The Brisbane Portrait Prize has once again found itself at the centre of a heated cultural battle, as artists who previously shunned its embrace of artificial intelligence (AI) return to compete. The controversy, which erupted in 2024 when the prestigious art competition opened its doors to AI-generated entries, has now evolved into a nuanced exploration of creativity, authenticity, and the role of technology in artistic expression. While some critics argue that AI undermines the essence of art, others are redefining the boundaries of the medium by incorporating the very technology they once rejected. At the heart of the debate lies a clash between tradition and innovation, with First Nations artists leading a bold counter-narrative that prioritises ancestral knowledge over algorithmic mimicry.
The AI Controversy at Brisbane Portrait Prize
The Brisbane Portrait Prize (BPP) made global headlines in 2024 when its organisers announced that AI-generated works would be eligible for consideration. The decision came as art institutions worldwide grappled with the rapid advancement of generative AI tools, which had already infiltrated galleries and competitions. For many, the move felt like a betrayal. Former BPP winners, including Wiradjuri artist Birrunga, led a public boycott, likening the inclusion of AI to “allowing drugs in sport.” Birrunga, whose gallery in Queensland champions Indigenous art, dismissed AI creations as mere “decoration, illustration at best,” arguing they lack the cultural depth and historical continuity that defines true art. “It’s a quick fix, instant gratification, fast food mentality,” he stated, warning that such practices risked eroding First Nations cultural intellectual property. The backlash was swift, with artists and photographers decrying the prize’s “tacit green light” for AI as a threat to centuries of artistic tradition.
First Nations Artists Reclaiming the Narrative
This year, however, sees a surprising shift. Five First Nations artists, including Birrunga, have defiantly returned to the BPP, but not without a purpose. Rather than boycotting entirely, they have weaponised AI to challenge its very premise. Their series of self-portraits, titled Ancestral Integrity, pits human creativity against machine-generated imagery. “We’ve still got our integrity,” asserts Gunggari and Kabi Kabi artist Kane Brunjes, whose work alongside Kamilaroi artist Elysia Love-Anderson and others now hangs among the finalists. Love-Anderson, whose piece Reflections seeks to underscore the irreplaceable value of intergenerational knowledge, argues that “AI cannot give a piece what we can.” For her, the difference lies in the lived experience and spiritual lineage embedded in each brushstroke—a quality no algorithm can replicate. The series serves as a powerful rebuttal to critics who see AI as a threat, reframing it instead as a tool to highlight the enduring power of human storytelling.
The Return of Defectors: Real vs. Artificial
Among the returning artists is photographer Glenn Hunt, a former BPP digital prize winner who also led the 2024 boycott. His 2026 entry, a portrait of Dean Clifford—a man living with the rare and severe skin condition epidermolysis bullosa—has sparked renewed debate. The image, starkly realistic, captures Clifford’s weathered features, which many online mistakenly believed were AI-generated due to their unsettling resemblance to a “zombie costume.” “You can’t get more real than he is,” Hunt says, emphasizing that his work exists as a testament to lived experience, not digital artifice. Similarly, Jackie Ryan’s The Catch, a finalist in this year’s competition, uses AI to critique its own role. Her piece juxtaposes a photograph of Australian comedian Alice Fraser with AI-generated figures rendered in feminist iconography, questioning whether human choice—even within an AI-assisted process—remains the true measure of artistic merit.
The Prize Director’s Vision for Regulation
Amid the controversy, BPP director Anna Reynolds remains resolute in her stance that AI must be integrated thoughtfully into the art world. “The argument about yes or no is kind of gone now,” she says, advocating for a framework that prioritises human creativity while acknowledging AI’s potential as a tool. The prize now requires entrants to declare if their work incorporates generative AI and ensures such entries do not infringe copyright—a rule Reynolds hopes will “get a handle” on the technology’s ethical implications. Her vision reflects a broader industry trend: rather than banning AI outright, institutions are seeking to regulate its use, ensuring artists retain control over their creative output. “It’s about control, retaining the human capital, retaining the human creative control,” Reynolds asserts, framing the competition as a space where technology and tradition can coexist.
Why it Matters
The Brisbane Portrait Prize’s AI debate is more than a local squabble—it mirrors a global reckoning with the role of technology in art. As generative AI reshapes creative industries, the BPP’s evolution underscores the tension between innovation and authenticity. For First Nations artists, the stakes are existential: AI’s ability to mimic cultural symbols without context or permission threatens to commodify their heritage. Their resurgence at the prize serves as a clarion call for respectful engagement with technology, one that honours ancestral wisdom rather than diluting it. Meanwhile, the return of boycotters like Hunt and Ryan signals a growing acceptance that AI, like any tool, is neither inherently good nor evil—it depends on how it is wielded. As the lines between human and machine creativity blur, the BPP’s decisions may well set a precedent for how art institutions worldwide navigate this uncharted territory, balancing progress with preservation.
