On October 27, 2025, Studio Ghibli—the beloved Tokyo-based animation studio behind Spirited Away and My Neighbor Totoro—formally demanded that OpenAI stop using its copyrighted artwork to train artificial intelligence models. The demand, delivered through the Japan Content Overseas Distribution Association (CODA), marks a pivotal moment in the global battle over AI and creative ownership. It’s not just about stolen frames or copied scenes—it’s about a visual language so distinctive, so emotionally resonant, that AI systems have learned to mimic it like a ghost haunting the internet.
The Ghiblifying Craze That Sparked the Backlash
It all exploded in March 2025, just after OpenAI launched its native image generator for ChatGPT. Suddenly, millions of users were turning selfies, pet photos, and even fast-food mascots into dreamlike Ghibli-style illustrations. A&W’s raccoon mascot? Turned into a wide-eyed forest spirit. The White House? Posted a cartoon of a fentanyl dealer being chased by a talking Soot Sprite. Sam Altman, OpenAI’s CEO, didn’t just watch the trend—he joined it. On March 28, 2025, he changed his X profile picture to an AI-generated version of himself in Studio Ghibli’s soft watercolor aesthetic. "Grind for a decade trying to help make superintelligence to cure cancer or whatever," he tweeted the next day, "wake up one day to hundreds of messages: 'look i made you into a twink ghibli style haha.'"
But for Studio Ghibli, this wasn’t flattery. It was violation.
Hayao Miyazaki’s Longstanding Rejection of AI Art
Behind the viral memes lies a quiet but fierce resistance from the studio’s soul: Hayao Miyazaki. Back in 2016, when shown AI-generated 3D animations, he didn’t just dismiss them—he recoiled. "I can't watch this stuff and find it interesting," he said. "I feel strongly that this is an insult to life itself." And later, more bluntly: "I am utterly disgusted. I would never wish to incorporate this technology into my work at all."
His words weren’t just artistic preference. They were a moral stance. Studio Ghibli’s films are hand-drawn, painstakingly crafted over years. Each frame carries the tremor of a human hand. AI doesn’t just copy the style—it erases the labor behind it.
The Legal Grey Zone: Can You Copyright a Style?
Legally, this is murky territory. Evan Brown, a partner at the law firm Neal & McDevitt, explained: "Copyright law has generally protected only specific expressions rather than artistic styles themselves." That means you can’t copyright the idea of big eyes, floating clouds, or gentle wind through tall grass. But you can copyright individual frames, characters, and compositions.
So where’s the line? When AI trains on hundreds—maybe thousands—of Ghibli frames to replicate their exact lighting, brushstroke texture, and emotional tone, is that still fair use? Ashish Chang Marbaniang, a partner at K&S Partners in India, thinks not. "For AI to create Ghibli images, it had to learn the artistic style... which means it used the original Ghibli images," he said. He pointed to the ongoing ANI Media v. OpenAI & Anr. case before the High Court of Delhi, where the court is weighing whether OpenAI’s use of news articles for training violates India’s Copyright Act, 1957. The precedent could ripple far beyond animation.
Privacy and the Hidden Cost of "Free" AI Art
There’s another layer no one talks about: privacy. OpenAI’s policy confirms it collects user-submitted images—including those "Ghiblified" selfies and dog photos—to train future models. Unless you opt out, your uploaded content becomes part of the training data. Luiza Jarovsky, a privacy expert at the AI, Tech & Privacy Academy, warned: "When people voluntarily upload these images, they give their consent to OpenAI to process them. This is a different legal ground... OpenAI gains both the raw and altered image data, potentially enhancing its ability to train future AI models."
So you didn’t just make a cute AI version of your cat. You helped teach AI how to imitate Studio Ghibli. And you didn’t get paid. You didn’t get asked. You just got swept up in a trend.
A Broader Battle: OpenAI’s "Ask Forgiveness, Not Permission" Model
This isn’t the first time OpenAI’s training methods have drawn legal fire. Nintendo has sued over AI-generated Pokémon. The estate of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. has challenged AI recreations of his voice and likeness. And now, Studio Ghibli—once seen as a gentle, whimsical force—is standing at the front lines of a cultural war.
OpenAI built its empire on the assumption that the internet is a public commons, free for the taking. But what happens when the commons belong to artists who never signed up?
What’s Next?
OpenAI hasn’t publicly responded to the October 27 cease-and-desist letter. But with its Sora video generator now expanding to more users, the flood of AI-generated Ghibli-style clips is only getting worse. The next step? Legal action. CODA has signaled it’s prepared to file suit if OpenAI doesn’t comply.
Meanwhile, creators are watching. Independent animators, illustrators, and indie studios—all who’ve spent decades cultivating their own styles—are wondering: Is this the future? Or are we just the training data?
Frequently Asked Questions
Does OpenAI have the right to use Studio Ghibli’s art to train AI?
Legally, it’s unclear. While copyright protects specific works—not artistic styles—training AI on thousands of copyrighted frames without permission may cross into infringement, especially when the output closely mimics the original. Legal experts like Ashish Chang Marbaniang argue this is not fair use, particularly when the AI learns the unique textures and emotional cues of Ghibli’s hand-drawn aesthetic. The Delhi High Court’s decision in the ANI Media case could set a critical precedent.
Why is Hayao Miyazaki so opposed to AI art?
Miyazaki sees animation as an act of human labor and emotional expression, not mechanical replication. In 2016, he called AI-generated animation "an insult to life itself," criticizing its lack of soul and the erasure of the artist’s physical effort. His opposition isn’t about technology—it’s about the value of time, touch, and intention in art. Studio Ghibli’s films take years to make. AI generates them in seconds. To him, that’s not innovation. It’s devaluation.
Can I still make Ghibli-style AI art for personal use?
Technically, yes—for now. OpenAI hasn’t blocked Ghibli-style prompts, and most users aren’t being targeted. But legally, you’re still contributing to a system that trained on copyrighted material without consent. If Studio Ghibli wins its case, future tools could be restricted or require licensing. Even personal use could become legally risky if AI models are found to have directly replicated protected elements.
How does this affect other artists and studios?
This case is a warning bell for every creative industry. Illustrators, comic artists, musicians, and even photographers are watching closely. If AI can replicate Studio Ghibli’s style without permission, what’s stopping it from mimicking the work of indie illustrators, anime studios, or traditional painters? The fear isn’t just about lost revenue—it’s about losing control over how your art is seen, used, and decontextualized in a world where machines learn from your life’s work without asking.
What’s the difference between inspiration and AI training?
Inspiration means studying a style, absorbing its essence, and creating something new with your own hand. AI training means feeding it hundreds of original works, letting it statistically reconstruct their patterns, then generating near-identical copies. One is human creativity. The other is algorithmic replication. Studio Ghibli doesn’t object to fans being inspired—they object to their life’s work being used as raw material for a corporate AI without consent or compensation.
Could this lead to AI licensing fees for artists?
Possibly. If courts rule that training on copyrighted material without permission is infringement, the industry may shift toward licensing models—where AI companies pay artists for data use, much like music streaming royalties. Some platforms are already testing opt-in artist programs. But for now, most creators have no say. Studio Ghibli’s stand could be the catalyst that forces that change.