Published: July 2026

In 2026, the global creative scene is facing a new psychological epidemic: Generophobia.

It’s a collective paranoia where any hint of AI involvement instantly stamps a piece of art as "inferior". The bias has grown so intense that even pure, unadulterated human craftsmanship is regularly caught in the crossfire.

But where do the valid reasons to hate AI end, and where does blind panic begin?

For our latest feature, we sat down with multidisciplinary visual artist Femur to dissect the visual cult of modern rave culture and discuss his stunning, dream-born music video for Nastia’s “Elephant Dreamin”.

Inside the interview:

• Why the modern audience secretly wants to see artists struggle and suffer just to appreciate their work.
• Why Femur refuses to let algorithms replace the tangible crafts he loves (drawing, sculpting, tinkering).
• Why showing the brutal, unfiltered BTS process is the only way to survive the AI slop allegations in 2026.

photo: @inessnd

Block 1. Music videos in 2026, and the genesis of "Elephant Dreamin"

1. Why bother making music videos at all? In 2026, the long-form music video is often dismissed as a dying genre—an expensive monument to an artist's ego. Why did you choose to create a full-scale video for Nastia? Has not it become pure art-snobbery?

Hey, first of all, thanks for the opportunity to share a bit more about this project. It was a real pleasure to work with Nastia and I'm really happy with the result. I worked with visual artist JAD on the composition and editing, so thanks to him as well.

It's true, the music video is an unusual discipline. It's rarely, if ever, profitable, even for the biggest artists in the world, and the work and craft put into it are systematically undervalued relative to the budget. As a visual artist,

the real stakes of making a video for a musician lie in the creative freedom and the experimental playground it offers.

That's why I happily took Nastia's call: from the very first meeting I understood I'd be able to bring a personal vision and develop a creative system that would be enriching for me.

As for whether the music video has become an ego thing or artistic snobbery, there are several factors. First, techno is a scene with very particular codes, and you can't compare it to old-school rap, pop or rock. There's little to no lyrics, the tracks are often long and very repetitive, there's less to hold onto, fewer stars to film singing. When you think techno, you rarely think music video. And yet it's also a medium that leaves a lot of room for freedom, but it's a "sub-genre" with little to no budget or big productions. More broadly, the music video is going through a crisis across every genre because of the mainstreaming and capitalization of music. A lot of labels see the video as a communication tool, but social media now offers far more ways to get your music talked about than a music video does.

Because it's expensive, it gets relegated to the background in favor of visualizers, or reserved for wealthy or established artists, which is what gives it that "snob" aura today.

1. Loneliness on an ice planet: Nastia describes the elephant’s journey as a parable about instinct, a strange pull toward home, and a path that can only be walked alone. How did you translate these deeply intimate, emotional themes into visual language? Why are the visuals dominated by cold, ice, and endless snowfields—how does this environment resonate with the mood of the track?