November 2025: The Linus cover, dedicated to Evangelion's thirtieth anniversary, arrives on newsstands, designed by Gianluca Bernardini. It frames a long-awaited tribute, a celebration that runs throughout the magazine, a fitting tribute to one of the most influential anime in history.
Something isn't quite right, though, and controversy erupts on social media: "The characters are poorly made, and even AI-powered!" writes one enraged reader. Others agree. The Linus cover, they say, seems generated rather than thought out. More than anything, it's a visual pastiche that lacks the cultural reverence Hideaki Anno's work deserves.
The point? Bernardini actually uses AI in his work, he openly declares it. And he's certainly not alone. According to the Symbola Foundation, 80% of Italian designers do too: this technology, my friends, is now part of the creative process. So why did this cover fail? Perhaps because it's not a matter of accepting or rejecting AI, but of understanding when to use it. And above all: when not to.
Linus's cover of Evangelion: the case that divides creatives
First of all, let me write: thank you Alessandro Verna for bringing all this commotion to my attention. Not only because it deserves attention, but because it reminded me of my right and duty to express myself on such a central theme for the Near Future: the relationship between technology and culture, between automation and respect for human work.
La cover of the November issue of Linus dedicated to Neon Genesis Evangelion, as mentioned, is signed by Gianluca Bernardini, illustrator and professor at the Academy of Fine Arts. A solid professional, savvy enough to state unambiguously on his website that he also produces "AI-assisted propaganda illustrations." There's no deception. There's transparency. Bernardini belongs to the majority of Italian creatives who have legitimately integrated artificial intelligence into their workflow.
Secondo Design Economy 2025, the study curated by the Symbola Foundation in collaboration with Deloitte, 80% of Italian design professionals use artificial intelligence toolsAmong companies, the percentage rises to 88,9%. The declared advantages: reduced project development times (72,2%), minimization of errors (42,5%), support during the creative phase (38,2%).
Yet, when Linus's cover was released, the reaction was anything but enthusiastic. The social media comments expressed frustration and disappointment. It was as if the image failed to capture the layered complexity of Evangelion, that interweaving of religious symbolism, psychology, and social commentary that made Hideaki Anno's work a generational benchmark.
When technology becomes a shortcut
The problem isn't AI itself. Artificial intelligence in the year 2025, if you follow The Near Future, you know, is like a hammer: useful for hammering nails, disastrous if used to play the piano. Generative AI excels at producing variations, speeding up iterations, suggesting creative directions. But when it comes to culturally dense works like Evangelion, something else is needed. Critical dialogue with the original is needed. Understanding the symbolic layers is needed. In a word, compliance.
As the designers interviewed by noted nssmagazine During Milan Design Week 2025, "AI-generated art fundamentally lacks substance: it's banal." Design seeks to communicate emotion. Without that natural component, AI only generates a simulacrum.
Linus's blanket likely fell into this trap. Not out of bad faith, and certainly not out of technical incompetence, but due to a use of AI that prioritized efficiency over cultural sensitivity.
The question is not to accept or reject
There's a lazy narrative dividing the world between tech enthusiasts and nostalgic Luddites. Those who criticize the use of AI are branded retrograde. Those who defend it, on the other hand, are accused of wanting to destroy creative work. Both positions are false.
They're false, yes. Because the truth in these cases is always a subtle thing. AI is a powerful tool that is redefining creative processes. But like any tool, it has appropriate areas of use and contexts where it becomes counterproductive. Italian creatives unite in the European Guild for AI Regulation, for example, aren't calling for a curb on innovation. They're calling for rules that protect copyright and ensure transparency. They're calling for a "training right" to regulate the exploitation of works in datasets.
The central question is this: When does AI become a tool for creative exploration and when does it become a shortcut that bypasses critical thinking? In the first case, it enriches. In the second, it impoverishes.
Italian design between tradition and innovation
There's an interesting paradox in Italian design. On the one hand, we're European leaders in terms of turnover (19,8% of the total) and employment. On the other, France and Germany are growing faster than us. According to the State of AI in Design Report 202589% of global designers say AI has improved their workflow. However, 40% of Italian design firms see AI as a future application for design skills, not as a replacement for human labor.
This caution isn't Luddism. It's awareness of an artisanal heritage that has made Made in Italy a global brand. Artemide's Eclisse was born from a sketch on a subway ticket. Alessi's Juicy Salif was inspired by a plate of fried calamari. Can an algorithm replicate that serendipity?
Cover your ears if you don't want to hear the answer. The answer is: yes. Or rather: maybe yes, one day. But in the meantime, discernment is needed. We need to understand that some works require an approach that AI, at least today, cannot guarantee: a deep understanding of the cultural context.
Linus: The Evangelion Lesson Cover
Evangelion isn't just an anime. It's a work about loneliness, trauma, and identity. It uses Christian symbolism to question the meaning of existence. A work that has influenced generations of creators. A worthy homage requires engaging in a dialogue with these elements: it requires reflection and thoughtful authorial choices.
AI can assist this process. It can generate drafts, suggest compositions, and speed up technical execution. But it can't replace the moment when the creative stops and asks: "Does this image do justice to the original work? Does it capture its essence? Or is it just an aesthetic surface, devoid of meaning?"
Linus's cover fell, probably, because these questions weren't asked with sufficient urgency. Or perhaps they were asked, but editorial time pressure prevailed. It happens. But the result remains: a missed opportunity.
The future of Italian design also depends on artificial intelligence. Face it, the data confirms it. But it also depends on the ability to recognize when technology is useful and when it's harmful. When it accelerates the creative process and when it undermines it.
Linus's Evangelion cover reminds us that it's not enough to have access to the most advanced tools: you need to know when to use them. And above all: when to stop and do everything by hand, with artisanal patience and cultural respect.
Because some stories deserve more than an algorithm.
