Artificial Masters: The ARC Salon AI Scandal and the Crisis in Classical Art Leadership
Screengrab from Jake Taplin’s YouTube video, “How AI Tricked the World’s Largest Painting Competition.”
Artificial masters
Artificial masters
A recent controversy in the classical art world exposes the incompetence of its Old Guard™ leadership, while also revealing their narrow, idealized vision of what they want realist art to be: pretty white women standing at the edge of a forest.
In January 2025, the Art Renewal Center (ARC) announced the winners of its 17th International ARC Salon Competition, honoring a piece by “artist” Alyson J. Barton entitled The Witchling. The piece was submitted under the erroneous claim that it was an oil painting—when, in fact, it was an AI-generated image. Yes, you read that correctly: not an oil painting of an AI-generated image, but the digital JPEG itself.
The winners, honorable mentions, finalists, and semi-finalists will be sent to the moon in a time capsule via SpaceX for perpetuity. Is this how we want to memorialize the human race? While YouTuber Jake Taplin [1] masterfully crafted an exposé of Barton’s history of fraudulent image peddling (a modern-day digital carpetbagger), his closing thoughts point to a deeper, systemic issue. The real problem is not just the individual deception but the enabling attitudes of the classical art establishment—attitudes that prioritize prestige over integrity and uphold a vision of art that is both backward-looking and, in many ways, fundamentally out of touch with the contemporary landscape.
[1] Taplin made it explicit that he is done with the controversy and wants to continue making other content, despite this blowing up as a story within the Art world. He wants to tap out, likely due to the amount of pressure he has received from all sides of the debate. Please do not brigade his channel or socials.
Why does this matter?
The Art Renewal Center® (ARC) is a 501(c)(3) educational foundation that, according to their website, “lead[s] the revival of realism in the visual arts. It operates the largest online museum devoted to representational art, featuring works by the old masters, nineteenth-century, and twentieth-century artists. The ARC is the leading and only accreditation service for representational art schools, guaranteeing that their curricula, as well as the quality of both teacher and student work, meet rigorous standards to earn ARC Approval.
Their annual ARC Salon Competition is considered to be the most prestigious competition in the world for realist artists painting. Their rules are outlined as follows: “All entries must be original artwork, conceived and created by the entrant within the past three years. Works need to be original works of art and not copies of works by other artists. Painted over prints or drawings over prints are not acceptable in any category and are a direct violation of the rules of the competition. [...] [We do not] accept digital art or art with digital elements.”
It seems they do.
How did this come to light?
The ARC’s announcement of their winners included Barton’s The Witchling, which received an honorable mention in the portrait category and a purchase award from ARC.
Online grumblings from artists quickly arose. Tristan Elwell wrote on Facebook expressing his disproval. Following his own further investigation of Alyson Barton’s work, he edited his post: “I've added an image from when the piece was shown at the Salmagundi Club. It's cropped from a much larger photo, and deskewed, so the picture quality is very poor. Still, it seems from the photo that there are differences between the picture that was hung and the images on the ARC site and the artist's website/Instagram/etc.” Soon thereafter, Elwell discovered that the ARC updated the image on their site to the one shown at the Salmagundi Club.
From left to right: (1) winning image submitted by Barton; (2) actual painting submitted by Barton; (3) painting hung in Salmagundi Club; (4) the winning image run through an AI detection software.
Another artist on Facebook, Donato Giancola, edited an incredible before-and-after video demonstrating the differences between these two images.
Giancola writes, “I understand I have likely a far better discerning eye than their judges, but a simple loop and comparison to printed paper/canvas giclees will show the lack of physical media randomness and texture which occurs with traditional media. Digital prints display AMAZING surface homogeneity.”
Through his discerning visual analysis, Giancola also argues that not only was the original submitted image AI, but the swapped out version was simply a retouched print/canvas. The amateur brushstrokes display numerous landmark AI aberrations carried over from the original digital image. Note the inconsistent rendering of the edges; the poor integration of lighting; and the muddied mixing of the colors and value. Barton clearly lacks the technical expertise to paint anything near what was spat out by AI.
ARC’s Facebook post announcing its annulment of The Witchling was tepid, to say the least. It denied the allegations that the work was painted over a print, but acquiesced those that pointed to the “digital elements.” However, no mention of AI was made. On the post, Elwell comments, “[The fact] that you are still not addressing the fact that an obvious AI image was selected by your jury and purchased by your chairman, who was then unable to see the difference between what he bought and what he received, is extremely disappointing.” Giancola echoes this sentiment, and adds, “I really have to call into question your assessment of the physical artwork you have in your possession. Even I can tell it is a paint over, and I am working from horrible low resolution scans.” Such an oversight points to a deeper, systemic issue.
The real problem is not just the individual deception but the enabling attitudes of the classical art establishment—attitudes that prioritize prestige over integrity and uphold a vision of art that is both backward-looking and, in many ways, fundamentally out of touch with the contemporary landscape.
Who are the people behind ARC?
The Founder/Chairman of ARC, Fred Ross, and Co-Chair/COO, Kara Lysandra Ross are dominant authorities in the art world. They are the arbiters of quality and legitimacy, setting the standards for realist and figurative art for living artists. As authenticators for Sotheby’s, Christie’s, and their staff boasting prestigious educations and publications, what does it say of the state of art if they cannot recognize a fake? Media literacy is at such a detriment that not even the top professionals can recognize work which the human hand has not touched.
While the Rosses maintain impressive CVs, what is rather more grandiose is the manifesto published by Fred Ross on ARC’s website. Ross takes aim at the dominance of Modernism in the art world, arguing that its influence has led to a disconnect between contemporary art education and traditional techniques that are deeply rooted in realism—that is, direct engagement with the real world.
He suggests that Modernism has promoted a distorted view of art, undermining the value of representational works and the skills hard won through centuries of artistic practice.
Ross criticizes artists for perpetuating this ideology without mastering the classical techniques themselves. Ross instead advocates for a return to realist art, praising its emotional depth and connection to shared human experiences.
While this return is something we at Hellmouth encourage—a return to foundational instruction which is largely lost due to cuts in education as well as the general interest in art—the way that ARC discusses the topic leans dangerously close to authoritarian conservative rhetoric (see ArtNet News for reference).
Ross expresses a disparaging attitude towards abstract or experimental forms, saying, "Modernism claimed traditional art, as taught in the art academies throughout the 19th Century, was engaged in lying to the public."
Aside from Ross sounding like an insufferable douchebag (seriously, read the whole article if you dare need more proof of that), these excerpts provide rather apt ironies to the current AI controversy at hand. The Ross family’s complete failure to identify this as AI is surely humiliating, as it proves that despite their austere positioning in education and institutionalism, they are unable to understand even the most basic core ideas of nineteenth-century realism that forms the foundation for not only their business plan but also what one might describe as the post-Modern, late Capitalist brand and identity. As Taplin so explains in his closing statement on the ARC scandal,
“To [the Rosses], traditional realist art is just a symbol of a more conservative time gone by. They are not artists. They are not interested in history, or technique.”
“[...] These are art dealers, who are in the business of increasing the value of their collection. Giving someone a career through awards, connections, and patronage is a byproduct of their wealth generation. If the same gains can be achieved without the exhausting need to support an Artist, then AI artwork would serve just the same.”
Indeed, it is one voice of many which engage in ‘lying to the public’ for the sake of increasing market value for the goods they are peddling (be those Classical or Modernist).
“These people support a fantasy of what they want realist art to be. One that is easily summarized by their winning pieces: illuminated pretty white girls standing at the edge of a forest.”
It is no wonder, then, that Alyson Barton credits an ARC atelier for her Old Master training.
Who is Alyson Barton?
What a question. According to the Circle Foundation for the Arts (since her website is currently not operating), Alyson Barton studied fine art in Greater Manchester, England, graduating with a First Class BA Hons Degree in Fine Art and a Master of Arts before “studying the traditional drawing and painting techniques of the Old Masters” at the ARC Atelier of Fine Art in Edinburgh, Scotland.
She states, “My work pays homage to the mystical, ethereal beauty of nature and the land, whilst recognising its fragile vulnerability in the face of climate change.”
She, of course, makes no mention of AI’s impact on the environment. Her Instagram is dominated by atmospheric landscapes, While I am in no position to assess these diffused, foggy imagery for AI attributions, curiously scrubbed of her figurative work. Luckily, Jake Taplin documented her website before she was able to burn the evidence.
These atmospheric landscapes currently dominate the content available for viewing on her Instagram. While I am in no position to assess these diffused, foggy imagery for AI attributions, it is curious that her socials have otherwise been scrubbed of her figurative work. Luckily, Taplin documented her website before she was able to burn the evidence—and thankfully, censored some rather explicit material.
A screenshot of Barton’s website before February 10, 2025.
On her website, Barton presented herself as part of a lineage of Old Master painters in style, technique, and subject matter. But her attempt at even cobbling together the iconography of nineteenth-century painting falls dismally flat. With the deluge of hypersexualized female bodies littering the internet, the algorithm she exploited spawned near-pornographic renderings of tits and ass. Gone is the woman’s romantic belly rolls, hip dips, and soft thighs; instead, we are gifted the nauseating depiction of waif-like figures that might feature in a barely-legal centerfold.
Beyond the clear attributes of contemporary beauty ideals, the surface rendering and environmental emblems in her disjointed portraits serve as scattered remnants of algorithmic aberrations. As Taplin points out, what’s just as disgusting is that they’re all labeled as oil on canvas. Only one painting passes the human-recognition test, and it’s the following:
Which… no comment there, aside from the fact that the original image from which the composition derived was likely AI-generated. Process notwithstanding, this haphazard rendition carries the hallmarks of AI renderings: the hair that disappears into the hilt of the dagger, seemingly converging; the plastic-fantastic, perfectly circular breasts; and the strange alien-like fingers (that thumb structure is inconceivable). What results is an abomination of a computer brain coupled with lack of skill.
Despite her obvious usage of AI as an artistic crutch, Barton still appears to be quivering in her boots at the thought of AI taking away from her craft; on just January 30th, she posted a detail of an oil painting. In the caption, she writes: “I have not shared many of my oil paintings on Instagram, beyond landscapes, as they often contain nudity which in the past has hurt my account reach. I will be sharing much more going forward, including process images, which I am now capturing as paintings progress. With the dangerous advent of AI, this is now a critical aspect of the creative process for artists.”
If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.
The Debate Over AI’s Virtue Will Continue
The leading comment in Taplin’s Youtube exposé reads: “If the work is beautiful, who cares who painted it, AI or not? [...] Personally, I would rather have a beautiful painting painted by AI than a rotten painting painted by Picasso. I love paintings, not painters.”
This rather reductionary take was written, no less, by Michael John Angel, the juror of the portrait category at ARC. You read that correctly: Angel was indeed one of the actual jurors in the category that recognized Barton’s work for an award. Moreover, he is the founder of the Angel Academy of Art, a Florentine school who educates students on the methods of the Great Masters. Angel, thus, has been making his money teaching students his supposed passion for the craft—the hours and demand upon the body that go into making a painting—all while, in his own words, caring little for the painters themselves. Why engage with the process at all if one can outsource it to an algorithm?
Angel’s comments may be a pitiful attempt at covering up his humiliation at his inability to identify the image as AI; a defense that more or less failed miserably. It certainly reveals levels of poor media literacy. While a preference for a traditional style or technique is not in and of itself a moral failing, it becomes problematic when that preference blinds one to the complex realities of today’s art world. In this context, Angel’s dismissal of the importance of the artist’s identity or the creative process reveals a deeper, almost dangerous trend: the devaluation of human artistry in favor of technological novelty and aesthetic purity.
The implication in his comments—“who cares who painted it?”—suggests a commodification of art that reduces it to mere aesthetics, detached from the artist’s intentions, struggles, and the historical context that shapes every stroke of the brush. Art is more than a product to be consumed; it’s a dialogue between the artist and the world, often reflecting deeply personal, cultural, or social concerns. The artist’s identity and process are integral parts of the work, and to suggest otherwise diminishes the very essence of what it means to create.
The rhetoric of “beauty over process” threatens to reduce art to a disposable commodity, where authenticity and the very essence of what makes something humanly meaningful are cast aside in favor of artificial perfection. This attitude, if left unchecked, could signal a future where technology replaces craftsmanship, and art becomes a sanitized, interchangeable product rather than a living, breathing reflection of the world.
What is to be done?
While the larger philosophical debate regarding AI-generated artwork is still underway—and likely to remain for a long time—there can still be some solutions for competitions, exhibitions, etc. Anthony Waichulis, one of the jurors for ARC in a separate category from the Witchling, notes that he identified several submissions this year in the Imaginative Realism category, which were then removed. Evidently, Barton’s slipped through the cracks.
Waichulis own views take a moderate stance on the issue: “I do support the use of any technology in creative pursuits—but what I do not support, in any way, is dishonest practices.” He also made the excellent discerning point that we must be careful with our assumptions, lest we falsely accuse an artist. He outlined his own rigorous process for identifying AI submissions:
Identified multiple AI-specific features that aligned with known patterns.
Conducted multiple detector analyses to confirm suspicions using different detectors.
Researched the piece and the artist to gather contextual information.
Consulted additional experienced individuals for further verification.
Presented a well-supported case to the ARC staff for review.
Waichulis then proposed potential steps that can be taken to reduce the chances of this issue occurring in the future:
Establish a Transparent AI-Detection Policy
Educate Judges on AI Art “Tells”
Require One or More High-Resolution Work-in-Progress (WIP) Photos
Mandate a “Verification Shot” of the Artist with the actual Artwork
Require a Brief Written Description of the Creation Process
Perform Reverse Image Searches & AI Detection Tools (When Suspicious)
Waichulis upholds that it’s important for all of us to remember that dishonest, not technology, is the core of all the problems here.
A special thanks to Tristan Elwell and Donato Giancola for their hard work in uncovering the fraud and pointing to these widespread systemic issues. Additional credence towards Anthony Waichulis, who openly listened to Jake Taplin’s criticism and formulated a thoughtful, open response.
