.
So people look at crafted objects and want to see the manifestation of a completed human lifestyle. They project that narrative onto themselves. This perception creates immeasurable added value. Objects without that narrative are judged purely by function. In other words, For these people, the product becomes a kind of ‘sacred relic.’ They feel as if they, too, have become agents who embody that very artistic practicality.
Take Van Gogh’s Starry Night. People feel awe toward the madness that challenged convention. That’s the birth of unique aura. If you are interested with Aura Theory, [See: Introducing the Aura Theory, Reinterpreted for the Hospitality Industry]
(2) Four Types of Human Appeal
Objects that carry lifestyle also carry human appeal. Now that AI and machines handle precision and repetition, strict classical perfection matters less. In fact, slightly rough, imperfect, even “B-grade” aesthetics often feel more human today. So we no longer need to obsess over preserving traditional technical principles.
What matters is this: the maker’s worldview and narrative must be embedded in the object, so the user experiences their own life differently through using it.
As Jean Baudrillard argued in The Consumer Society, people today don’t consume objects for use. They consume meaning, identity, and difference.
- Wearing Nike shoes and becoming Michael Jordan for an hour.
- Driving a Tesla and imagining yourself as a bold early adopter.
- Using the same book stand as your favorite writer because it feels right.
It’s all the same mechanism. Human appeal—lifestyle appeal—can be roughly divided into four types:
👉 Rebellious, Aristocratic, Exotic, and Immersive.
In real life, these usually appear in mixed forms. Why? Because most people’s identities are built around:
- system compliance
- normalcy
- national boundaries
- scattered attention
So people are attracted to what they lack—the opposite direction.
- Rebellious appeal: rejecting order, rules, convention (e.g., James Dean)
- Aristocratic appeal: elegance, distance, dignity, respect (e.g., Tilda Swinton)
- Exotic appeal: crossing borders, mixing identities
- Immersive appeal: total absorption into one world. It serves as the foundation for the above three charms. (e.g., Ernest Hemingway)
Modern artisans should always ask: Which one—or which two—of these appeals does my object express clearly?
Objects that do this don’t just get used. They change how people live.
(3) This Appeal Structure Also Applies to Big Tech: Apple
Apple started as a rebellious Macintosh brand, then evolved into Silicon Valley aristocracy, and finally settled into a minimalist + immersive identity. Many people say Apple is just “selling emotions.” But emotions are competitive advantage. One way to build that is through art. Steve Jobs famously said: “We’re not selling computers. We’re selling a way of life.”
Apple believed that using their products should change: how you write, how you draw, how you manage health, how you travel. So the object itself is designed with orientations like: immersion, privacy, non-intrusiveness. When people use Apple products, they naturally step into that worldview. To achieve this, Apple highlights only what fits its core values and hides everything else.
Because you must empty first before you can fill. What matters is the synchronization between lifestyle and object. And synchronization starts by removing, not adding. If you keep adding features, sync becomes impossible. Remove friction and distractions, and intention becomes intuitive.
There was a time when products sold by boasting, “This can do everything.” That time is over.
(4) This Also Applies to Small Businesses: A Chinese Restaurant
Can small businesses do what Apple does? I think they can. There’s a Chinese restaurant I love. They removed everything except the core: taste and regular customers. And paradoxically, that made them last the longest. This place has strong immersive appeal.
Menu? Just four items: Jajangmyeon, sweet-and-sour pork, jjamppong, fried rice. A few options, but the essence never changes. It stood in front of my elementary school bus stop. And it’s still there, unchanged. Almost no Google info. Only about 24 reviews. No delivery platforms. Orders by phone. They deliver themselves. No flashy sign. No coupons. No SNS. No promotions. Yet almost everyone who’s lived long in neighborhood knows this place.
Why? Because they have loyal regulars. They don’t need constant new customers. It’s the opposite of modern marketing logic. No trends. No hype. Just deep focus on Chinese food itself. That’s why this place strangely feels like Apple. No cheap marketing. No trend chasing. Just one style, done consistently. Maybe real strength in business isn’t about adding new things, but about staying immersed in your own immersive rhythm for a long time.
4. How Do You Show Human Appeal?
(1) Drop the Hero’s Plot. Show Everyday Hacks.
Now, let’s discuss how to unfold lifestyle and allure in a chronological manner. Modern artisans shouldn’t display stories of personal mental suffering. They should show how to use the world differently. In other words, artisan narratives should not be heroic growth stories. They should be instruction manuals for daily life. Old-style artisans placed themselves at the center as “the struggling hero,” and built stories using Robert McKee’s arc-plot structure. Modern artisans should instead show system hacks— and share how others can apply them too. Why did this change?
Why Arc-Plot Stories Are Losing Power
The core of McKee’s narrative theory is the gap between subjective expectation and objective reality. The protagonist desires something, acts, fails, adapts, and repeats. Reality never matches expectation, so new desires emerge. Through cycles of positive and negative outcomes, the story reaches climax where meaning is revealed. Not just victory—but perspective change. A classic example (not McKee’s own, but structurally perfect) is “Saving Private Ryan.”
Three brothers die in WWII. A squad is sent to save the last surviving brother, Ryan. Viewers watch beloved characters fall one by one. Hope and despair alternate. At the climax, Captain Miller dies and tells Ryan:
“Earn this. Earn it.”
Their deaths impose moral debt on Ryan: Live a worthy life. Serve society. The opening scene shows old Ryan at Miller’s grave, asking: “Did I live a good life?” Spielberg’s message is clear: Your peaceful life is built on others’ sacrifice. Are you worthy of it? Viewers feel reborn after watching.
Summary: Arc-plots assume that humans grow through lack and suffering.
McKee = Hollywood Edition of Lacan (French philosopher)
McKee’s structure is basically Lacan for Hollywood. Lacan assumed humans suffer permanent lack after separation from the maternal imaginary world. Reality is harsh and meaningless. Desire is constantly frustrated. So humans create symbolic systems—myth, law, duty, language— to protect mental stability. But today, people are as tired of Lacan as they are of McKee.
Why? Because both assume: Endure suffering, and you’ll become better. But that promise no longer holds. Institutions—states, laws, education, media— no longer deliver safety and reward in exchange for obedience.
After COVID, inflation, compulsory vaccination, and instability, many people feel betrayed by old systems. They were enormous hypocrisy. So people no longer want redemption arcs. They want:
- emotional resonance
- short-form immersion
- relatable rhythms
Not heroic struggles abroad under legendary masters. Instead, rebellious individuals living by their own rhythm feel attractive. What sells now is not growth through pain, but resonance through lifestyle. People pay when they feel: “That life syncs with mine. I want to have his aura.”
From Overcoming Lack → To Hacking Lack
Stories have shifted. From: I suffered, I grew, I succeeded. To: Here’s how I bend broken systems to live my way. Not heroic victory. Practical resonance.
🔁 Narrative Shift
| Category | Overcoming Lack Narrative (McKee-Style) | Hacking Lack Narrative (Modern) |
|---|---|---|
| Structure | Conflict → Reversal → Resolution. Event-driven storytelling | Consistent rhythm and immersion. Existential resonance |
| Protagonist | The overcoming humanHero filling a lack (dramatic, tragic) | The flow-riding humanPlayer exploiting system gaps (playful, ironic) |
| Emotional Arc | Tension → Release. Explosive climax | Stability → Empathy →Aftertaste. “Oh, that works too?” intellectual pleasure |
| Consumption Mode | Closed narrative, Long stories, deep interpretation | Open narrative, Short stories, instant sensory impact |
| Platform Examples | War films (Saving Private Ryan), Biopic dramas | Game strategy streams, Life-hack Shorts, DIY clips |
| Typical Figures | Technical masters, Knowledge authorities | Creators, space designers, lifestyle designers |
| Artisan’s Attitude | “Recognize my suffering.”(Struggle for validation) | “Here’s another way. Try it.”(Sharing strategies) |
Modern audiences no longer seek heroic suffering. They seek livable rhythms and usable hacks.
(2) Modern Craft Is About Rewriting Meaning and Shifting Perception
Regarding narrative forms, a noteworthy theme lately is ‘Life-hack tactics.’ This, too, is a format preferred by audiences who have grown weary of Robert McKee-style narratives centered on the grave overcoming of suffering. The public has lost the courage to leap into the wild, leaving the safety of the state’s fences. Instead, they struggle with how to reclaim a sense of ‘Agency’ over the world while still maintaining their daily lives. French philosopher Michel de Certeau once explored the philosophical background of this struggle; let’s examine it together.
Michel de Certeau, in The Practice of Everyday Life, describes how social systems—states, corporations, armies, cities, science, law—tell us: “In this space, you should read and behave like this.” But individuals constantly twist those instructions. They don’t own the space. They operate inside systems built by the powerful. They go to work, go to school, follow schedules. Yet they quietly reuse those systems in their own ways, avoiding surveillance and bending rules to fit their lives. De Certeau called this tactics. Tactics appear in everything:
- how we walk
- how we speak
- how we read
- how we work
They are small acts of resistance against utilities imposed by the powerful. De Certeau writes:
“A tactic must constantly manipulate events in order to turn them into opportunities. It must vigilantly make use of the cracks that particular conjunctions open in the surveillance of the proprietary powers. It poaches in them. It creates surprises in them. It is a clever trick… the practical equivalent of wit… and depends on the intersection of heterogeneous rhythms.”
Put simply: Most people are thrown into tightly controlled spaces. They don’t own them. Power always does. But between imposed order and personal life, small gaps appear. People grab those gaps and reuse systems for their own benefit— to save time, to have fun, to improve relationships. They collect scrap wood from factories and build chairs. They jaywalk and invent shortcuts. They laugh while seeing the world differently through these cracks.
Tactics are techniques for mocking the system.
Human Appeal Now Comes from Hacking Systems, Not Mastering Skills
Today, human appeal no longer comes from superior technical mastery. It comes from the ability to steal the language of systems and reassemble it to fit one’s own life. The more oppressive and massive systems become, the less attractive traditional order-following artisans appear.
De Certeau even noted:
“In the scale of contemporary history, tactics are increasingly breaking away…systems have become so vast and coercive that there is almost nowhere else to go.”
What people now want from artisans is not: “A life of enduring hardship inside order.” But: “A hack that makes my current life better.” Examples?
- Discovering farming or leveling strategies in RPG games that developers never taught.
- Interpreting central bank statements to reveal, “They basically admit they can’t stop currency devaluation.”
- Throwing pizza boxes on the ground to drain grease so pizza tastes better.
- Turning a normal pear juice drink into a hangover cure in the US by rebranding it as “IdH” through pronunciation tricks.
These are all perception-shifting techniques. Legal theft. Boundary blurring.
Comedy, Parody, and Tactical Pleasure
In Korea, a YouTuber known as Manager Lee became famous by reinterpreting corporate language.
When bosses say:
- “We’re like a family here.” → Translation: “We’ll exploit you like livestock.”
- “We offer autonomous work environments.” → Translation: “There’s no system. No mentor. Survive on your own.”
- “Understand customer needs.” → Translation: “Match my mood.”
He stole the language of the powerful and reassembled it into jokes for employees. This isn’t just parody. It delivers tactical pleasure— the feeling of winning inside the enemy’s space. People felt catharsis. They started sharing career worries with him. He wasn’t a founder. Not an executive. Not an HR expert. Just a regular mid-level worker. And that’s exactly why it worked.
Another Example: G-Dragon
Let’s look at Korean pop icon G-Dragon. He usually carries aristocratic appeal—fashion, distance, elite aura. But he never preserved that aura as perfection. Instead, he styled himself using $10 thrift clothes. High and low mixed deliberately. Recently, he faced drug accusations and media attacks. Instead of apologies, tears, or redemption arcs, he released the song “Power.” In the lyrics: “I don’t give a shit. Don gibu uck.”
When pronounced with a Korean accent, “Don’t give a f***” sounds like “Don-Gibu-Uk” (돈 기부 억). In Korean, this literally means “Donated 100 million won” (approx. $75,000). A phonetic punchline.
Meaning: Insult me all you want. I don’t care. I’ll just donate more. No apology narrative. No growth arc. Just a hack. What fans loved was not moral redemption, but: “Even in that situation, he can still play.” That shift in life interpretation is what resonated.
Summary
Modern artisans are not people who “make things professionally.” They are people who:
- embed human appeal into objects
- and show how to hack dominant systems through them
They sell not products, but alternative ways to read reality.
4. Conclusion: Balancing Craft and Survival
Meaning in life has both internal and external dimensions.
Internal Meaning
It comes from mastering bodily skills, from immersion, from the sense of control over one’s environment. Even Matthew Crawford, who defends technical craftsmanship, admitted that while building tables, he imagined becoming a father (future), and felt emotional attachment to marks left by past use. A useless table became meaningful. Not because of function, but because of narrative.
External Meaning
It comes when objects are sold. Selling means: someone’s life benefited and you can survive economically. In the past, technical mastery created value. Now, machines and AI flatten technical advantage. So value must come from human appeal and perception design. We now live in an age where artisans must work like artists. Before, appeal came from stories of suffering: how hard it was, how rare the materials were. Now people ask:
“So what does this have to do with my life?”
People no longer want to follow institutional hardship paths.
What Is a Modern Artisan?
Not someone who perfects technique. But someone who embeds personal rhythm and worldview into objects, and slightly bends other people’s daily lives. That is tactic. Craft value is no longer measured by precision, but by whether an object can make someone feel that their day is different. And what is different? Rebellious, Aristocratic, Exotic, and Immersive. Even just a little.
We don’t need better skills. We need better ways to live. Hero or hacker?
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