Traditionally, drawing is seen as an imitative art in that artists create images based on real things. Naturally, this imitation can range from copying entire scenes to creating an original assembly from bits and pieces of real things. Descartes, in the painter analogy in his Meditations, makes note of this interesting nature of painting (which also applies to drawing). He considers that dreams are assembled like paintings from bits of real things. At the very least, he argues (before moving on to even greater skepticism), the colors used are real.
Moving away from metaphysics and epistemology back to aesthetics, imitating real things does not disqualify a drawing from being art. In fact, artists are often praised for their ability to accurately imitate reality. For example, my friends mistakenly claimed that I am an artist because they could recognize who I was drawing. Interestingly, though this realism is often praised, there might be a point at which a drawing is too real to be considered art.
One argument for this is easy enough. When I taught an aesthetics class, I demonstrated my lack of artistic ability and asked my students why my badly drawn capybara was not art. They pointed out the obvious—it did not look much a capybara because it was so badly drawn. I then ask them if it would be art if I could draw better and they tend to agree. I then asked about photocopying or scanning the picture I drew my capybara from. They pointed out the obvious—that would not be art, just a copy.
Obviously, part of the reason the photocopy or scan would not be art is that it is just a mechanical reproduction. Things become considerably more interesting when a photorealistic image is created not by a technological means of duplication, but by hand. For example, Samuel Silva recreated the image of a red haired girl from a photo by Kristina Taraina as well as other photorealistic images. While Silva works with color Bic pens (seriously), Paul Cadden creates his photorealistic works by drawing and with paints. He, however, uses the term “hyperrealism” rather than “photorealism.”
Clearly, the creation of such realism in imitation requires great technical skill. For example, Silva can create photorealistic colors using Bic pens and this demonstrates an impressive mastery of color. There is also the obvious technical skill required to imitate a photograph with such incredible accuracy.
However, technical skill alone does not make something art. After all, this technical skill can be exceeded by a decent color photocopier or a smartphone camera.
It might be objected that technical skills do make it art, even though a machine can do it better. To use an analogy, the fact that a scooter could beat a champion runner does not prove that the runner is not an athlete. Likewise, the fact that a machine can imitate better than Silva or Cadden does not mean that they are not artists. This leads to a second point about art and imitation.
The problem, it can be argued, is not that a machine can imitate better than Silva or Cadden. Rather, it is that there seems to be a point at which the exactitude of the imitation ceases to be a contribution to artistry and begins to detract from it. While it seems unlikely that an exact tipping point can be specified, it does certainly seem that this is the case. Why this is so can be shown by returning to the reason why a mechanical copy is not art: there is nothing in the copy that is not in the original (laying aside duplication defects). As such, the more exact the copy of the original, the less room there is for whatever it is that makes a work art. As such, to argue that Silva or Cadden is an artist requires showing that they do more than merely copy. That is, they must add something aesthetically significant to their work that is not in the original. Otherwise, they could be seen as organic photocopiers—somewhat like how computers were once humans who did math.
One way to approach this matter is an analogy to photography. By its very nature, an unaltered photograph merely captures an image of what is there (photons bouncing of surfaces and all that). What the photographer adds is her perspective—that is, she selects what she will capture and thus what makes the work art is not that it duplicates reality (which it must by the laws of physics) but that the photographer has added that something extra (which, to steal from Locke’s Indian, I must say is “something I know not what”).
As such, someone who creates photorealistic images of photos could be adding that something extra in a way comparable to what photographers do when they create their art (assuming that a photograph can be art).
The obvious reply is that a person who is creating a photorealistic re-creation of a photograph does not seem to be adding that something extra. Cadden does, however, claim that he is not engaging in photorealism, but rather in what he calls hyperrealism. He says that
“Hyperreal paintings and sculptures are not strict interpretations of photographs, nor are they literal illustrations of a particular scene or subject. Instead, they utilise additional, often subtle, pictorial elements to create the illusion of a reality which in fact either does not exist or cannot be seen by the human eye” and he adds that “Furthermore, they may incorporate emotional, social, cultural and political thematic elements as an extension of the painted visual illusion; a distinct departure from the older and considerably more literal school of Photorealism.”
From a theoretical standpoint, Cadden is certainly on solid ground. After all, he makes an argument analogous to the one used above, namely that he adds that “aesthetic extra” that makes his work more than a technical achievement in manual duplication. There is, however, the question of whether that “aesthetic extra” is present in his works. Since he works from photographs, it seems easy enough to put the matter to an empirical test by comparing his works to the original and giving due consideration to the difference. As such, if his work differs in aesthetically significant ways from the original image, then it would be safe enough to consider it art and him an artist. In any case, both Silva and Cadden are remarkably talented and do amazing work. While my drawing skill has increased dramatically from my capybara days, I am not an artist—I merely apply graphite to paper in the form of recognizable shapes. After all, my indisputable theory of art is that if I can do it, it ain’t art.
A Philosopher’s Blog is Now on Substack!
You can subscribe and read for free.