Behind the Brush: How I Use AI as a Creative Partner, Not a Replacement

Art has always been a deeply personal journey for me. It's how I express my passions, my daydreams, and the epic, equine adventures that live rent-free in my imagination. Over the years, my process has evolved—from graphite and paint to digital tablets and styluses, and now, a powerful new tool has entered my studio: artificial intelligence.

Let’s be clear right from the start: AI doesn’t make my art. I do. But I’ve started treating AI the way I would treat any helpful tool in my creative toolbox. Just as Photoshop changed the game for digital artists, AI can boost creativity and workflow efficiency in ways that still leave plenty of room for human imagination, skill, and good old-fashioned hard work.

And yet, occasionally, someone scrolls past a post, pauses long enough to type, “Nice AI art, huh?”—and keeps moving. That comment, tossed out casually, feels like a dismissal. So let’s talk about it.

What You See is More Than What You Think

Let me walk you through what goes into my art—especially the pieces I use in products like my notebooks, shirts, and prints.

When I start a new concept, it doesn’t begin with a prompt or a button. It begins with a story, a mood, a visual in my head. I might be inspired by my horses—like Obsidian, Oso, Loui, Ripley, or Cervantes—or by a day out on the trail, an experience or a conversation with my friends. I take that idea and break it down: what elements do I need? A Pegasus mid-flight? A magical shield encrusted in lavender crystals? A cowgirl standing in front of a gothic Victorian mansion? These visuals aren’t pulled from thin air; they’re built with layers of storytelling, reference imagery, emotion, and worldbuilding.

That’s when AI comes into play.

Learning How to Use AI is a Skill in Itself

People often assume AI-generated imagery is effortless—just type something in and boom, instant masterpiece. But creating usable, high-quality, accurate elements through AI is an art form of its own. It takes hours of experimentation, practice, and deep knowledge of both the AI model and your end goals to get anything useful.

Learning how to write prompts effectively is a skill that took me months to refine. It’s not just about telling AI what I want; it’s about knowing how to word it, how to structure descriptions, how to stack parameters, and how to feed in visual inspiration so that the output aligns with my vision.

A single element in one of my final works may be the result of dozens of prompt variations and renderings. I tweak lighting, positioning, details, and stylization to get a piece that I can then extract, enhance, and incorporate into my digital canvas. Just like using stock photography, the image is a piece of the puzzle—not the final picture.

And if the result isn’t quite right? I go back. I revise. I regenerate. Again and again.

This iterative dance—between prompt writing, testing, rejecting, revising, and fine-tuning—is not passive work. It’s mental labor. It’s storytelling. It’s digital craftsmanship.

From Pixels to Paint

Once I get the puzzle pieces I need, the real art begins.

I bring those pieces into Photoshop—my digital painting studio. Each rendered piece becomes a layer in a complex composition. I clean up edges, re-paint shadows, adjust color balances, paint details like hair, buttons, ribbons, scars, flowers, clouds and grasses; and I use my own brushes and textures to harmonize the elements. Sometimes I use overlays. Sometimes I literally paint over sections by hand. Every detail is adjusted to make it look like it was always meant to be there.

This isn’t just sticking stickers on a canvas. It’s visual compositing at a professional level.

Why AI is Like Stock Photography—But Better

Before AI, artists like me often turned to stock photography to source elements. Need a mountain range background? Hours of searching stock photo sites. Need a woman standing in moonlight wearing chainmail? Even more hours. And once you found the right image, you still had to blend, adjust, and paint it into the piece.

AI shortens that process. I can say, “Give me a magical crystal crown with lavender and gunmetal accents,” and test until I get a version that fits. Instead of compromising on what I can find, I can now create what I envision—and then do the same Photoshop work I’ve always done to turn that raw source into finished art.

Why This Matters

What I’m doing isn’t mass-producing images from prompts. I’m using AI to speed up sourcing and drafting, while still applying all the artistic decisions and craftsmanship myself.

It’s the same way photographers use Lightroom, how designers use Illustrator, or how architects use AutoCAD. Tools are not the enemy of creativity—they’re the enablers.

And I’d argue that embracing these tools is how we keep growing as artists. It’s how we stay agile, evolve our voice, and expand the possibilities of what our art can become.

Collaboration is Still the Heart of My Work

Take Oso’s Romanze, for example—one of my most cherished collaborations.

My friend Rob, from Fangorn Ranch, rides with me almost every Saturday. He’s a fellow creative, a leatherworker and armor artisan who crafted a real-life version of armor I originally illustrated in a painting of Oso as a winged guardian stallion. My husband now rides Oso most of the time, so I got to step into this fantasy version of myself—riding through the trees in full armor, part of a living story.

We got rained out at first—buckets of it. But we waited, watched the clouds shift, and were blessed with a sun break just long enough to take photos. Photos my husband took. Armor made by my friend. Inspired by artwork I dreamed up and rendered, painted, and brought to life.

That’s not AI art. That’s community art. That’s collaboration. That’s storytelling through shared effort.

Let’s Be Real About Time

Let’s be real — I’m just one person.

And like many creatives trying to juggle passion and reality, time has always been my most limited resource. Between running a ranch, caring for five horses, four dogs, cats, and bunnies, raising a child, being a wife, working full-time from home and trying to grow a business — it’s a lot. And for the longest time, it meant my creative output had to take a backseat.

But AI changed that.

Since incorporating AI into my process, my production time has dropped while my creativity has soared. Have you noticed how much more art I’m able to share? How many more designs, paintings, and product drops are happening now? That’s not magic — that’s smart workflow. AI gives me a leg up by accelerating the early stages of building a concept, letting me focus more of my energy on the painting, the polish, and the soul.

For an artist–entrepreneur like me, it’s been a game-changer. Not because it replaces me — but because it frees me to do more of what I love.

So... Is It AI Art?

Sure, in some ways. But it’s also mostly Nadine art. It’s “Nadine & Ripley” art. It’s hand-tuned, brush-finished, heart-driven art.

You’re not buying a machine-made image. You’re buying a piece of a story I lived, one I built layer by layer with every tool I have at my disposal—from horses and armor to Photoshop and digital brushes, to late nights painting, editing, and believing in the magic of my ideas.

And if that’s not real art, I don’t know what is.

What You’re Buying From Me

When you support Nadine & Ripley, you’re not buying some mass-generated AI wallpaper.

You’re buying:

• Hours of ideation and prompt refinement

• Days of compositing, painting, and polishing

• Years of artistic training in anatomy, color theory, and lighting

• Stories born from trail rides, horse snuggles, and midnight dreams

• Original artwork that no machine could ever replicate in full

Because my art is deeply personal. It's shaped by the bond I share with my horses — Oso’s steady heart, Obsidian’s fire, Ripley’s sass, Cervantes' promise, Loui’s soul. It’s the rhythm of hooves beside me on the trail, the quiet breath of my horses when they lean into me, the laughter and struggle that come with sharing life with these magnificent animals.

No AI can replicate that.

No machine can ride beside me at sunrise, or know what it feels like to share trust with a 1,200-pound creature. These are real experiences. And when I create, I draw from them. From the way Oso pauses before a creek crossing. From the glint in Obsidian’s eye when he learns something new. From the joy and grit of living this lifestyle.

That’s the soul in my art — and that can’t be automated.

Because it’s not just made with heart.
It’s made from it.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you. And if you ever doubted whether art made with AI can still be personal, emotional, and original—I hope this helped change your mind.

✨ Let’s create boldly. Let’s dream vividly. Let’s paint without limits.

— Nadine