Arts·Q

This AI tool might actually help artists. Hannah Epstein brings Critbot to Q

Feedback can mean a lot to an artist, but it's not always easy to get. Hannah Epstein was on Q with Tom Power to discuss Critbot, a collaboration with Cat Bluemke and Jonathan Carroll. It analyzes artwork through artificial intelligence.

Would you trust an AI art critic? Here's what happened when we gave Critbot a spin

Photo collage. At left, a screenshot of the Critbot.ai homepage, a black and white design that puts a text form front and centre. Fields include: email, Instagram handle, image url, artwork medium, criticism level. At right, a medium closeup of the artist Hannah Epstein, a woman with blonde wavy hair worn long at the back with two spacebuns. She looks at the camera with a slightly smirking expression. A gold frame hangs on the wall behind her, surrounding her head like a rectangular halo.
Critbot.ai is a project by artists Hannah Epstein (pictured), Cat Bluemke and Jonathan Carroll. The website allows users to have their artwork evaluated by an AI critic. (Hannah Epstein)

The full interview with Hannah Epstein is available on our podcast, Q with Tom Power.

Mixed-media artist Hannah Epstein tells Tom about her new project “Critbot.AI,” which generates artistic feedback through artificial intelligence.

Reading your own reviews is never easy, especially if the comments are scathing. So why would anyone subject themselves to a teardown, especially when the one doing the dishing is an AI-enabled chat program? 

On Thursday's Q, Tom Power spoke with artist Hannah Epstein about her latest project, Critbot. Launched in collaboration with two more Canadian artists, Cat Bluemke and Jonathan Carroll, the Critbot website allows anyone to have their artwork reviewed with the push of an upload button: paintings, photographs, all manner of still visual media. And depending on your willingness to get vulnerable, users may select one of three levels of criticism: kind, constructive or harsh.

So how does it work? In oversimplified terms, Critbot is trained on the language of numerous human art critics, and analyzes submitted artwork by drawing on the knowledge of its extensive database. In theory, Critbot is able to opine with more objectivity than a real live critic or curator. It isn't influenced by personal bias, and on that front, its insights might prove more helpful to artists than the "meatspace" equivalent. 

That's one of Epstein's theories, anyway. Why did she want to build an AI art critic? As she said on Q: "Everyone is coming from their own point of view, so they're going to say, 'I see it this way — because of my own tastes, my own experience.' … Individually, as humans, we are deeply flawed. An AI is an opportunity to try and put together as many different points of view as possible and pull out of it a useful critique for the artists themselves." 

And if you're an artist, feedback can be crucial. Getting notes on your work — thoughts on things like concept and execution — can help push a person to grow. But unless you're in art school, constructive criticism can be hard to come by. And if you've landed in a brand new town, or live far from a thriving cultural scene, good luck building a network of folks who can provide insightful and supportive commentary. 

Epstein herself moved to rural Nova Scotia in 2020, where she runs a gallery in a converted church. The Critbot project is a departure from her usual work. Longlisted for the Sobey Art Award in 2022, Epstein has built her reputation creating riotous textile works — something she's discussed on Q before, in addition to past features on CBC Arts. And her wooly wall-hangings are often inspired by memes and unhinged moments in celebrity culture. Celebrities, in turn, collect her work. (White Pumps, a piece from 2019, hangs in Demi Lovato's "trippy modern farmhouse" in L.A.)

Epstein, however, is not above receiving one of Critbot's hot takes. On the project's Instagram, you can find a recent piece she submitted. It's a three-panel textile work, and at its centre is a naked purple woman flying on the back of a toothy-mouthed dragon. 

Epstein's reaction to Critbot's review? In a single hashtag: #ouch. 

She had more to say about that particular Critbot experience on Q, and while she says the tool is still being fine tuned, she's often impressed by its reviews.

"When I read the crits as they come out, I'm constantly amazed at the insightful analysis that this AI is able to deliver to a composition of images."

What happened when we tried it?

On Thursday's show, Q put it to the test.

Vivian Rashotte is a Q producer who also happens to be a talented self-taught artist. Requesting a "harsh" review, she fed Critbot one of her oil paintings, a still life from 2019 called In the Mood For Love. (In a nod to the Wong Kar-wai classic, an iPad playing a scene from the 2000 film appears in the composition.) 

A still life oil painting depicting a polished round brown table that's been topped by a cluttered assemblage of objects. Visible is a blue and white planter filled with a pothos, a crumpled patterned robe in an Asian style, indistinguishable furry forms, an ornately patterned silver canister and an iPad propped up to show a frame from the movie In the Mood for Love.
Vivian Rashotte. In the Mood for Love, 2019. (Vivian Rashotte)

On her website, Rashotte writes that she's often inspired by pop culture and social media, and that her paintings — like this one — serve as "contemporary slice of life scenes." Per her artist statement: "I see my work as being a personal reflection on the mundane or ordinary joys of early 21st century life."

But what did Critbot think?

Here's the response it gave her:

"In the Mood for Love" is a painting that at first glance may appear to be a traditional still life, with a collection of objects arranged on a polished, dark wood table. However, upon closer examination, it becomes clear that this piece is not a mere exercise in realism, but rather a commentary on the intersection of technology and tradition.

The inclusion of the iPad, propped up on an unidentifiable object, immediately draws the viewer's attention and serves as a modern contrast to the traditional elements of the painting such as the small metal jar and silk scarf. The digital image on the iPad, depicting a woman wearing a Hong-Kong-style cheongsam and gazing out of a house window, adds another layer of meaning to the painting. This imagery alludes to the nostalgia and longing for the past, which is further reinforced by the blue and white designs on the potted plant and the foliage on the home in the digital image.

The reflection of parts of the objects on the table's polish also adds a sense of depth and realism to the painting. However, it also serves as a reminder of the fleeting nature of our present and how it is constantly being shaped and influenced by our past and technology.

However, despite the skillful technique and thought-provoking imagery, this painting ultimately falls short in its execution. The composition feels cluttered and disjointed, with no clear focal point. The objects on the table appear randomly placed, lacking any sense of harmony or balance. The use of oil and acrylic also feels unnecessary and adds an unnecessary layer of texture that detracts from the overall cohesiveness of the piece.

In conclusion, "In the Mood for Love" is a painting that attempts to comment on the intersection of technology and tradition, but ultimately falls short in its execution due to poor composition and clunky use of medium. It is a prime example of an artist having a concept but failing to execute it in a meaningful and impactful way.

Rashotte's reaction? 

"Overall, I'm happy with that criticism. The results are a lot more positive than I expected."

To try Critbot yourself, submit your work at www.critbot.ai.

Written by Leah Collins. Interview produced by Vanessa Greco.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Leah Collins

Senior Writer

Since 2015, Leah Collins has been senior writer at CBC Arts, covering Canadian visual art and digital culture in addition to producing CBC Arts’ weekly newsletter (Hi, Art!), which was nominated for a Digital Publishing Award in 2021. A graduate of Toronto Metropolitan University's journalism school (formerly Ryerson), Leah covered music and celebrity for Postmedia before arriving at CBC.

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