Behind the Canvas: Ghost Painters, Transparency, and the Ethics of Portrait Commissions

Recently, while discussing a portrait commission with a client, some of their concerns reminded me of something that quietly exists in our industry but is rarely discussed openly: ghost painters — artists who create commissioned paintings for someone else, while the final work is presented under another name.

This topic can feel uncomfortable. It touches on money, reputation, and ethics. But I believe it’s important to talk about it honestly — especially for collectors, clients, and fellow artists who value authenticity.

I’m not writing this to accuse anyone, but to shed light on a system many people don’t realise exists.

What Are “Ghost Painters”?

In simple terms, ghost painters are skilled artists who paint artworks — sometimes partially, sometimes entirely — for another artist who then claims the work as their own.

This practice exists quietly across many countries, but one of the most well-known hubs is China, particularly Dafen Village in Shenzhen. For decades, painters there have produced oil paintings for export: replicas, decorative works, and custom commissions ordered by overseas clients.

Many of these painters are technically excellent. Some can reproduce styles with remarkable accuracy. The issue isn’t skill — it’s authorship and transparency.

Over time, this system has expanded beyond decorative painting into portrait commissions, where artists in places like Singapore or the US may send reference photos and instructions overseas, receive a finished painting, and then present it to clients as their own original work.

Many ghost painters, especially those in large production hubs are highly trained artists themselves. Some have studied for years. Some have strong personal practices that are never seen. Yet their role is often reduced to silent execution. They may complete commissioned portraits without the paying client ever knowing.

This raises uncomfortable questions:

• Who gets authorship?

• Who receives recognition?

• Who benefits from the value created?

When portrait commissions are marketed as deeply personal and emotional works, hiding the labour behind them can feel especially contradictory.

Why This Happens (From a Practical Point of View)

Let’s be honest: commissioned portrait work is time-consuming and physically demanding. As artists become more popular, demand increases, and pressure builds to deliver faster, cheaper, or in higher volume.

To meet high client expectations within limited budgets, ghost painters can appear to be a convenient solution. They offer:

• Lower labour costs

• Faster turnaround times

• The ability to accept more commissions

• Consistent, polished-looking output

From a business perspective, this can be tempting.

A statement like, “As long as it meets my expectations, I don’t care who painted it,” may sound simple but it quickly complicates things from an artistic and ethical standpoint.

The Ethical Problem — and Why It Matters

1. Misrepresentation to Clients

When someone commissions a portrait, they usually believe the named artist is the one actually painting it — not outsourcing it, not merely supervising, not just adding final touches.

If that isn’t true, it becomes a matter of misrepresentation.

Portrait commissions are deeply personal. Clients aren’t just buying an image; they’re trusting an artist’s eye, sensitivity, and interpretation of a person. That trust matters.

2. Invisible Labour and Lack of Recognition

Many ghost painters — especially those in large production hubs, remain anonymous. Their work circulates globally, but their names never appear.

Some are paid fairly; others are not. Many possess strong academic training and genuine artistic voices, yet they are reduced to invisible hands behind someone else’s brand.

This raises an uncomfortable question: If the painting is valued because of their skill, shouldn’t they at least be acknowledged?

3. It Blurs What “Authenticity” Even Means

In portrait art, authenticity isn’t just about visual resemblance. It’s about:

• Personal interpretation

• Decision-making

• Brush rhythm

• Sensitivity to character

• Emotional presence

When these decisions are made by someone else, the work may look competent but it quietly loses integrity.

“But Didn’t Old Masters Do This Too?” — The Rembrandt Question

Rembrandt is often cited in defence of studio production.

Yes, Rembrandt had pupils and assistants. Like many masters of his time, he ran a workshop. Students helped prepare canvases, block in areas, paint backgrounds, and sometimes contribute to less critical passages.

But there are important differences that are often overlooked.

1. Apprenticeship Was Transparent and Expected

In 17th-century Europe, workshops were normal. Patrons understood that commissioning a “Rembrandt” often involved multiple hands.

Art historians today clearly distinguish between:

• By Rembrandt

• Workshop of Rembrandt

• Circle of Rembrandt

• Follower of Rembrandt

That transparency matters.

2. Rembrandt Personally Supervised and Corrected the Work

Historical research shows that Rembrandt often:

• Designed compositions

• Corrected student work

• Repainted key passages

• Applied final glazes

• Approved works before sale

His studio was a teaching environment — not an anonymous outsourcing pipeline.

3. The Work Was Not Secretly Outsourced Across Borders

Rembrandt’s assistants were physically present, trained in his methods, and openly part of his workshop. Patrons knew they were dealing with a master running a studio — not an individual pretending to work alone.

This distinction is crucial.

A Note About China and Why This Is Often Misunderstood

It’s important to say this clearly: Chinese painters are not the problem.

Many are exceptionally skilled, well-trained, and deeply serious about art. The issue isn’t nationality — it’s how global systems sometimes exploit lower-cost labour while hiding its existence.

Some Chinese painters are now rejecting anonymous production models, creating original work under their own names, and building independent careers. That shift deserves recognition and respect.

There is nothing inherently wrong with having help. What matters is whether the client understands:

• Who actually painted the work

• How involved the named artist was

• Whether the work reflects a studio process or an individual hand

If an artist openly says, “This work was produced with the help of my studio team,” that honesty changes everything.

The problem begins when the story presented to clients doesn’t match the reality behind the canvas.

Patterns I’ve Observed as a Practising Portrait Artist

“I can get an oil portrait done very cheaply and very fast.”

“I need my portrait sketch within a few days — can you do it?”

I understand these concerns. I also understand that clients may turn elsewhere even when they like my work. Many don’t realise that portrait painting comes in many forms, simple or complex, it requires full concentration and time.

From observing the industry, certain patterns tend to appear when ghost painting may be involved:

• Frequent posting of finished works with little or no process shown

• Unrealistically fast turnaround times

• Styles that remain oddly uniform across very different subjects or inconsistent within the same subject

• Brushwork that feels generic or overly polished

• Avoidance of live painting or demonstrations

• Communication focused on delivery, not artistic decisions

None of these alone prove anything. But together, they can raise questions.

Conclusion: Integrity in Portraiture

As someone who paints portraits, I believe the value of portrait art lies not only in the final image, but in the presence of the artist behind it — the hours of observing, adjusting, struggling, and responding to a real human subject.

This conversation isn’t about shaming artists or romanticising struggle. It’s about honesty — with clients, with fellow artists, and with ourselves.

Art doesn’t have to be perfect. It has to be honest.

When someone commissions a portrait, they’re not just buying an image — they’re entering into a relationship with the artist behind it. And that relationship deserves to be real.