In the era of infinite AI generation, we are constantly told that "taste" is our life raft. As we discussed previously, your job might be replaceable, but your taste is not.
But this advice usually comes with a massive, frustrating blind spot. We talk about taste as if it is a genetic blessing, something you are either born with, or you aren't. We assume that if you just consume enough high-quality art, read enough brilliant essays, and buy enough well-designed furniture, you will magically absorb "good taste."
That is not how it works. Consumption only gives you preferences. To actually develop taste, you have to get your hands dirty in creating.
How do you develop good taste?
To develop good taste you need to do creative work. You must be prolific and produce a some volume of imperfect output, whether it's writing, art, or experiments at work. Taste is not an innate trait; it is a critical lens developed by repeatedly making attempts, experiencing the friction of failure, and actively closing the gap between your ambition and your execution.
If you want to survive the AI sludge, you can't just be a curator of other people's finished products. You have to become a prolific creator of your own. Here is why volume is the only path to taste:
- The agony of the gap: When you first start making things, your work will likely disappoint you. This is actually a fantastic sign—it means your taste is already better than your current ability. But sitting around analyzing why it's bad won't fix it. The only way to close the gap between what you want to make and what you can make is to aggressively churn out work.
- Taste requires rriction: You cannot develop a genuine creative compass just by scrolling through a frictionless Pinterest board. True taste is forged in the trenches of execution. You have to feel the physical and mental frustration of a sentence not landing, or a design feeling clunky, to understand why the greats make the choices they do.
- Volume defeats preciousness: When you only create one thing a month, you treat it like a fragile, precious artifact. You become terrified of breaking it, which immediately suffocates the idea. When you commit to being prolific—making something every single day—you lower the stakes. You give yourself permission to make ugly experiments.
- The AI blind spot: An AI can spit out a perfectly competent image or article in seconds. But an AI has no taste because it has no capacity for disappointment. It does not iterate through frustration. Your humanity—and your ultimate value—is found in the sheer, determined effort of making 100 terrible things just to figure out how to make one brilliant thing.
Stop trying to refine your palate by passively eating what others have cooked. Get in the kitchen, burn the toast, and figure out how to do it better tomorrow.