A.I. Art: Clarification & Controversy

I wasn’t even planning on writing a blog post this week let alone one on such a topic as art generated by artificial intelligence, but as it is part of my industry and I’ve seen so much outrage from my peers (many who are friends) I thought I’d do a little digging and put something a little more comprehensive together than, “Support artists! Denounce technology!

I’m going to try and keep all of this as brief, simple, and informative as I possibly can, but I’m also going to try and approach this from a (slightly) less biased angle.

What is A.I., and is it Bad?

You don’t have to be relatively well informed to know what AI is. It covers all aspects of our lives from taking care of minor tasks we don’t even think about to the stuff of science fiction nightmares requiring Will Smith to show us that even machines can—and in fact do—love. 

Recently I finished reading Yuval Noah Harari’s Homo Deus: A Brief History of Tomorrow, a follow up to his bestseller Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind. Harari writes a lot about AI and its benefits. Without going into too much detail and wasting time here, the three big takeaways for now are that:

  • AI is actually a really good thing that can drastically help with all sorts of things to improve life everywhere for everyone 

  • Fundamentally, human life as we continue to understand how it works is not that different from how AI learns, adapts, and grows itself

  • It’s becoming clearer that creative things people believed AI could never reproduce aren’t far off and many areas like classical music are actually surpassing humans in quality, structure, and beauty 

I know most people will not believe any of what I have just written, and that’s completely fine. I would never insist you take my word (or anyone else’s) on anything as gospel at–a–glance. I would strongly encourage you to do your own research though. The point is, however, that whether we like it or not, the world is going to continue to change, it always has, and it’s certainly not going to stop because a few of us don’t like the idea of being replaced by anyone or anything. Automation has been changing how we do our jobs and live our lives for centuries, and the whole process has continued to increase at breakneck speed, especially since the 1980s. In other words, AI is most definitely here to stay, and it’s probably better we figure out how to change with it, rather than stubbornly anchor ourselves against it until the next generation sees us as living fossils who refuse to accept change.

But we’re not here for a lecture on science or philosphy from some Muppet–loving Jersey boy whose blog readership doesn’t extend far past his own family and close friends. So let’s instead talk about AI generated art, specifically the latest fad known as Lensa or “Magic Avatars” because there’s a lot to unpack and it gets complicated. 

Avatar Insanity or High Art?

Remember Bitmojis? I hated Bitmojis when they first debuted. Not because of how well or poorly they’re drawn (depending on your tastes), but because I didn’t come up with the idea first. For those not familiar, Bitmojis aren’t too dissimilar from modern day avatars you create like Meta’s more CGI looking Facebook avatars or Apple’s Memojis. My argument at the time was also that they took away opportunities from artists like myself to create illustrations for profit. On the flip side, they give people who do not possess the skill to draw an opportunity to express themselves creatively quite literally. 

Bitmoji, Facebook, and Memoji avatars of yours truly, and one I drew myself (2017)

The point is that there will always be new technology to engage users and experience something they would otherwise have to commission an artist for. I don’t know a single person that has ever created a digital avatar using some type of technology and then claim that their “artwork” was anything other than a fun opportunity to represent themselves online or even just to “jump on the bandwagon.”

Now I recognize this is a slippery slope that could lead to something more nuanced down the road, but for the time being, let’s all try and remember a social media avatar is not the same as a portrait or caricature that you would give as a gift, hang in your living room, or rock on the side of your 1988 conversion van as you drive to your next gig.

AI Art Stink

The main focus of this article and the commotion that it’s caused is a program called Lensa by Prisma AI. At a glance, Lensa is a pretty standard photo and video app that lets you take and edit media with a variety of different features. It’s most popular of course are the filters that “turn your photos into works of art in the style of famous artists” and transform them “with popular art styles - anime, cartoons, sketches, watercolors...” all by using artificial intelligence. The app is free but offers premium monthly or annual subscriptions. 

Okay, so nothing too new there. I am very far from having my finger on the pulse of any social media platform, but even I’m familiar with these types of things enough to know there are tons of them. I’ve even used some of them before myself, so why is this app getting artists in particular so upset?

The Lensa Learning Problem

Not too long ago (like literally just several months ago) Dall–E 2 debuted to slightly different fanfare. Dall–E 2 is also an AI art generator but it seems it’s absolutely ludicrous creations were more comical than threatening (for the most part). Hence, many people looked at Dall–E’s attempts as technological proof that a computer could never imitate the skill of an experienced artist. Or that optimistically, it’s still a ways off. 

Dall–E (and Lensa) uses Apple’s TrueDepth API which most iPhone users know as the same technology that allows them to unlock their phones just by looking at it. Dall–E 2 learned how to create its images by studying tons of information to create images based on text prompts. This AI learning technique is known as Stable Diffusion. 

This is tricky, but basically when AI uses Stable Diffusion, it’s not just learning to recognize features and characteristics of someone’s art, but essentially manipulating and reproducing elements from that art. So the issue then is that artists are accusing AI of using this learning technique by having Lensa specifically build its creations from existing art without permission from the artists it’s emulating. Now it’s hard to find sources to corroborate some of the allegations I’ve read, but many artists have actively accused Prisma AI of stealing their art specifically, requesting the company stop doing so repeatedly, then Prisma AI allegedly refusing and even cyber bullying them about it. There is compelling evidence to lend credibility to these claims where remnants of the artists signatures from original works are sometimes still visible in the AI generated art. 

Darker Secrets

Okay, maybe I’m coming across a little too unbiased by praising what AI could (or hopefully should) be even though I’ve stated in the past how infuriating and hurtful art theft can be. So let’s look at how one of the more nefarious problems with Lensa isn’t even allegations of art theft, but how it depicts your pictures when they become “art.”

A big problem with AI in general is that it learns its lessons from its creators, and even modern day AI—which is touted as pure—has repeatedly displayed racism, nepotism, and sexism. Lensa has lightened skin tones of people of color, struggled with (re)producing Asian features, and sexualized women and children. Other AI art generators have done similar unwarranted things like taken on macabre tones when “crossbreeding” images that did not previously convey violence. 

I want to be clear: these are not alarmist warnings that AI will rise up and destroy humanity. Artificial intelligence reflects the zeitgeist, which includes everything from cute and fun to morally questionable. In other words, whether it’s an art–stealing bot, a perverted algorithm, or even an altruistic ghost in the machine, it’s all taking its cue from us.

Now What?

So where do we go from here? As artists, we tend to react more emotionally because, you know, suffering is kind of “our thing” (until artificial intelligence corners the market on angst too). But like I mentioned before, technology is going to keep moving forward regardless of how we feel about it and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. A knee jerk reaction is to call out for regulation but that’s way easier said than done for two big reasons. 

While there has been initiative in congress to try and moderate how things like AI continue to develop, bureaucracy—love it or loathe it—purposely moves slowly to make sure it’s covering all its bases properly (and that is an exceptionally gracious and arguably naive platitude). On top of that, it’s an antiquated system that’s literally hundreds of years old. Technology moves ludicrously faster, meaning that by the time well intentioned and thought out legislation finally passes even in the best of circumstances, the applied science behind that technology is usually obsolete, meaning any government progress was all for nothing. 

The second problem is that government officials aren’t exactly young entrepreneurs anymore who even understand the technology they’re hoping to regulate, prioritize, or control. So when you ask older people using an even older system to help answer these questions, you eventually have to consider if the whole process wouldn’t be better served by the AI you want them to regulate in the first place! Understand though that this is not an endorsement to willfully hand the keys over to tech bros like Elon Musk or Sam Bankman–Fried. It’s pretty clear that being rich does not equal being responsible… or smart… or ethical… or competent… or sane. 

So if creative people only know how to get upset over it, and our leaders only know how to politicize it, as usual, it all comes down to you, the user. AI really can do incredible things, but moving forward, it’s up to us to decide how we’ll use it. 

And this is something everyone really needs to learn how to do better. Consider if that neat new AI avatar is worth the likes verses its privacy policy. Yeah, that’s a whole other kettle of fish because one thing practically no one understands is what kind of personal information you allow software developers access to when you agree to terms and services. 

Like almost every app, Lensa uses legalese to ensure you maintain the rights to your photos, but then vaguely explains they have the right to use those photos to independently aid in research, development, and improving new and existing products. 

This is not a dystopian outlook from a conspiracy theorist either. Your personal data is way more important to all of these developers than what kind of review you leave them on the App Store. A great rule of thumb when you download an app is its cost. If the app is free, then you’re the product that’s for sale.

Sources

I did a fair amount of research for this post, so if you’d like to read a bit more in depth on all of this, please check out these articles:

Lensa AI app: What to know about the self portrait generator by Meera Navlakha
Mashable

Understanding the impact of automation on workers, jobs, and wages by Harry J. Holzer
Brookings

Prisma is coming to Android, but there's a way to get it sooner by Stan Schroeder
Mashable

Careful — Lensa is Using Your Photos to Train Their AI by Shanti Escalante-De Mattei
ARTnews

Lensa, the AI portrait app, has soared in popularity. But many artists question the ethics of AI art by Morgan Sung
NBC News

‘Magic Avatar’ App Lensa Generated Nudes From My Childhood Photos by Olivia Snow
Wired

Stable Diffusion
Wikipedia

DALL–E
Wikipedia

If you’d like to track what some artists are saying, a lot of insight on Lensa’s theft I read came from Jon Lam on Instagram. He credited Lauryn Ipsum for the discovery of remnants of artist’s signatures on AI creations. Karla Ortiz is helping lead the fight for artists rights.

What No One Will Tell You [But You Should Know] About Art Theft

When I was in my early twenties, I drove my dad’s 1986 Lincoln Continental that I “improved” by attaching a cheap portable CD player (featuring the latest anti–skip technology) with velcro to the dashboard that then ran a cassette adapter to the stereo system. It was the early aughts and I had a humongous portfolio of homemade mix CDs thanks to Napster and Limewire. I know, I know; I’m even cooler than you ever imagined.

2002

Less than a week after pimping my ride, someone crashed a brick through the window and ripped the CD player and portfolio from inside the Lincoln. The door was unlocked, the CD player retailed for $!0, the window replacement cost me $400, I was picking shards of glass from the car for the next three years, and truth be told I was more embarrassed how much Spice Girls the thief would discover on my CD mixes than anything else. This is a relatively mild case, but theft is such a personal crime that it’s hard not to feel extreme anger and frustration over even minor infractions.

The irony is how little we all think about that individual connection. I just admitted the hardest part was getting over the theft of the music I illegally downloaded (and still had the MP3s on my hard drive back home anyway). So this is all to say no one is truly blameless, and to my topic at hand, we’ve all taken part in online art theft in particular to some degree. Maybe you downloaded something from Google to put in a PowerPoint presentation or make a fun birthday card for a family member. I’ve seen tons of Facebook and Twitter banners or avatars that certainly weren’t created by the user or credited to the artists that did. Consider this blog post your public shaming and absolution on the matter. May the almighty and merciful Lord grant you indulgence, absolution, and remission of your sins. Amen.

Seriously though, the main reason I want to write about online art theft is to show you just how poorly the odds are stacked against the creators, why it affects everyone, and how you can help. There are so many insanely frustrating and infuriating stories that I reached out to four of my artist friends who have experienced art theft so that I could get help to paint you a picture of how common this actually is and submit real experiences for your consideration.

Justin Piatt is a young up and coming artist who was flabbergasted to find someone else he did not know selling his art on various merchandise on RedBubble.com

“I feel frustrated, helpless, and taken advantage of. I was slightly flattered at first because I've never had this happen before and it almost feels like validation that my artwork is finally good enough to get stolen, but that quickly faded.

Now I just think about how any money, however little it might be, that these thieves receive from this is money that could have gone toward my rent or taking care of my wife. And it makes me mad because my struggling so much to make a career out of being a ‘starving artist’, and I'm literally having the food taken out of my mouth.”

The theme of being flattered at first is definitely a running one, but similarly most artists also know how difficult it is to sell their own stuff. People who just steal content tend to be a lot more savvy when it comes to online sales and can turn a profit quickly. I should mention that Red Bubble is actually pretty quick when it comes to taking down stolen art, but that’s where the good deeds stop. The seller is usually free to continue using their shop and whatever sales they’ve made using stolen art does not affect their remittance. Red Bubble also insists you not put these sellers on blast but rather let them handle things.

Handling things” is where $#!t really hits the fan. There’s basically two ways to go about calling a thief out. Neither works well. The first is old west style, contacting the individual directly. Now keep in mind you’ve just found some schmuck who is openly and arrogantly selling your art, so realistically, you’re most likely in a foul mood. “Hey buttface! That’s mine! Take it down or I’ll call my lawyer!” Yeah right. Often, the seller can actually file a claim against you for harassment and now you’re the one on trial. Plus, hostility is usually met with more hostility. When you have art stolen and the chance to confront the seller directly, you have to eat a larger–than–humanly acceptable slice of humble pie and politely ask them to remove the stolen item for sale, “Please and thank you, hugs and kisses.” Barf. My personal experience is that 9 times out of 10, they’ll play nice… for the time being, but now you have to keep vigilant watch on this kleptomaniac, because they will almost certainly do it again.

Now to be fair, there are very rare instances where online art theft turns out to be a misunderstanding, or at the very least, a lovely kind of ignorance. My good friend Jamie Carroll tells this sweet story:

“Someone was printing a Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem image (a licensed piece that I created for Disney and Acme Archives' Dark Ink department) and putting it on socks. I contacted the site and the person responsible. It turned out to be a couple of kids raising money for some school thing. They were just using Googled images. There's a lot of that. They took it down, I received an apology and a pair of socks.”

They also just might not respond. Why should they? There’s the likelihood the site they’re selling your stuff on doesn’t allow direct communication anyway, so now it’s on you to report theft to the web host. Man, get ready to have even more of your precious time taken from you. As mentioned, Print On Demand (POD) sites like Red Bubble have links to submit Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA) Takedown Notices that don’t even question things. If someone says it’s a problem, they’re not interested in pursuing the matter further and you’re more or less done. Larger corporations however have the time and power to let sellers sell, and that’s more money for them! When I contacted Amazon about someone selling my art without my permission, they required I prove the art was mine. I sent the original link I posted the art to, a ToughPigs article showcasing the work, and this website as proof of my identity and profession as an artist. They proceeded to tell me that this was not enough to verify my claim and insisted I refill out their exceptionally long and tedious form again for re–submission. When I protested, the email chain closed and suggested I apply for Amazon Brand Registry—something that might work if the thief wasn’t selling my fan art of Kermit the Frog who is already trademarked with the Walt Disney Company and if I was willing to pay between $225–$400. Thanks, I hate it!

My email correspondence with Amazon.

The amount of time one has to devote to fighting online theft is exhausting. As Jamie explains;

“I  get pretty cheesed, but there's little I can do most of the time. Trying to get justice for art theft is like a full time job of whack-a-mole. I report the ones I can, but then let it go.“

Of all my artist friends, Kenny Durkin probably gets ripped off the most. He has told me he finds his work being sold without his permission on a daily basis, even going so far as to say, "I can teach anyone how to get their art stolen. I'm really good at that." Like Justin, Kenny was initially flattered and even encouraged by others to view any theft as flattery, but his view on the subject changed very quickly.

"I went through a huge phase where I got really angry every single time it happened, even to the point of never wanting to post artwork ever again. Basically 'taking my ball and going home'. Now I see it as a minor annoyance, it seems like most of the time the stealing of my artwork is done by bot accounts. So I try to shut them down the best I can."

Photo taken by Kevin Williams and Lin Workman, 2007

Another form of online art theft doesn't even take potential money from the artists pockets, but rather goes viral and takes away something arguably more important: their name! I always get a kick when someone on Instagram (especially an official account or someone with lots of followers) posts my art, but then feel like a drowning rat trying to get the account to credit or even just tag me. I'm willing to bet paper money most people reading this blog have seen this very touching tribute of Kermit reaching out and touching a photograph of Jim Henson. It's so good that it's just assumed it was created and owned by The Henson Company or Walt Disney Studios. In fact, it was staged and shot by my friend Kevin Williams and his associate Lin Workman. This picture has been passed around so much that Kevin actually wrote about its origin and continued life around the web that I strongly recommend you read.

"I guess the first thing was getting over the shock that so many people liked it that they were sharing and sending it all over the world, ignoring that it originated with our little team here in Memphis.

Friends noticed the image getting posted everywhere and would tag me in it, and I would follow through with 'Here's our story.' Eventually, I wrote the article to link to just because it was easier than repeating the story every time."

Kevin basically threw his hands up and said, "Here, please read this!" Jamie again succinctly explains how discovering online art theft over and over again weighs an artist down:

"Friends notify me all of the time about bootlegs and, to be honest, I'd rather not know. It just puts me in an angry and helpless place where I want to do something, but can't."

Online art theft is so burdensome to creators that they feel helpless to a point of giving up or changing their online presence completely. That can lead to creative slumps or a desire to not grace an online audience with something that can truly make someone else's day. And none of that even comes close to dealing with the stress and frustration over what to do when an artist learns their work has been stolen. Just finding the time to fight a battle that will usually end in defeat is more than should be asked of someone who didn't even want to take part in this problem in the first place.

So what can you do? First and foremost, support artists directly. If you want something specific, either commission your favorite artist via DMs or email or find out if they have an online store. Those that do will have links readily available on their own websites or in the descriptions of their social media accounts.

My dad wanted a coffee mug of a bootleg Chef, so I made him one myself instead.

Try and avoid products from ads on social media. They almost always sell stolen art. Even items that look official usually have no affiliation with the intellectual properties (IPs) they're selling or especially the artists that created them. Facebook in my experience is infamous for selling stuff like this. As a hardcore Muppet fan, I can tell you no official merchandise of The Swedish Chef saying, "Vert Da Furk" would ever get approval from any board of directors associated with the property. All they need is a clean looking website and no one thinks twice.

Finally, if you see someone's art being sold that you know does not belong to the seller, don't just notify the artist, submit a DMCA Takedown Notice yourself! The more voices fighting an issue tend to get noticed quicker. If you see someone post art they didn't create (primarily because they're not an artist), politely ask them to credit the artist. If you want to post someone else's art, most artists will be thrilled at the attention but only if you make it clear who the creator is.

Many thanks to Justin, Jamie, Kenny, and Kevin for contributing to this post. Please check out their stuff and follow them on social media because they are super talented and genuinely wonderful humans the world could use more of.

Justin Piatt: UzzyWorks.com and @uzzyworks on Instagram
Jamie Carroll: jvcarroll.com and @jvcarroll4 on Instagram
Kevin Williams: muleycomix.blogspot.com and muleyshow.com
Kenny Durkin: kennydurkin.com and @thekennydurkin on Instagram and @Durkinworks on Twitter