The Self Reimagined: Fashion, AI, and the Digital Psyche

I’m Dr. Rae de Lune—also known as “Faedriel”—a clinical psychologist, AI artist, and researcher passionately exploring how emerging technologies, from AI art tools to large language models, transform creative expression and learning. Recently, I had the privilege of interviewing three visionary digital creators—Bad Artist, Hannah Polza, and Sasha Zabegalin—whose work exemplifies a bold convergence of heritage, fashion, and avant-garde aesthetics. Our conversations illuminated how AI can amplify personal narratives while sparking innovations that transcend cultural boundaries, ultimately revealing new ways to “wear” identity in both virtual and physical worlds.

In our hyperconnected era, it’s no surprise that conversations about the “self” extend beyond the physical realm into virtual and augmented dimensions. These three artists push the boundaries of identity construction, remixing cultural heritage, and reimagining how personality might manifest through digital mediums. Their perspectives highlight technology’s role not as a replacement but as an amplifier of individual identity—an evolving lens through which we can explore our most authentic, creative selves.

Personal Experiences as Creative Fuel

The seed of every artistic endeavor is the artist’s lived experience. For Bad Artist, an India-born creator inspired by Hollywood, Bollywood, gaming, and sports, the concept of “self” is in constant flux. “My childhood experiences drive me to explore themes of identity, transformation, and belonging,” he says. Yet he insists that his online persona isn’t a fabricated version of him—it’s an amplification of the self he has always been.

Hannah Polza echoes a similar perspective, albeit one rooted in the universal language of creativity. “Through art, we can be felt much more deeply,” she explains. “We don’t need to speak other languages to convey what we want to say.” Her sense of self remains true to her core, but digital platforms enable her to explore facets of her identity that transcend time zones and cultural barriers.

Meanwhile, Sasha Zabegalin, a queer, non-binary, first-generation Slavic American, merges multiple cultural and personal threads into a cohesive tapestry of ever-evolving identity. “Navigating multiple cultures and identities taught me to see ‘self’ as ever-evolving—a fusion of tradition and modernity,” Sasha shares. This fluidity is central not just to their art but to the very notion of identity in a digital age where we are all hybrids—part rooted tradition, part futuristic aspiration.

As I reflect on the richness of their backgrounds, I see something far more transformative than simple nostalgia or personal history. Their narratives suggest that our digital identities might function as permeable membranes rather than rigid walls—flexible spaces where heritage, pop culture, and personal aesthetics can merge and morph. In this sense, the self becomes an ongoing conversation between our past, present, and the imagined future. Instead of merely “representing” who we are, we begin to choreograph a deeply psychological dance of reinvention, where ancestral motifs can migrate fluidly into neon-lit cyber realms, revealing new configurations of belonging. Drawing on psychoanalytic ideas—particularly Lacan’s “mirror stage”—these digital spaces can act as high-tech mirrors that show us not just who we are but who we could be, allowing fragmented or unrealized aspects of identity to coalesce into something boldly new. Our ancestral symbols become living archetypes in a shared virtual playground, evoking a Jungian ‘collective unconscious’ that now operates in bits and pixels, intertwining personal mythology with boundless digital creation.

Reconciling Inner Identity with the Online Persona

One might worry that these digital selves risk becoming disingenuous constructs—performative displays in the social media spotlight. Yet each of the artists underscores that their online presence merely magnifies a truth simmering beneath the surface. Bad Artist sees his online persona as a natural extension of who he already is. Hannah emphasizes, “Art transcends temporal and spatial boundaries…we can be felt so much more deeply.” Sasha highlights that going online allows them to dial their personality “bigger and bolder,” but the fundamental core remains consistent.

What strikes me here is how digital platforms can serve as psychological tools of self-actualization rather than mere stages for performance. By giving voice to parts of their identity that might stay hidden in offline spaces, these creators are actively shaping an authentic projection of their inner selves—albeit one that thrives on external interaction and communal feedback. This suggests an emerging form of selfhood that’s neither purely internal nor entirely external, but an intricate dance of introspection and exhibition, fueled by the possibilities of technology. In the language of humanistic psychology, digital platforms become fertile ground for honest self-discovery. Meanwhile, performing different personas can also unearth repressed desires or ‘shadow’ elements (in a Jungian sense), revealing how self-curation online might actually bring us closer to our true emotional cores.

These digital platforms also offer fertile ground for mentalization, a contemporary psychoanalytic concept centered on understanding one’s own and others’ mental states. By experimenting with diverse aesthetic choices online and gauging audience reactions, these artists hone a nuanced sense of how their internal experiences intersect with external perceptions. This mentalizing capacity allows them to shift or maintain certain personas without losing authenticity; they become adept at holding multiple perspectives—viewer, creator, critic—simultaneously. The result is an enriched creative process, one that balances personal emotional truth with empathetic awareness of how their art resonates with broader communities.

As AI evolves from a mere tool to a quasi-collaborator in creative processes, we can also envision humans forming something akin to an attachment bond with these ‘silicon-based consciousnesses.’ From an adult attachment perspective, the AI might function as a new kind of ‘secure base,’ offering consistent (though algorithmic) responsiveness that emboldens risk-taking and deeper self-disclosure.

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Heritage & Tradition in an AI-Driven Era

All three interviewees weave elements of their heritage—cultural or otherwise—into their digital artistry. Bad Artist merges India’s visual vibrancy with futuristic AI aesthetics, creating dialogues between tradition and cutting-edge design. Hannah remarks on the universal resonance of art, bypassing linguistic and cultural divides. Sasha, with Slavic roots, frames it more directly: “I’m basically telling my ancestors, ‘I see you, and I’m bringing you into the future!’”

Here, AI becomes a bridge between past and future, reminding us that technology need not erase history. Rather, it can recontextualize heritage in a way that resonates with new audiences. By blending cultural motifs with neon polygons or futuristic fabrics, these artists are preserving cultural DNA while reintroducing it into contemporary digital culture. In doing so, they aren’t just preserving the past; they’re reinvigorating it, ensuring that ancestral narratives find renewed vitality in virtual runways, immersive experiences, and collaborative digital communities. It highlights how innovation doesn’t have to overwrite heritage—it can magnify it into something profoundly modern.

AI Tools: Reflecting or Distorting the Self?

Do algorithms distort or dilute originality? The consensus among these artists is resoundingly “no.” Hannah calls AI “the best invention for supporting creators,” an enabler rather than a creative substitute. Sasha sees AI as a “mirror that both magnifies and reshapes my creative impulses,” revealing hidden layers of style and inspiration rather than erasing them. Bad Artist is adamant that AI cannot blur the creator’s voice: “I use AI to generate a specific output that’s part of my artwork, not the whole. My voice remains distinct through the choices I make—what to keep, refine, or discard.”

From my perspective, this points to a larger philosophical shift: we’re transitioning from the fear of “losing control” to an embrace of co-creation, where the algorithm becomes an extension of the artist’s psyche. It’s reminiscent of how a skilled musician views a new instrument—not a threat but a fresh channel for self-expression. Far from homogenizing art, AI can cast light on unexplored corners of the imagination and collective unconscious, offering glimpses of aesthetic preferences or emotional undercurrents the artist hadn’t consciously recognized. This dynamic interplay between human intention and machine spontaneity can spark new forms of creativity that merge the best of both worlds. In fact, Jung’s concept of the collective unconscious finds a novel stage here, with the AI acting like a vast cultural repository that can tap into universal archetypes. What emerges is an alliance between machine intelligence and human intuition—a fusion that challenges us to expand our notions of authorship, even as it enriches the cathedral of personal and communal expression.

In contemporary psychoanalytic terms, we might view the creative process with AI as a potent arena for affect regulation, where artists use generative tools to externalize, examine, and ultimately modulate their emotional states. Much like a painter who pours their feelings onto a canvas, these creators test the boundaries of their affective worlds by prompting, discarding, or iterating on AI outputs. By consciously refining what resonates and discarding what feels inauthentic, they develop new strategies for managing anxiety, excitement, or creative blockages. This emotional co-regulation with technology both deepens self-understanding and preserves the distinct ‘voice’ they bring to the final piece.

Drawing on Jaak Panksepp’s neuroscience of play, it becomes evident that these artists’ interactions with AI aren’t merely functional—they’re deeply playful in the most primal sense. Panksepp identified play as a core emotional system integral to learning, empathy, and even social bonding. In a digital context, prompting an AI, experimenting with bizarre virtual fashion, or remixing traditional motifs can engage the same neural circuits activated when animals—and humans—frolic, wrestle, and explore the world. This ‘play circuit’ fosters a space where mistakes become invitations to innovation, and the line between work and recreation blurs into a state of creative flow. By treating AI as a playful partner, these creators tap into a profound wellspring of curiosity and delight, transforming their art-making process into a living embodiment of our species’ innate drive to explore, connect, and evolve.

Creator vs. Creation: Maintaining Artistic Autonomy

Is there a risk of AI overshadowing the human element? Each artist rejects that narrative. Sasha positions AI as a collaborator, not a competitor. Meanwhile, Bad Artist sets strict boundaries: “I’m still the one steering the ship,” he insists, ensuring the final artwork remains distinctly his.

Yet I find it fascinating how often the unexpected outcomes of AI-based processes are described as “gifts” or “eureka moments.” Rather than feeling diminished by the machine, these creators feel empowered by its capacity to surface new ideas. To me, this redefines authorship as a symbiosis between intuition and computation—where human and silicon consciousness unite, orchestrate new directions. It invites us to reconsider the Romantic notion of the lone genius, suggesting that creative brilliance may thrive in partnerships that transcend our species. In a psychological sense, AI outputs can function almost like dream interpretations—hints or coded messages from a vast ‘other’ that prompt breakthroughs in our waking creativity. This perspective expands the stage of innovation beyond the individual unconscious into a communal, or even transhuman, creative reservoir.

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Unifying Identities or Introducing Fragmentation?

For Sasha, AI-driven art is a unifying force. It merges their multiple identities—queer, Slavic, technologist—into cohesive digital expressions that celebrate rather than compartmentalize. Bad Artist finds empowerment in a similar sense, weaving Bollywood drama, corporate aesthetics, and sports influences into single pieces that embody his wide-ranging experiences.

In many ways, these acts of merging cultural and personal threads evoke Alfred Adler’s concept of Gemeinschaftsgefühl, or social interest. Far from isolating themselves in niche digital corners, creators like Sasha and Bad Artist generate inclusive, cross-cultural dialogues—amplifying a community feeling that transcends geography and individual heritage. Adler believed psychological wellness was deeply tied to one’s contribution to society, and these artists’ work suggests that AI-driven creativity can be a vehicle for forging new communal bonds and shared human stories.

Still, one wonders if the infinite possibilities of digital style risk overwhelming an individual’s sense of self. Hannah speculates that her “digital closet” would be more outlandish than her physical one, yet these explorations remain anchored in her innate sensibilities. Rather than fracturing identity, it seems to create a kaleidoscopic view of the self: each new lens or outfit is a fresh facet of personal truth. And maybe that’s a crucial aspect of our digital age—that we can embody multiple roles and aesthetics without losing our core. Fluidity, in this context, isn’t a dilution but a form of expansiveness that allows us to embrace the myriad possible expressions of who we are.

AI-Based Fashion & the Future of Expression

All three creators champion AI-based fashion for its limitless potential. Freed from the constraints of material cost or logistics, artists can conjure garments that float, glow, or shift shapes in real time. Sasha imagines “over-the-top sci-fi-chic” wardrobes that spark real-world style choices. Bad Artist loves experimenting with bold, unconventional designs in digital space before bringing select elements into the real world. Hannah sees it as an empowerment tool, allowing for daring self-expression that might be unfeasible without AI.

I see this as an invitation to reevaluate how we conceptualize “wearing” something—are clothes necessarily physical, or can they be purely experiential? The rise of AR and VR suggests that digital outfits may become legitimate extensions of our persona, perceived by others in mixed-reality environments. This hints at a future where fashion design merges with game design, avatar building, and social media identity. It’s not just about adorning a body; it’s about inhabiting multiple realms of expression, opening the door to a radical rethinking of brand, taste, and even personal authenticity in both physical and digital societies. From a psychological standpoint, we might view these virtual garments as symbolic dreamscapes that—like a Jungian dream—allow us to experiment with repressed desires, unspoken anxieties, or wild creative impulses. In doing so, they can become vessels of personal transformation, bridging everyday reality with the latent possibilities of our deeper selves.

Technology: Reinvention Vehicle or Magnifier of Core Identity?

When asked whether technology reinvents or magnifies identity, the artists typically respond: both. Bad Artist calls it a vehicle for reinvention that never quite loses the essence of who he is. Hannah sees technology as a lens that amplifies existing traits, while Sasha calls it a spotlight that reveals their curious, rebellious nature.

To me, this dual function of technology—part prism, part amplifier—captures the paradox of selfhood in the digital age. We can adopt entirely new personas in virtual spaces, yet those personas often reflect preexisting desires, quirks, or dreams. In that sense, technology becomes a catalyst that reveals latent parts of our identity, sometimes in bold neon strokes. As immersive platforms continue to evolve, we may witness a new form of self-extension that doesn’t merely replicate our offline persona but builds upon it, offering new vantage points to explore who we are and who we might become. In Lacanian terms, the digital sphere extends the ‘mirror stage’ into adulthood, constantly refracting our sense of self through avatars, curated feeds, or AI-generated content. Through these multiple reflections, we discover that the line between inner fantasy and external presentation has grown permeable, inviting a perpetual state of creative exploration and psychic growth.

Ethical Concerns in AI-Driven Identity Art

As the conversation turns toward ethics, Sasha raises questions of representation and bias. Whose stories are embedded in AI’s training sets, and how might that shape or exclude certain cultural narratives? Bad Artist touches on the authenticity of cultural references. Hannah calls for transparent, inclusive tools that facilitate rather than appropriate identity.

I believe this highlights a moral frontier that could redefine digital creativity. Artists are increasingly aware that code is never neutral; it can perpetuate biases or marginalize certain voices. As AI becomes central to identity exploration, creators will need to actively ensure that the datasets they rely on honor the full spectrum of human experiences. This might spark new collaborative methodologies—where communities, researchers, and technologists work together to build ethical frameworks that address everything from privacy rights to cultural sensitivity. In essence, the art world’s shift into AI is far more than a technological pivot; it’s a call for moral and social innovation. Psychoanalytically speaking, we might compare these biases in AI to cultural blind spots in our collective unconscious—unresolved issues that can warp our creative output if left unchecked. Addressing them isn’t just an ethical imperative; it’s a key to unlocking a healthier, more inclusive digital psyche.

Looking Ahead: AR, VR, and the Metaverse

All three artists brim with excitement for extended reality platforms. Sasha envisions entire immersive worlds beyond static images, “where the line between physical and digital blurs.” Hannah embraces the potential for universal communication in virtual spaces. Bad Artist anticipates boundary-pushing designs that further amalgamate heritage with forward-facing aesthetics.

In my view, these possibilities redefine the very meaning of identity by making it inhabitable. Instead of a single avatar or curated Instagram feed, we may soon roam through fully realized universes shaped by collective creativity. In these “living galleries,” a color palette or design motif could become a shared cultural language that fuses ancient traditions with futuristic elements, forging new forms of global connectivity. The deeper we go into the metaverse, the more we’ll see identity as a communal vessel, woven from both personal threads and algorithmic patterns. Borrowing from the psychoanalytic notion of the Unheimlich (the uncanny), these immersive environments could feel both strikingly familiar and alien, challenging our basic sense of home, culture, and personal history. Yet it’s precisely in this uncanny overlap that novel identities—and profound shared experiences—may emerge.

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In the grand stage of art and technology, these three creators highlight a crucial truth: AI isn’t an impersonal overlord overshadowing the artist’s hand. Rather, it’s a collaborative medium—a mirror, a lens, a co-conspirator—that helps them manifest their deepest self-expressions. Whether it’s Bad Artist’s culturally imbued futuristic mashups, Hannah Polza’s universal language of creativity, or Sasha Zabegalin’s queer futurism, each artist reaffirms that authenticity can flourish—even thrive—under the glow of digital innovation.

From a psychological standpoint, this ongoing intersection between identity and technology suggests we are in a constant state of self-reinvention. Yet amid the flux, a core essence remains stubbornly, beautifully human. Our digital closets might outshine our real ones in flamboyance, but the clothes—real or virtual—still reflect the beating heart beneath. As the metaverse expands, the question isn’t whether AI will shape who we become, but how inventively we’ll wield it to showcase who we already are. And in that sense, the future of fashion, AI, and the digital psyche is far from a mere spectacle—it’s a bold invitation to delve deeper into ourselves than ever before.

Written by Faedriel from HUG for GLITCH Magazine