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.
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 Modern Society
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 —they suffered while working, but through creation they experienced meaning, and a sense of peace after pain. They were individuals who possessed the absolute pinnacle of technique of their time.
However, the difference between ‘artistry’ in modern society and that of the Renaissance—which focused on classical aesthetics or humanity as an extension of the divine—is that contemporary audiences seek to perceive a “lifestyle” or “human appeal” within a work. 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. (Regarding the “meta-ability”—the capacity required to attain Artistic Practicality—it will be discussed in Part 4.)
Why has this trend emerged? The modern public no longer takes existential risks in life, nor do they engage in physical production. Instead, they are passive agents who consume and labor under the protection of the welfare state. Consequently, they have lost the connoisseurship required to discern why a specific object holds meaning in their lives; they no longer know what it feels like to directly control their own ‘lived world’. Instead, because the masses understand objects through the lens of the “creator” who made them or the “model” who represents them, they only perceive “authenticity” when human charm is present. In contrast, those actively engaged in production can decipher history, expertise, and originality directly from the object itself when they encounter it; thus, they care little about who created it.
Hip-hop music is a prime example. When a new album is released, the public asks, “Who gave a shout-out?”, “Who is the rapper?”, or “What is the rating?” They remain confined to a surface-level discourse of “good or bad,” failing to extract subjective meaning directly from the sound or the rap itself. Conversely, listeners with connoisseurship listen first to the lyrics, rap techniques, and beats. Independent of the rapper’s identity, they formulate subjective, autonomous opinions, stating, “In my view, this aspect is excellent for such-and-such reasons.” (For further elaboration on this topic, please refer to the Theory of Aura Branding).
Therefore, The masses 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.
(2) Four Types of Human Appeal
Objects that carry lifestyle 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 contemporary society, in particular, these four facets of charm show a strong tendency to manifest as a “hack” against state authority, social systems, or mere inertia. Because the spaces and rules dominated by the state and corporations are so tightly constricted, leaving no breathing room, modern individuals live their lives adapting to the system, never straying beyond its boundaries, and conforming to the prevailing trends. So what people seek today is not grand immortality or moral salvation, but rather the wit and survival strategies needed to navigate the immediate present—the reasons for which will be explored in the following paragraph.
- Rebellious appeal: Surviving appropriating and subverting the rules of the system from within, while exposing its contradictions.
- Aristocratic appeal: Expressing a distinct, differentiated individuality in resistance to the downward equalization and pressure for conformity in democracy by maintaining a dignified, unhurried distance from trends.
- Exotic appeal: Transcending national boundaries or repurposing existing objects to present an entirely alternative perspective.
- Immersive appeal: Adhering to one’s own rhythm of life, rather than conforming to platform policies or mainstream public trends. (like a legendary local diner thriving via focusing on ‘good taste and presence’, bypassing delivery or Instagram marketing).
(Of course, in reality, these four facets of charm often manifest in a blended form, with immersive appeal serving as the foundational bedrock for the other three.)
Let’s take my blog as an example. The charm I want to convey to my readers is this.
- Aristocratic: To distance myself from populist advice, superficial analysis, and AI-generated summaries, I strive to read and cite classic books.
- Immersive: Based on my experience as a chef and pub owner, I only write about actual experiences. Subjective truth.
- Rebellious: Critically attacking established scholars, economy, politics based on real experience
Modern artisans should ask: Which one—or which two—of these appeals does my object express clearly?
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. A notable phenomenon recently is the shift away from heroic struggles set in unrealistic times and places; instead, contemporary narratives focus on individuals who appeal to their audience within the fabric of relatable, daily life by subtly twisting existing structures and systems. 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. Arc-plots assume that humans grow through lack and suffering. 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.
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/aristocratic/exotic individuals living by their own rhythm feel attractive. Once you have defined the charm you wish to project, the key is to unfold it into a narrative that can be ‘homologously’ replicated in real life. 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
| Category | McKee-Style | Modern style |
|---|---|---|
| Pursued Values | Moral Redemption and Institutional Recognition | Existential Agency and Everyday Tactics |
| 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 |
Modern audiences no longer seek heroic suffering. They seek livable rhythms and usable hacks.
(2) Modern Craft Is About Rewriting Meaning and Shifting Perception
Life-hack tactic is a format preferred by audiences who have grown weary of Robert McKee-style narratives centered on the grave overcoming of suffering. 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.”
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. It delivers rebellious, 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. For instance, GD demonstrated that he could project a definitive “style” even with ten-dollar garments, delivering the message that simply wrapping oneself in luxury brands is not the ultimate goal. This was a flawless, everyday tactic that seamlessly fused the exotic (transcending boundaries) with the rebellious (mockery). Also this fosters a feeling among fans that they, too, can emulate GD.
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). This literally means “Donated 100 million won” (approx. $75,000). A phonetic punchline.
This implies a defiant stance: “Insult me all you want; I simply do not care. I will just donate more.” There is no conventional narrative of apology here, nor any predictable arc of personal growth—it is, quite simply, a hack. What deeply resonated with fans was not a story of moral redemption, but rather the sheer resilience of a creator: “Even in that situation, he can still play.”
Ultimately, it was this shift in how one interprets life that truly captivated the audience. From this perspective, modern artisans are not merely individuals who produce things professionally. Rather, they are creators who masterfully embed human appeal into tangible objects, demonstrating how to actively hack the dominant systems around them through their work. In the end, they are offering an alternative lens through which to read and experience reality.
5. Conclusion: Balancing Craft and Survival
Meaning in life has both internal and external dimensions.
(1) 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.
(2) 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.
(3) 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.
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