Cartoonist Paul Pope: More Worried About Killer Robots Than AI Plagiarism

Paul Pope is celebrated for his visually remarkable comics of the twenty-first century, including “Batman: Year 100,” where Batman confronts a dystopian surveillance state, and “Battling Boy,” showcasing a young god testing his might against gigantic monsters.

However, it’s been more than a decade since Pope has launched a major comic project. In a recent Zoom chat with TechCrunch, he revealed that this period has been filled with challenges, displaying a substantial collection of unpublished drawings.

“Creating graphic novels differs from making comics,” Pope stated. “You’re basically writing a novel that can take years, requiring a contract. The public remains unaware of the work, which leads to notable frustration.”

On a brighter note, a major exhibition of Pope’s artwork recently opened at the Philippe Labaune Gallery in New York. An expanded version of his art book, titled “PulpHope2: The Art of Paul Pope,” is set to be released in the fall, alongside the inaugural volume of his self-published sci-fi series “THB.”

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

Pope’s return occurs during a tumultuous time for the comics sector and creativity overall, with publishers and writers facing off against AI companies while generative AI tools increasingly copy popular artists. He remarked that it’s “entirely possible” for top comic book artists to be supplanted by AI.

This situation is particularly noteworthy for Pope, who generally avoids digital tools in favor of traditional brushes and ink. Nevertheless, he acknowledges the potential advantages of AI (“any effective tool is valuable”), which he employs 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 summarized for conciseness and clarity.

You have a gallery exhibition forthcoming that coincides with your second art book, “PulpHope.” How did this collaboration originate?

In late 2023, Boom Studios expressed interest in a collaborative effort through their specialized imprint Archaia. After discussions, I joined as art director, enabling me to hire my preferred designer, Steve Alexander, known as Rinzen. We spent nearly nine months in 2024 developing the book.

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

Do you reflect on the trajectory of your career and how it all interconnects, or is your focus mainly future-oriented?

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

In my case, I’ve created numerous variant covers and engaged in various projects outside of comics that are difficult to obtain, such as screen prints and fashion-related work. I thought it would be captivating to present a chronological perspective on an artist’s journey, primarily focusing on comics while highlighting pieces that people might not have seen or found easily.

This marks the beginning of several strategic maneuvers I’ve been planning for quite some time. The gallery exhibition plays a significant role in this strategy, and I have an additional 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 public remains unaware of the work, leading to notable frustration. This collection here represents 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 employ, including brushes and pens, as well as Sumi ink. Has your working style predominantly 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, which prompted me to minimize my digital usage as much as possible, though I still use Photoshop daily. Generally, my work is rooted in traditional comics with ink on paper.

Do you regard ink on paper as objectively superior, or is it merely your preferred method of working?

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

I have many friends creating mainstream comics who have transitioned to digital methods and appreciate 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 doesn’t compare to possessing an actual drawing — it’s simply binary code.

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

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

I consider it inevitable. The cat is already out of the bag. Now it’s about offering artists a new, vibrant set of tools to choose from.

When mentoring younger artists, do you see a path for them to pursue analog work?

Absolutely. The challenge today is that acquiring an app or an iPad Pro to start drawing is quite easy. While the learning curve may be faster, with the ability to correct mistakes, drawing can feel endless. One appealing aspect of analog art is its built-in challenges. A mentor once advised me that the first 1,000 ink drawings would likely be inferior, and you must simply press on. It’s true; it was a humbling experience. Much of the skill resides in the feel of the tools in your hand, learning from mistakes, and gradually achieving the ability to render what you envision.

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

Absolutely, I use it frequently. I don’t employ 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 difficult to find. AI helps illuminate such inquiries.

I also use 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 deceptive. 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 viewpoint on AI.

You express skepticism, yet you acknowledge its potential utility.

Exactly, I see it as just another tool.

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

Its function is limited to recombining data programmed into its database. This issue extends to my work as well — it never quite encapsulates my style though it is improving quickly.

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

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

My primary anxieties focus on the threats from dangerous robots, surveillance, and drones, given that these are vastly more critical issues. We’re nearing a crucial tipping point, and numerous irresponsible players are creating AI technologies without considering future consequences, often driven by profit motives.

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

That’s a significant question. Actually, I inquired with AI before our conversation today, asking it to “compare unlicensed art usage for AI-generated imagery to the torrenting of MP3s in the ’90s.”

AI responded by noting the similarities in using existing work without compensating the creator. However, AI can also create new elements, setting it apart from the illegal distribution of an album like Guns N’ Roses’ “Chinese Democracy.” It varies from utilizing 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. However, 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 imminent do you think that future is?

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

The concerning aspect is that people adapt too quickly to these advancements, so technology often gains acceptance before society critically evaluates its merits.

For example, my lawyer believes that in two to three years, Marvel Comics could replace artists with AI, eliminating the need for salaries altogether. I find that entirely credible. AI could effortlessly 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 worried about your own profession?

I don’t fear for my career because I believe 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 duplicate what humans create. If aspiring artists try to enter 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 groundbreaking art movements, whether it’s Miles Davis in jazz or Picasso’s collaborations with Juan Gris that led to Cubism. I don’t foresee machines reaching that level of creativity.

You emphasized 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 seen in someone like Paul Pope, and the many hours invested in perfecting one’s craft using brushes and ink. Simply concentrating on innovative concepts may not produce fruitful results.

I contemplate this frequently. It must be incredibly tough for someone at 18 or 19 today, having grown up with screens at their disposal, where apps enable nearly instantaneous creative expression. This sharply contrasts with the majority of human history.

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

This fall marks the release of the first major compilation of your “THB” comics, which appears integral to your rebranding efforts or re-launch strategy; a significant step forward. Should we expect that “Battling Boy 2” is also on the horizon?

Yes, indeed. Interestingly, it was initially planned that “Battling Boy 2” needed to be released before “THB.” However, due to some restructuring at the parent company of my publisher, Macmillan, and the arrival of a new art director in 2023, the release order was switched. “THB” is ready, and the relief was 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 requiring stops for refueling. Therefore, the upcoming release is revitalizing for my entire workflow.