It’s fascinating how 3D printing still hasn’t fully established itself in the minds of many people, particularly within the art world. On one end, critics dismiss it as “not art,” reducing it to mere technology. On the other, tech enthusiasts and makers elevate anything produced by a 3D printer to a pedestal, as though the medium alone is enough to validate the work. Navigating these polarized perspectives has been an eye-opening experience. It’s even led me to label my work explicitly as “3D printed art” on platforms like LinkedIn for a while—though honestly, I’m not sure why I needed to.
Because, really: So what?
Let’s be clear: a 3D printer is just a tool, no different than a brush or a chisel. No one insists that a painting should be revered because it was made with brushes, or a sculpture because it was chiseled from marble. Medium and technique are parameters, not the essence of art. What truly matters is the artist’s vision—the excitation that lingers in the mind and resonates over time.
Art isn’t defined by the tools used to create it but by its ability to provoke thought, inspire emotion, or spark curiosity. Whether a sonata is played on a Steinway or a Yamaha matters little to its impact. The same applies here: 3D printing neither diminishes nor enhances a work—it’s merely part of the process.
A common misconception about 3D printing is that the machine does all the work, as though the artist merely presses a button and waits for the result. Nothing could be further from the truth. The artist’s role remains as vital as ever, from conceptualization to intricate design and finishing touches. The machine is an extension of the artist’s vision, no more autonomous than a paintbrush or a camera.
This interplay between human creativity and technological tools came into sharp focus with a piece I created last year. The 3D printed parts themselves were simple: plain flat blocks that formed a black rectangle with a protruding shape at the center. To add texture, I used an iron to alter the surface, giving it a stony, weathered appearance.
If I had attempted to create that texture directly in the 3D model using CAD software, it would have been a daunting task—not impossible, but incredibly time-consuming and labor-intensive. Ironically, many people might perceive more value in the hand-altered version, crafted with an iron in just a couple of hours, than in the meticulously detailed CAD version, which, despite requiring far more time and skill to design, is ultimately printed by a machine.
From my perspective, designing the texture in CAD would have been far more challenging and creatively fulfilling. But perceptions differ. People often associate physical, manual labor with artistic authenticity, even when the conceptual and technical aspects demand far greater skill and ingenuity.
Whether created by hand or machine, the value of art lies not in how it’s made but in the thought and creativity behind it. 3D printing doesn’t invalidate art, just as it doesn’t inherently elevate it. It’s merely another medium—one with incredible potential when wielded thoughtfully.
Art is, and always will be, about ideas. The tools are secondary.
