AI ART!?! A Discourse on Creativity and Value
When robots paint do we call them paintings
Is art intrinsically tied to worth, or is it an act of self-expression? This question forms the crux of the debate surrounding AI and art. The primary concern I have with this discussion is that we apply the term "art" to a plethora of things. Much like love, art is almost indescribable; it has definitions and meaning, but that meaning is relative. We each perceive it differently; thus, if you don't think AI-created "art" is truly "art," then you are correct, because it doesn't fit your definition of what art is. In this blog, I will outline my understanding of art and explain why I believe it's unfair to declare that AI "art" isn't art.
Art! As I Understand It
In my view, art falls into two categories: Expressive and Public. The first, 'expressive art,' refers to creations born from emotion. For example, this could be a poem your friend writes when they're feeling down, or a drawing your child made to introduce you to their imaginary friend. These pieces come from our hearts and minds to depict our thoughts, feelings, and dreams. They disregard technique, experience, or craft. Their value lies in their creation, not their exhibition.
On the other hand, 'public art' is more tangible. It's treated as a tradable commodity, something bought and sold. It's the kind of art you see in spaces such as museums, cafes, galleries, or on buildings. It's art that is recognized as art—the kind the average person on the street would label as art. It's a painting whose worth is known because it was created by an artist. This art is the work of Picassos, Pollocks, Da Vincis, Morrises, and many others. It's all the artists you can name, and it's the work we debate in art schools.
Issues arise when we start defining public art as expressive art. Public art is intrinsically tied to a value system, be it cultural or financial. We look at it and either know or are told by others, that it has worth. When we start conflating that worth with expression, we create the correlation that expression equals value, and the more valuable the "art" is, the more expressive or meaningful it is.
The connection of expressive art with public art is, in my opinion, often done by novice artists and people outside of the art world. They perceive expression as valuable—which I agree it is—and then they see art that is described as "valuable" and they connect the two because both hold value. It requires a deeper look into the art world to know how a piece of art's value is determined. There can be no truer example of this than the Mona Lisa—a simple portrait by Leonardo da Vinci that depicts a woman against a landscape background. The painting was valued at a staggering "US $100 million in 1962, equivalent to $1 billion as of 2023." ("Value of 1962 US Dollars today - Inflation Calculator". www.inflationtool.com.) This valuation makes it the most valuable work of art in history. However, its value is not due to it being the best painting ever made or the most meaningful painting ever. It is valued this high because of a theft, a satirical art piece, and marketing (read https://www.britannica.com/story/why-is-the-mona-lisa-so-famous). This work represents what an average consumer of the art world would describe as good art. But it is not an expressive piece of art. It would be challenging to find someone who can tell you the meaning of the work, yet it is art, and it is valuable.
AI Poses a Risk to Artists' Livelihoods
The phrase 'starving artist' is a well-known descriptor of an artist's life, and to some extent, it rings true. Success in the art world is hard to come by, requiring a blend of skill, luck, education (either formal or self-taught), time, and more. Imagine dedicating non-stop effort for a decade to perfect your craft, and just as you begin to taste success, a robot steps in and takes your job. It's natural to look at that robot with animosity, to feel stripped of your rights, and to blame it for your loss. AI is a tool that is already and will continue, taking artists' jobs, which is a bitter pill to swallow. As an artist, it's disheartening to watch machines slowly replace my craft. But does this have anything to do with what's being produced? If a robot takes over a car factory worker's job, does it mean the cars aren't cars or that they are of lesser quality? I don't believe so. It just means that humans aren't making cars anymore, but cars are still being made. If we tie art to the means of its production, then we need to reassess our labels. If the value of art lies in the effort put into its creation, then we need to reconsider naturally talented artists and question whether their ease in creating art qualifies them as artists. We should also think about artists like Warhol and Marcel Duchamp and ask if their works can genuinely be called art when they didn't personally create the items they signed. This debate forces us to examine things currently not considered art and potentially see them as such. Isn't a carpenter, who spent years learning their trade and building houses, an artist? When we start linking art to its production, we limit what can and can't be categorized as art.
In the way we value art now, it's crucial to understand that public art is not about hard work, time spent, or even unique ideas. It's about what can be sold, what catches the eye, and what those with deep pockets are willing to buy. From my perspective, the rejection of AI art is a form of gatekeeping, with those profiting from art looking at the robot and declaring it doesn't create art.
AI Art as a Remix or Theft
The labor of the past always serves to benefit the present. Artists have continually looked at others' work and used it either directly or indirectly to create new pieces. It isn't challenging to find examples of artists who directly borrow from others and remix to create new works—Shepard Fairey, Andy Warhol, and Duchamp. It's in the nature of art to borrow from the past. However, I don't believe the debate around AI and theft has anything to do with the use of an artist's materials to create new media. It's about the use of public art that holds value to create new public art that also holds value; it's a discourse about commerce and theft of goods, not art. Let's look at Duchamp's ready-made, works created from household items whose presentation transformed their meaning. Duchamp took these items, recontextualized them, and presented them to the world as art. If Duchamp stole the urinal for the work "Fountain," would that make the commentary less artistic? I don't think so. Or let's look at Lichtenstein and his tracing of comic books to create art—his direct copies of other artists' work, without attributions, are considered art. The conversation about how these tools source their content and how artists are paid is not one about art; it's about law and commerce. These do not form solid arguments against AI art as art.
Tool Gatekeeping and Expression
The tools to create art have long been held by privileged groups. There are, of course, exceptions, but when you look at history, the individuals who have been able to shape our artistic landscapes are those who had access to the tools to do so. The stories we see are not the only ones worth telling, and the more accessible something gets, the better it becomes. The unfortunate parts of this, in my opinion, are twofold. First, there is more mediocre work, more clutter to sift through. Second, it disrupts the artists' financial landscape, making it more difficult for established artists to compete in the new art world. But for me, the benefits outweigh these costs. People who have never been heard in these spaces will have a voice. Writing and publishing provide excellent examples of what can happen when you give people access to communicate and how the world can adjust, filtering through the mediocre to find the good. As for artists, The laws attempting to prevent the onslaught of AI art are never going to be able to combat this new artistic world, as its growth and evolution will quickly outpace the rules around it. standing defiantly in the face of a tsunami may be admirable, but it will not stop the wave. I'm not suggesting you just sit back and give up, if you don't want to be swallowed up by this new world, you must adapt and develop your skills to either directly compete with AI or integrate it into your practice.
Something to consider
What if we considered ourselves (artists) as the factory, not the workers? What if the art isn't the end product of labor, but the ability to create and execute ideas, and the tools used to do so are no more art or artists than the paintings themselves?
