For individuals who are unable to make the journey to the Tokyo National Museum to view Iwasa Matabei's renowned 17th-century gold leaf masterpiece, "Rakuchu Rakugai Zu Byobu," there is an alternative. This December, the Gagosian gallery in London is exhibiting a grand-scale replica of the artwork. However, upon closer inspection, it becomes apparent that this is not a mere replication.

In his first solo show in the UK for over a decade and a half, Takashi Murakami, a leading Japanese post-war artist, has reinterpreted Iwasa's expansive piece, which was originally painted on a six-panel folding screen around 1615. Like its predecessor, it meticulously captures the essence of life in Edo-era Kyoto, from the vibrant Misuji-machi red-light district to a cherry blossom parade traversing the Gojo Ohashi Bridge. Yet, Murakami has introduced several significant alterations. His iconic floral figures, presented in a spectrum of colors, stand out against the historical backdrop, while minuscule anime creatures are interspersed throughout—gesturing at onlookers from the banks of the Kamo River or roaring from atop a traditional Japanese longhouse. Iwasa's gold leaf technique has also been reimagined: in this 21st-century rendition, each light-reflecting cloud is embellished with even more of Murakami's signature floral motifs.

Despite these notable modifications, the piece remains an almost flawless reproduction of a painting recognized as a "National Treasure" by the Japanese government—partially crafted with the aid of artificial intelligence. "The original painting was incredibly ancient," Murakami shared at the exhibition's opening. "There was substantial damage and areas where the paint was missing. Approximately 80% was intact, but for the remaining 20%, I enlisted AI to complete the drawing and coloration." A dialogue unfolded between the AI and the artist as the program progressively honed in on accurately filling the gaps. "We engaged in numerous iterations until I was satisfied with the AI's suggestions," Murakami recounted of the process, which took approximately 10 months from sketching the outline to detailing the intricacies. "The result resembled a patchwork—a collage of AI-generated images."

AI tools have sparked controversy across various sectors, with ongoing debates about whether they pose a threat to human creativity and artistic vocations. In October, over 11,000 artists, including painters Amoako Boafo and Joanna Pousette-Dart, signed an open letter urging AI companies to cease utilizing their creations to train their algorithms.

"The unauthorized use of creative works to train generative AI represents a significant, unjust threat to the livelihoods of the creators of those works," the statement asserted. Murakami, who has previously delved into augmented reality and released his own NFT collection in 2023, holds a different view. "I am 62 years old," he remarked. "When I was in my late twenties (before personal computers became ubiquitous), being a designer entailed crafting hand-made designs." "Traditional designers despised (digital drawings), arguing that they were not genuine design or creativity because they were computer-assisted," he continued. "But who holds that belief today? Perhaps in another 10 or 20 years, there will be no resistance to AI."

Iwasa is not the sole artist Murakami has chosen to revive using the most advanced tools of the digital age. Throughout the exhibition, classic Edo-period artworks by Ogata Kenzan, printmaker Utagawa Kuniyoshi, and painters Tawaraya Sotatsu and Kano Eitoku have also been restored in a similar fashion—some more radically reenvisioned than others. In a reinterpretation of Sotatsu's 17th-century ink screen work "Wind God and Thunder God," the ominous deities are reimagined in a contemporary anime style (although the mesmerizing, menacing presence of Sotatsu's original is somewhat diminished by Murakami, whose gods appear more akin to cartoon figures).

Yet, despite his embrace of emerging technology, Murakami—whose factory-style studio, Kaikai Kiki, functions like a large-scale production line manned by teams of artistic assistants who aid in the creation of his work—hired an additional 30 people to work on his Iwasa replica (which he titled "Rakuchuu-Rakugai-zu Byobu: Iwasa Matabei RIP"). As many of his peers struggle—or refuse—to adapt to AI, Murakami's extensive network of collaborators helps him keep pace with evolving perspectives on technology. "Some of my younger assistants have never held a pencil or a pen," he noted. "Whenever they work, it's with a mouse or a tablet or similar devices," he added. "It might be premature, but in seven or ten years, people could be employing AI to create quick drawings." "For me, it's quite intriguing. But this is humanity; it's evolution."