The other day my daughter asked me what I do for a living.
And I went blank. Because honestly, what I do now doesn't have a name. I'm not a designer, though I design every day. I'm not a video editor, though I make professional videos. I'm not a musician, and yet I've composed things that sound good. I'm not a programmer, and yet I build entire apps. I'm not a filmmaker, I'm not a CEO, I'm not an engineer...
So what am I?
I said: "I make things, sweetheart." And she looked at me like: okay, but what things, Dad? And my little boy, being a troublemaker as usual, jumped in: "Like, how?"
Good question. Now what do I even say to that. xD
I've been creating things with AI every day for months. Videos, apps, systems, campaigns, landing pages, presentations, music, stories. I can now build my company a CRM. I can now 3D-print custom toys for my kids.
Today, for example, I finished a video for a brand in forty minutes. And I don't mean some random content clip — I'm talking about a video with motion graphics, transitions, a real story, music, color. The kind of piece that not long ago, at the multinational ad agencies where I used to work, would've taken my team and me three weeks, a specialized After Effects vendor charging in dollars, and at least two client meetings asking for a truckload of changes, as if there were some magic button that could make those edits happen in seconds.
But wait — we do have that magic button now.
That's why I could do it in forty minutes. Alone. In my room. On a Tuesday, singing The Real Slim Shady and drinking cold coffee.
Everyone's talking about vibe coding. The term Andrej Karpathy dropped in a tweet in February 2025 that ended up being Collins Dictionary's Word of the Year. The idea that anyone can build software without writing a single line of code. You describe what you want to the AI and it writes the code for you. Simple. Powerful. Real.
But what few people have stopped to think about is that the same thing is happening everywhere. Not just in code.
With Suno and Udio, someone with a feel for music can compose professional-sounding songs in minutes. That's vibe composing. With Midjourney and Flux, without knowing how to draw, you can produce gallery-level visual art. That's vibe designing. With Runway and Kling AI, one person produces video that looks like it came out of a studio with thirty employees. That's vibe filmmaking. Salesforce and Klaviyo already talk about vibe marketing. OpenAI published a paper on vibe researching. Leo Huan raised fifteen million dollars to do vibe selling. And even Y Combinator says 25% of their last batch were startups built by vibe founders.
But... aren't they all the same thing?
You describe what you want, AI executes it. You bring the vision. The tool brings the hands. You define. It generates. We both create.
I call it vibe creating.
I don't know. I just started calling it that without overthinking it, because I just needed a word to answer my kids, my parents, my world. "What do you do?" "I create things with AI." "Oh, like vibe coding?" "No, it's not code. It's... everything else."
Vibe creating.
And when I told my kids, when I said "I'm a vibe creator" ("woooow, and what's that, Daaaad?"), something clicked in my head. It made sense. For the first time in months, what I do had a name. And not just a name. An identity.
A vibe creator is not a programmer, not a designer, not a musician, not a filmmaker. But they can do the work of all of them — not necessarily better, but with a massive advantage. They're a director. Someone who has the complete vision in their head and uses AI as their production crew. AI is the orchestra. The vibe creator is the conductor.
And here's what nobody's saying: when everyone has access to the same tools, when technique has been completely democratized, all that's left is taste, judgment, experience, instinct, the human touch. Knowing what story to tell. What emotion to provoke. Why that cut goes on beat 2 and not beat 4.
There are entire feeds full of "stunning" images that say nothing. "Cinematic" videos with no story. "Epic" music with no soul. Lots of pretty noise.
Technique got democratized. Taste didn't.
I've spent over a decade creating for some of the biggest companies in the world. I've founded 5 wildly different companies chasing my dream in the most unexpected places (4 failed, 1 made it). And I have this blind certainty that the world will belong to those who dare to create it. So today I'm working on figuring out how AI can amplify creators instead of replacing them. One vibe creator and a laptop. An army of one. And I'm documenting everything along the way: the tools, the processes, the mistakes, the discoveries. Like a real-time diary.
Because the way I see it, this needs a framework. Not another Midjourney tutorial.
A year ago I couldn't imagine what I'm doing today. And today, what I'll be doing a year from now, I still can't imagine.
If the same thing is happening to you — welcome, vibe creator.
— IMAJIM