When photography emerged in 1839, French academic painter Paul Delaroche reportedly declared, "From today, painting is dead!"
In one sense, Delaroche was right — what died was the careers of those painters who photocopied what they saw.
New painters emerged that captured different realities—Monet sought to convey the aura of light; Picasso played with multiple perspectives; Rothko dissolved forms into color fields of emotion. The market for painting exploded.
Every new technological marvel brings death and loss, yes, but it also invites an explosion of birth.
Entrenched experts are the ones most likely to miss the lesson of history: new tools open the playing field for a new generation of expertise.
When photography emerged in 1839, French academic painter Paul Delaroche reportedly declared, "From today, painting is dead!" In one sense, Delaroche was right — what died was the careers of those painters who photocopied what they saw. New painters emerged that captured different realities—Monet sought to convey the aura of light; Picasso played with multiple perspectives; Rothko dissolved forms into color fields of emotion. The market for painting exploded. Every new technological marvel brings death and loss, yes, but it also invites an explosion of birth. Entrenched experts are the ones most likely to miss the lesson of history: new tools open the playing field for a new generation of expertise.
When photography emerged in 1839, French academic painter Paul Delaroche reportedly declared, "From today, painting is dead!"
In one sense, Delaroche was right — what died was the careers of those painters who photocopied what they saw.
In one sense, Delaroche was right — what died was the careers of those painters who photocopied what they saw.