Cartoonist Paul Pope More Concerned About Killer Robots Than AI Plagiarism

Paul Pope is celebrated for his visually captivating comics of the twenty-first century, such as “Batman: Year 100,” where Batman confronts a dystopian surveillance state, and “Battling Boy,” featuring a young god battling colossal monsters.

However, it has been more than a decade since Pope embarked on a significant comic project. In a recent Zoom interview with TechCrunch, he revealed that this time has been laden with challenges, showcasing a substantial collection of unpublished artwork.

“Creating graphic novels is different from making comics,” Pope elaborated. “You’re essentially writing a novel that can take years, requiring a contract. The audience remains unaware of the work, which leads to considerable frustration.”

On a brighter note, a significant exhibition of Pope’s artwork has recently opened at the Philippe Labaune Gallery in New York. An expanded edition of his art book, titled “PulpHope2: The Art of Paul Pope,” is slated for release in the fall, along with the first volume of his self-published sci-fi series “THB.”

This initiative is part of what Pope refers to as “strategic moves” for “reintroducing” and, somewhat reluctantly, “rebranding” himself.

Pope’s comeback occurs amidst a turbulent environment for the comics industry and creativity in general, with publishers and writers facing off against AI companies as generative AI tools increasingly replicate well-known artists. He noted that it’s “entirely possible” for leading comic book artists to be supplanted by AI.

This scenario is particularly critical for Pope, who generally avoids digital tools in favor of traditional brushes and ink. Nonetheless, he recognizes the potential advantages of AI (“any effective tool is valuable”), which he utilizes for research purposes.

“I’m more concerned about potentially dangerous machines, drones, and surveillance than about an individual creating an image based on one of my drawings,” he remarked.

The following interview has been condensed for brevity and clarity.

Image Credits: Paul Pope/Archaia

You have a gallery exhibition coming up that coincides with your second art book, “PulpHope.” How did this collaboration come about?

In late 2023, Boom Studios expressed interest in collaborating through their specialized imprint Archaia. After discussions, I took on the role of art director, allowing me to engage my favorite designer, Steve Alexander, known as Rinzen. Together, we spent nearly nine months in 2024 developing the book.

Coincidentally, I had a connection with Philippe Labaune from prior gallery visits and mutual acquaintances. He proposed showcasing not just pieces from the book but also a retrospective of my career, evolving into a fantastic project.

Do you consider the evolution of your career and how it all connects, or is your focus predominantly future-oriented?

It’s a blend of both. I’ve said before that artists need to be their own curators. Jack Kirby famously remarked, “All that matters is the 10% of your best work; the rest guides you to that 10%.”

In my case, I’ve produced numerous variant covers and explored various projects outside of comics, like screen prints and fashion-related work that are hard to find. I thought presenting a chronological perspective on an artist’s journey—primarily focusing on comics while highlighting pieces that many may not have seen or easily accessed—would be fascinating.

This marks the start of several strategic maneuvers I’ve been planning for a considerable time. The gallery exhibition is pivotal to this strategy, and I have another project announcement coming later this summer.

The creation of graphic novels differs from comics; it resembles writing a novel that spans years and requires a contract. The audience remains uninformed about the work, leading to notable frustration. This collection showcases my current unpublished work. I viewed this exhibition as an excellent opportunity to either reintroduce my work or — a term I’m not fond of — rebrand myself.

In your essay “Weapons of Choice,” you discuss the various tools you utilize, including brushes and pens, as well as Sumi ink. Has your working style primarily remained analog throughout your career?

For the most part, yes. I began using Photoshop for coloring and texturing relatively late — around 2003.

In 2010, I developed carpal tunnel syndrome, prompting me to minimize my digital usage as much as possible, though I still use Photoshop daily. Generally, my work is founded in traditional comics with ink on paper.

Image Credits: Paul Pope/Archaia

Do you consider ink on paper to be objectively superior, or is it merely your preferred method of working?

I wouldn’t label it as superior, honestly. I believe any effective tool has its value. For instance, Moebius once mentioned he occasionally drew with coffee grounds or even a fork.

I have many friends in the mainstream comics industry who have switched to digital methods and recognize their benefits. Personally, I’m not as drawn to that approach. However, I do sell original artwork, and while one could print a digital document, it pales in comparison to owning a genuine drawing — it’s just binary code.

Additionally, I feel a connection to artists like Alex Toth and Steve Ditko, who generously shared their wisdom with me. I was also friends with Moebius and Frank Miller. I aim to serve as a torchbearer for traditional analog art.

What are your thoughts on the increasing digitalization of comic creation?

I think it’s inevitable. The cat is already out of the bag. Now it’s about providing artists with a fresh, vibrant set of tools to choose from.

When mentoring younger artists, do you see a pathway for them to engage in analog work?

Absolutely. The challenge today is that obtaining an app or an iPad Pro to begin drawing is quite straightforward. While the learning curve may be quicker—thanks to the ability to rectify mistakes—drawing can feel endless. One appealing aspect of analog art is its inherent challenges. A mentor once told me that the first 1,000 ink drawings are likely to be subpar, and you just have to keep at it. That was a humbling experience. Much of the skill lies in the feel of the tools in your hand, learning from mistakes, and gradually acquiring the ability to render your vision.

Before we started recording, we briefly discussed AI, and it seems you’ve been pondering its implications.

Absolutely, I use it frequently. I don’t utilize it creatively, only for research. Recently, I wrote an essay about my favorite cartoonist, Attilio Micheluzzi, whose work is being published by Fantagraphics. I penned the introduction for the second book, and it’s fascinating because many personal details about him were challenging to uncover. AI aids in illuminating such inquiries.

I also employ it for assistance with story structure. I view AI more as a consultant. My nephew, who specializes in coding, described AI as a sociopathic personal assistant that can be deceitful. At times, I ask AI, “What books has Paul Pope published?” Interestingly, about 80% of the response tends to be accurate, but 20% includes titles I’ve never authored. This aligns with my nephew’s perspective on AI.

You express skepticism, yet you acknowledge its potential utility.

Exactly, I see it as just another tool.

This is a contentious topic among cartoonists, raising critical questions regarding authorship and copyright protection. I recently dined with Frank Miller, and we discussed it. If I prompt AI to generate “Lady Godiva, naked on a horse, as illustrated by Frank Miller,” it can produce that in moments. Some might assert, “Oh, this is my artwork,” yet AI lacks the context of identity, personal history, or emotional depth that humans possess.

Its function is constrained to recombining data programmed into its database. This issue extends to my work as well — it never fully captures my style, though it is improving rapidly.

However, as a futurist, I see immediate concerns around hazardous robots, surveillance, and rapidly evolving technologies, often developed without sufficient public discourse regarding their implications.

Recently, I visited an intriguing gallery in New York called Poster House, which emphasizes 20th-century poster design history, resonating with me. I went with my girlfriend last week, and they are currently showcasing an exhibition on the depiction of atomic bombs in poster art. One campaign, “Atoms for Peace,” promoted atomic energy while opposing warfare, paralleling my sentiments about AI. I’d rather it be termed “AI for peace.”

My primary fears focus on the threats posed by dangerous robots, surveillance, and drones, as these are vastly more pressing issues. We’re approaching a critical tipping point, and many irresponsible players are developing AI technologies without considering future consequences, often driven by profit.

Image Credits: Paul Pope/Archaia

You mentioned the notion of someone typing, “Create a drawing in the style of Paul Pope.” Some argue this should be prohibited, or at the very minimum, you should receive compensation since your art may have contributed to training the model and is linked to your name.

That’s a critical question. I actually asked AI before our discussion today to “compare unlicensed art usage for AI-generated imagery to the torrenting of MP3s in the ’90s.”

AI responded by noting similarities in using existing work without compensating the creator. However, AI can also create new elements, distinguishing it from the illegal distribution of an album like Guns N’ Roses’ “Chinese Democracy.” It varies from using AI to emulate an artist’s style for a new song.

If someone were to publish a comic closely resembling my work, that would raise concerns. A class action lawsuit has already been initiated on behalf of some artists, emphasizing that this legal matter will inevitably be addressed. Nevertheless, regulating AI development in countries like Afghanistan, Iran, or China will pose challenges as they may not comply with U.S. laws.

Reflecting on the concept of “killer robots,” you’ve produced and illustrated significant dystopian works, such as “Batman: Year 100.” How close do you believe that future is?

Honestly, I think we might only be two years away. Robots are currently utilized in combat zones, and drones are employed in warfare. It wouldn’t surprise me if, within that timeframe, regular robot automation becomes commonplace. In fact, there’s a fully robotic coffee shop in Brooklyn with no human staff.

The concerning aspect is that people adapt too rapidly to these advancements, allowing technology to gain acceptance before society critically examines its merits.

For example, my lawyer posits that in two to three years, Marvel Comics could replace artists with AI, eliminating salary requirements altogether. I find that entirely plausible. AI could seamlessly take over storyboarding for films and render animatics obsolete. Eventually, comic book artists could face redundancy. In theory, almost any profession might be at risk.

How do you feel about this? Are you concerned about your own profession?

I don’t fear for my career because I have faith in human creativity. I see myself as an optimist. The fundamental advantage we possess over machines is that until they achieve full autonomy, awareness, and emotional responses—qualities crucial for artistry or humanity—they cannot replicate our unique traits.

They can only imitate what humans create. If aspiring artists try to break into comics by mimicking Jim Lee’s style, they might struggle because AI has absorbed every image Jim Lee has produced. However, what remains challenging to replicate is the human innovation at the heart of transformative art movements, whether it’s Miles Davis in jazz or Picasso’s collaborations with Juan Gris that led to Cubism. I don’t envision machines reaching that level of artistry.

You highlighted the discipline required for mastering brush techniques, and I worry that by downplaying the value of time and effort needed to excel, we might lose sight of the connection between creativity, as demonstrated by someone like Paul Pope, and the countless hours devoted to perfecting one’s craft using brushes and ink. Solely focusing on innovative concepts may not yield fruitful outcomes.

I contemplate this frequently. It must be incredibly challenging for someone at 18 or 19 today, having grown up with screens available, where apps allow nearly instantaneous creative expression. This sharply contrasts with the broader span of human history.

We may not have reached full “singularity” yet, but we’re getting closer. This concern resonates with me, whether reflecting on dangerous machines or the fear of machine consciousness overshadowing human creativity. Abandoning our ethical values, curiosity, and resilience—principles some may view as outdated—seems almost like a retreat from society, but I believe they are vital in preserving our humanity and essence.

This fall marks the release of the first major compilation of your “THB” comics, which seems integral to your rebranding efforts or relaunch strategy; a substantial step forward. Should we anticipate that “Battling Boy 2” is also on the horizon?

Yes, indeed. Interestingly, it was initially planned that “Battling Boy 2” would be released before “THB.” However, due to some restructuring at the parent company of my publisher, Macmillan, and the appointment of a new art director in 2023, the release order was reversed. “THB” is ready, and the relief is immense because “Battling Boy” comprises over 500 pages. I worked on it intermittently, pausing for commercial projects only to return later. It felt like driving a high-performance vehicle with insufficient fuel, constantly needing to refuel. Therefore, the upcoming release is invigorating for my entire workflow.