Rethinking Likeness in Portrait Art

Let me ask you a question: If you were going to commission a portrait painting for yourself, which one of the following would you choose?

1. Photographic accuracy – I want it to be 99% identical to the photo.

2. The artist’s style with high likeness – a balance of skill and personal expression.

3. Strong artistic presentation with average likeness – more interpretive than exact.

4. A beautified version of myself – accuracy secondary, enhancement primary.

5. Highly creative, likeness not important – full freedom to the artist.

Is Photographic Accuracy Wrong?

For those who want 99% photographic accuracy—there’s nothing inherently wrong with that. After all, a portrait should resemble the person. Who would want a painting that looks like someone else?

But here’s the nuance: hyperrealistic copying from a photo is craftsmanship, not necessarily artistry. It requires immense skill, observation, and technique—but little room for personal voice, interpretation, or emotion. It’s similar to factory precision: consistent, exact, but rarely surprising.

And because true photorealistic mastery is challenging, tracing has become the shortcut. Tracing in commissioned portrait painting is controversial because it raises questions about artistic integrity, creativity, and value. Tracing skips foundational drawing skills like proportion, perspective, and observation. A lot of people may think it’s “cheating” because they expect not just accuracy but the artist’s unique touch and effort.

Is that really cheating? It depends on two key factors: first, whether our art education has shaped a narrow view of what makes a “good” portrait; and second, whether the artist possesses genuine skills in observation and replication. Just as a carpenter uses measuring tools to ensure precise dimensions, an artist may also rely on tools to achieve accuracy.

Personally, I believe art is a journey of discovery—built on instinct, observation, mistakes, and breakthroughs. In commissioned portraits, achieving resemblance is essential, but I always strive to infuse creativity and individuality into each piece. Yes, the process can be stressful at times, but the real question is: should the goal be to mimic a machine, or to create something truly artistic and meaningful? I choose the latter.

The Pursuit of Effortless

Tracing reflects more than just a drawing technique—it mirrors how our society has shifted. We live in an era fueled by speed and shortcuts. Meals must be ready in minutes, work is expected before the deadline even begins, and entire dramas are summarized into ten-minute clips. Books become quotes. Experiences become snapshots. Even art, which once celebrated patience and exploration, is now expected to be instant—why wrestle with proportions, measurements, and practice when a tracing app can deliver accuracy in seconds?

The real danger is when we become obsessed only with the end result—how “perfect” or “realistic” a portrait looks—while neglecting the process that gives art its soul. The act of drawing, with its trials, adjustments, and moments of discovery, is where the magic lives. When everything is reduced to a shortcut, the essence of the craft starts to fade, and art risks becoming just another product: polished, predictable, and hollow.

Effortless results may look impressive, but the beauty of art has always been in the journey—one that values both the mistakes and the mastery.

What Does Likeness Really Mean?

Likeness in portraiture is almost magical—sometimes even elusive. A single brushstroke too thick, a highlight shifted by just a few millimeters, and suddenly, the essence of a person appears… or disappears. But here’s the truth: likeness is not solely about accuracy.

Caricature is the best proof of this. Exaggerated jaws, stretched noses, squished eyes—on paper, they are “wrong,” yet we instantly recognize the person. Why? Because likeness is not a photocopy—it’s the recognition of character, spirit, and the subtle cues that make someone uniquely themselves.

The problem arises because many of us grew up with an oversimplified equation: likeness = accuracy. Art education often fails to teach how to read or appreciate expressive, stylized, or conceptual portraits. We are trained to measure likeness by how closely a painting matches a photograph, rather than how powerfully it communicates a presence.

This mindset fuels the obsession with hyperrealism. Hyperrealism is often marketed as the highest form of artistic mastery: “If it looks like a photo, it must be great.” But here’s the irony—hyperrealism, when stripped of creativity, eventually reaches a dead end. If the only goal is to match a photo pixel for pixel, where does the artist’s voice live? Where is the interpretation, the mood, the story that painting can reveal and photography cannot?

Don’t get me wrong—copying a portrait demands exceptional observation and skill, and I respect anyone who strives to master it. But a portrait that interprets, rather than merely replicates, is also a true work of art, even if it’s not 100% photographically accurate. It captures more than just the eyes and mouth; it reveals the unspoken, the fleeting, the unseen. That is where true likeness often resides—in the delicate balance of observation and imagination, discipline and daring.

A Broader Way of Seeing

Portraiture has always been a classic and deeply traditional art form, but its true power lies far beyond simply matching a photograph. A portrait is not meant to be a mirror. When artists are encouraged only to copy, portraiture risks becoming stagnant, reduced to a technical exercise rather than a meaningful creation.

A broader way of seeing opens new doors. It allows the artist to interpret, enhance, and even reimagine a person—capturing not just their outward appearance but also how they are seen, remembered, and felt by others. It reflects personality, mood, and the intangible essence that a camera often misses.

Many great portrait artists have found their own ways to deliver works that feel alive—pieces that look more artistic and beautiful than any photograph could ever achieve. By embracing this broader vision, both artists and collectors can move away from the pressure of photographic perfection and instead celebrate portraits that carry individuality, creativity, and heart.

In the end, a portrait artwork should go beyond its photographic quality.