Stop Pressing Buttons: How AI Made Me a Better Designer

When the Royal Shakespeare Company first switched on an AI-assisted lighting console, the board op swore he could feel the ghost of a thousand lighting designers glaring over his shoulder. But what happened next surprised everyone.

The Fear in the Booth

Let's level with you: the anxiety is real. Scroll through any lighting design forum—ControlBooth, Reddit's r/lightingdesign—and you'll find it simmering. "AI is coming for our jobs," one post declares. Another laments that automation will deskill the craft, turning nuanced artistry into plug-and-play templates. According to a 2024 PLASA survey, 68% of lighting professionals already use some form of automation in their workflow, yet only 12% have touched AI features. Skepticism runs deep, and for good reason.

Here's the thing: the fear isn't monolithic. Veteran designers, like Rick Fisher, speak of an intuition honed over decades—something they believe no algorithm can replicate. Meanwhile, younger designers, often working with tighter budgets and smaller crews, see AI as a lifeline. "I'm not afraid of a tool that lets me do more with less," one told me at USITT 2025. This divide isn't just generational; it's about what we think lighting design should be. Is it manual mastery or visionary storytelling? The RSC decided to find out.

The RSC Experiment: A Leap of Faith

Under pressure from shrinking budgets and relentless production schedules, the RSC lighting team took a bold step. They decided to integrate AI features from ETC Eos v3.2 and MA Lighting's grandMA3 into their next major production. I'll be honest: this wasn't a leisurely trial. Deadlines loomed, and the team needed results.

The AI was tasked with two specific jobs: fixture grouping via Eos's new Magic Sheets AI, which uses machine learning to suggest optimal groupings based on past show data, and palette generation from mood boards using grandMA3's AutoPalette feature. The goal was straightforward—cut down the hours spent on repetitive setup. But the reaction? Not so straightforward. The board operator pushed back hard. "I don't want a machine deciding my patch," he said. The designer worried about losing the accidental discoveries that come from manual fumbling. Artistic compromise felt like a click away.

From Button-Pusher to Light Director

But something shifted once the experiment began. As the AI took over the tedious bits—grouping fixtures, generating base color palettes, even pre-visualizing scenes from reference images—the designer found himself free. Free from what he called the "button-pusher" grind. Instead of spending hours manually plotting, he spent more time with the director, refining the emotional arc of each scene.

I think that's the key. He described it as conducting an orchestra. The AI became the first chair, not the conductor. It handled the mechanics, but the vision—the why behind every lighting choice—remained entirely human. The role evolved from operator to light director, a subtle but profound shift. One moment stands out: during a crucial blackout transition, the AI suggested a fading pattern the designer never would have considered. He tweaked it, shaped it, and it became the show's most talked-about effect.

The Surprising Results: Less Time, More Art

The numbers backed it up. Fixture grouping time was slashed by up to 40%, shaving days off the plotting process. But what about the art? Audience surveys showed no drop in emotional resonance. In fact, focus groups praised the lighting's coherence with the story. One audience member said, "It felt like the lights were breathing with the actors." That's not a machine effect; that's a designer using a new tool.

The designer himself reported higher creative satisfaction. He had space for experimentation—what he called "happy accidents"—because the AI freed up mental bandwidth. Instead of dreading the tech week slog, he looked forward to it. This isn't to say there weren't hiccups. The AI once grouped fixtures in a way that looked great on screen but failed miserably under the physical constraints of the set. But that failure was fixed in minutes, not hours.

The Bigger Picture: Assistive AI, Not Autonomous AI

Let's zoom out. What happened at the RSC isn't an isolated miracle; it's part of a deliberate industry trend. ETC and MA Lighting both emphasize "smart assistant" approaches—suggestions, not replacements. An ETC engineer told me at LDI: "We're building a tool that says, 'Here's an idea,' not 'Here's your show.'"

That distinction matters. AI lacks understanding of live dynamics, artistic intent, and the countless unpredictable variables of a performance. No machine can guarantee deterministic reliability mid-show. When a performer misses a mark or an audience reacts unexpectedly, the board op's instinct is irreplaceable. Yet, concerns persist. If every designer uses the same AI palette suggestions, won't all shows start to look the same? The risk of homogenization is real. But think of AutoPalette as a sketch, not a masterpiece. It gives you a starting point; your taste does the curation.

The New Designer: Visionary, Not Operator

Here's where it gets personal. This technology isn't just changing workflows; it's redefining the profession. The designer's job is no longer to execute perfectly but to curate brilliantly. You become the arbiter of AI's output, steering it toward your narrative vision. The RSC experiment proves that when used intentionally, AI amplifies artistry—it doesn't diminish it.

But there's a flip side. If we adopt these tools without thought, deskilling is a real threat. The craft of manual programming, of knowing your fixtures intimately, could fade. New skills are emerging: prompt engineering for generative tools, interpreting machine learning suggestions, and knowing exactly when to say, "No, I'll do this one myself." I've spoken to union reps from IATSE who are already drafting language to protect jobs. The conversation is happening whether we join it or not.

Your Next Move: Embracing the Assistant

So, what do you do tomorrow? Start small. Pick one cue, one scene, and let the AI suggest a grouping or a palette. Compare it to your own work. I'll bet you find it either reinforces your choice or reveals a blind spot. Then, treat the AI like an apprentice: give it clear direction, and know that the final call is yours.

Engage with your union, your peers, the online forums shaping the ethical framework around these tools. Don't wait for someone else to set the rules. The vision must come from you. The AI is handing you a brush; it's your canvas, your story.

So, the next time you boot up your console, ask yourself: Are you just pressing buttons, or are you directing light? The AI is waiting to hand you the brush.

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