Does AI Art Devalue Human Art? Part I: Skepticism, History, and the Question of Value
Art has always existed in tension with technology. Each new tool that enters the studio—whether the camera, the printing press, or Photoshop—has provoked the same uneasy question: does this innovation diminish the work of human artists, or simply expand the field of what we call art? With the arrival of AI image generation, the question has returned with new urgency, fueled by lawsuits, cultural debate, and a flood of algorithmically generated images.
The anxiety is real. To many collectors, curators, and working artists, AI art feels different than past disruptions. It is not just another tool, but an engine capable of producing more “art” in minutes than some painters manage in a lifetime. At a time when scarcity has historically defined artistic value, AI’s ability to create abundance risks devaluing the very concept of originality.
A Long History of Skepticism
The resistance to AI art is not without precedent. When photography emerged in the 19th century, many painters declared it the death of their craft. Charles Baudelaire dismissed photography as “art’s most mortal enemy,” fearing that mechanical reproduction would displace painting’s spiritual depth. Yet painting survived—because it offered something different.
“Marcel Duchamp upended traditional notions of originality with his infamous Fountain (1917), a mass-produced urinal presented as art.”
In the 20th century, Marcel Duchamp upended traditional notions of originality with his infamous Fountain (1917), a mass-produced urinal presented as art. The work was derided as a joke, yet it shifted the conversation permanently toward concept and context rather than mere craft. Later, the arrival of Photoshop in the 1990s sparked similar anxieties. Critics worried digital manipulation would make photography meaningless, stripping away the authenticity of the captured moment. Today, few would claim Photoshop devalued photography. Instead, it created a new discipline.
The parallels are instructive. Each innovation initially met with outrage eventually became normalized, though not without friction and loss. Many traditional photographers struggled to adapt to digital. Many conceptual artists still polarize audiences. AI now sits in this same lineage, but with unique complexities.
The Christie’s Moment and Market Perception
The contemporary debate erupted in 2018 when Christie’s auctioned Portrait of Edmond de Belamy, a blurry AI-generated print, for $432,500—nearly 45 times its estimate. The sale was heralded as a landmark moment for AI art, but the aftermath revealed deeper ambivalence. Critics argued the work had novelty value but little artistic merit. Some accused Christie’s of exploiting hype rather than advancing serious discourse. As writer Jason Bailey noted at the time, “Christie’s sold the idea of AI art more than the art itself.”
Since then, the market has cooled. While a handful of AI works still attract attention, they rarely achieve similar valuations. Instead, collectors have turned cautious, questioning not only originality but authorship. Who, after all, is the “artist”—the coder, the prompter, or the machine?
Intellectual Property and the “Theft” Argument
One of the loudest criticisms of AI art is that it is built on theft. Lawsuits such as Getty Images v. Stability AI argue that training data scraped without permission violates copyright. Artists like Sarah Andersen have taken companies to court, claiming their work was ingested without consent, enabling AI to mimic their style.
The fear is that AI undermines the very foundation of copyright law, which protects the labor and originality of creators. If a machine can “learn” from thousands of artists without paying them, then reproduce convincing imitations, what incentive remains for human creation?
“A student’s sketchbook is private study; a dataset of 5 billion scraped images is something else entirely.”
Yet the analogy is more complicated than it first appears. Artists have always learned by copying. Students trace Da Vinci’s sketches, replicate Rembrandt’s brushstrokes, and redraw anatomy plates. Apprenticeships were once built on direct imitation. The difference is scale and consent. A student’s sketchbook is private study; a dataset of 5 billion scraped images is something else entirely. The ethical question is not whether learning from others is theft, but whether doing so without boundaries—and for profit—crosses a line.
Oversaturation and the Fear of Abundance
Even if copyright concerns were resolved, another challenge looms: the sheer volume of AI art. Platforms like Midjourney and Stable Diffusion generate billions of images monthly. Social feeds overflow with neon landscapes, uncanny portraits, and surreal mashups. For many viewers, this abundance dulls the impact. What once felt astonishing quickly becomes background noise.
This dynamic threatens to flatten artistic value. In traditional markets, scarcity has long been tied to worth: a Vermeer is priceless because there are so few; a Picasso print holds value because it carries the artist’s hand. AI art, by contrast, risks being perceived as infinitely reproducible, and therefore disposable. Collectors accustomed to scarcity may hesitate to invest in works that feel ubiquitous.
Cultural Perception Beyond Dollars
It is not just the market that matters, but culture. Art carries symbolic weight: it signals prestige in a gallery, intimacy in a home, and identity in a digital feed. Skeptics argue that AI art lacks the aura of authenticity that Walter Benjamin described in his essay on mechanical reproduction. Without a human struggle behind it, they fear, AI works cannot inspire the same reverence.
This concern resonates with audiences who value art not just for the image but for the story behind it: the sleepless nights of a painter, the social context of a movement, the hand of an individual confronting the canvas. AI, by contrast, feels bloodless to some—mere output without sacrifice.
“History shows that resistance often carries truth: technologies do reshape practices, sometimes destructively.”
At Mindset, we agree that these critiques deserve careful attention. It is too easy to dismiss skeptics as Luddites or gatekeepers. History shows that resistance often carries truth: technologies do reshape practices, sometimes destructively. Not every painter survived photography. Not every analog photographer survived digital. Some artists will feel displaced by AI, and some markets may indeed contract.
Yet history also shows that culture adapts. New mediums do not erase old ones, but they do change their context and perceived value. The real question is not whether AI art devalues human art in absolute terms, but how the ecosystem will rebalance. Will AI works become a lower tier of cultural production, like stock photography? Or will curated and contextually meaningful AI art find a lasting place alongside human-made work?
Toward a Nuanced Debate
For now, skepticism is part of the process. Critics are right to demand clarity on authorship, copyright, and authenticity. They are right to note the risks of oversaturation. And they are right to wonder whether an art form without human struggle can truly inspire us.
But the debate is not over. Just as photography carved a new niche, and digital art forged legitimacy, AI art will find its level. Whether it devalues or enhances human art depends less on the algorithm than on how we, as a culture, choose to engage with it.
At Mindset Art Collective, we stand in the middle of that debate. We take the anxieties seriously, even as we look toward possibilities. Part II of this series will explore how AI, far from devaluing art, may serve as a creative partner for human artists—expanding rather than diminishing the boundaries of imagination.
Sources
Artsy, 6 Artists on How Artificial Intelligence Is Changing Their Work (2023)
Christie’s, Portrait of Edmond de Belamy auction results (2018)
Artnome, “Christie’s AI Art Auction: Hype vs. Reality” (2018)
Walter Benjamin, The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction (1935)
Getty Images v. Stability AI (2023 filings)
Sarah Andersen v. Stability AI et al. (2023 filings)
Baudelaire, quoted in The Salon of 1859