When Similarity No Longer Seems Like Coincidence
When does a similarity become plagiarism in art? The question sounds simpler than it actually is. Art does not emerge in a vacuum. Artists draw on a shared cultural and visual vocabulary, ideas recur, motifs resemble one another, and different people can independently arrive at comparable visual solutions. That is precisely why accusations of plagiarism should be approached with caution.
For some time now, I have been examining a specific case involving two of my own works. Throughout this process, I have deliberately tried to question my own assessment again and again. Not with the aim of confirming my original suspicion, but by asking the opposite question: What plausible explanation could there be for these similarities if no appropriation had taken place?
The longer I have considered the case and the more factors I have taken into account, the more difficult I find it to arrive at such an explanation. The crucial point is that this is not simply about a striking similarity between two individual images. It concerns two of my works and two later works by the same other artist. That fact significantly changes the way I assess the situation.
The Starting Point: Two of My Works and Two Later Works
At the centre of the case are two of my works, each of which was created and publicly documented before the later works I subsequently discovered. In one of these cases, several years separate my work from the later work.
My works were not created in isolation and subsequently stored away in a studio. They form part of my publicly visible body of work. They have been exhibited, photographed, encountered in public space and circulated through digital channels.
One of the motifs in particular has been photographed and published many times. This is relevant when considering possible plagiarism because, alongside the similarities between two works, another question matters: whether the earlier work could reasonably have been accessible. Public visibility does not, of course, prove that any particular person actually saw a particular image. But it does affect the plausibility of that possibility.
When I first encountered the first of the later works, my initial reaction was one of irritation. It was not simply the same subject, a comparable atmosphere or the use of a familiar symbol. What seemed familiar to me were specific visual decisions: the manner of representation, the relationship between particular elements within the image and the underlying visual concept.
From my own work.
Similarity Alone Does Not Constitute Plagiarism
This distinction is essential. If two artists depict a girl, that is not plagiarism. If two artists portray a person with the same everyday object, that is not plagiarism either. Nor can anyone claim exclusive ownership over broad social or political themes. Love, war, consumption, vulnerability, resistance and hope are universal subjects in art.
When considering possible plagiarism in art, the decisive question is therefore not simply what is depicted. The more interesting question is how an idea has been translated into visual form.
What kind of figure has been chosen? What is the posture? How are individual elements positioned? Which objects have been combined? What relationships exist between them? Which unusual visual decisions appear together? Which elements have been altered in the later work, and which have remained?
The more generic an individual element is, the less evidential significance it has. The situation becomes more interesting when several specific choices occur together. The relevant question is no longer whether individual elements have appeared somewhere before, but how likely it is that the same or a comparable combination of individual creative decisions arose independently.
The Second Work Changes the Assessment
Had there been only one comparison, I might have permanently filed the matter under “remarkable similarity”. Unusual coincidences can happen. Even several similarities within a single work could theoretically result from shared sources of inspiration, a common visual language or coincidence.
Then I encountered a second work by the same artist.
And once again, I recognised significant elements of another work of my own.
For my personal assessment, this is one of the most important aspects of the entire case. We are no longer simply comparing two images. We are looking at two earlier works by one artist and two later works by another.
A possible coincidence does not become proof simply because it happens twice. But the probability of repeated independent coincidence has to be reconsidered.
The alternative hypothesis would now have to explain why the same artist independently arrived at a strikingly similar visual solution to one of my works and why a comparable situation subsequently occurred with a second one of my works. That is possible. But “possible” and “equally probable” are not the same thing.
It is at this point that, for me, the question of a pattern begins to emerge.
The Chronology
Chronology plays an important role when assessing possible appropriation. Both of my works had already been publicly documented before the later works I discovered were created or appeared publicly.
Again, this does not in itself prove appropriation. An earlier work does not automatically establish that a later work was derived from it.
Chronology does, however, clarify another important point. To the extent that the documentation establishes the sequence reliably, influence cannot have occurred in both directions. A later work cannot have influenced the design of a work that had already been documented before it existed.
The central question therefore remains: Are these independent developments, or did the pre-existing work play some role in the creation of the later one?
Public Visibility, Circulation and Access to an Artwork
Another factor is the accessibility of the original works. The more obscure and inaccessible a work is, the more plausible it may be to assume that another artist never encountered it. A work shown once in a private studio with no publicly accessible image is different in this respect from a work that has been publicly visible, photographed and digitally circulated over a period of years.
Street art has a particular characteristic in this regard. The physical artwork may have disappeared long ago while its digital existence continues. Photographs are published, stored and redistributed by artists, photographers, street art accounts, visitors and other users. A temporary work in public space can therefore acquire a digital lifespan and reach far beyond that of the physical original.
Even extensive circulation does not prove that a particular person saw a particular work. It does, however, affect the likelihood that contact with the work was possible.
The Size of the Street Art Scene as Another Factor
The cultural environment is also relevant to my assessment. Street art and urban art are international, yet artists, galleries, collectors, photographers and specialised accounts operate within a relatively interconnected visual ecosystem. Works are photographed, shared, collected and circulated across national borders.
This expressly does not mean that every street artist knows the work of every other street artist. Such a claim would be unreasonable.
Nevertheless, the environment matters when considering probability. There is a difference between two people with no apparent cultural or visual overlap independently arriving at similar results and two artists operating within the same specialised field whose works circulate through comparable channels.
Again, this is not proof. It is another variable.
The Changes Can Be as Interesting as the Similarities
When possible plagiarism is discussed, attention often focuses on identical elements. I have become equally interested in the changes. A possible appropriation does not have to be an exact copy.
The gender, clothing or appearance of a figure can be altered. Colours can change. Individual objects can disappear or be added. A visual concept can be translated into another technique. Proportions can change while a characteristic underlying configuration remains recognisable.
The relevant question is therefore not whether the works being compared are identical. They are not.
The more interesting question is which elements remain despite the changes and whether those surviving elements carry an individual visual concept. In the two pairs of works I have been examining, this is particularly significant to my assessment.
How Likely Is Coincidence?
I have tried to approach this question with as little emotion as possible. I cannot, of course, be entirely objective. These are my own works. Precisely for that reason, I believe it is necessary to reassess my conclusions regularly and actively look for arguments that contradict my suspicion.
With a single comparison, I would accept a substantial degree of uncertainty despite significant similarities. The second comparison changes that assessment.
Several factors now converge: two different works by the same original artist, two later works by the same other artist, the chronology, the public accessibility of the original works, their circulation, activity within the same broader artistic field and the combination of notable visual similarities.
None of these factors individually proves appropriation. Nor does their combination replace legal evidence.
But probability does not operate on the principle that everything theoretically possible must therefore be equally likely.
Based on the information currently available to me, I consider the completely independent creation of both sets of similarities significantly less plausible than the existence of some connection between the works.
That is my personal assessment based on the information known to me. It is not a judicial finding and is not intended to anticipate one.
What Does “Plagiarism” Actually Mean?
The term plagiarism is often used as though it were a single, clearly defined legal category. In reality, moral, art-historical and copyright considerations should be distinguished from one another.
Something may be artistically or ethically questionable without necessarily constituting copyright infringement. Conversely, the appropriation of protected creative elements can raise legal questions even where the later work has been altered in comparison with its possible source.
When I refer here to a suspicion of plagiarism, I am therefore primarily referring to a fundamental question of authorship: Has another person’s individual creative contribution been appropriated and subsequently presented as part of someone else’s artistic work?
Whether this gives rise to legal claims in a particular case is a separate question. Such an assessment does not belong in a blog article and is expressly not being made here.
Inspiration, Appropriation and Copying
Art history would be difficult to imagine without appropriation. Artists quote other artists, reinterpret familiar works, draw on historical motifs, adopt symbols and place them in new contexts. Pop Art would be almost inconceivable without such mechanisms. The same applies to street art.
The decisive boundary is therefore not simply between being “influenced” and “uninfluenced”. Almost every artist is influenced.
What matters is independent transformation.
An artist does not have to invent every idea. The question is whether existing influences are developed into something independently creative or whether another artist’s specific visual solution becomes essential source material for the new work.
Appropriation Art also works with existing material. In that context, recognisable appropriation and the shift in meaning or context may themselves form part of the artistic statement. An undisclosed appropriation raises a different question: that of claimed authorship.
The Responsibility of the Artist
For me, the primary responsibility lies with the artist. Anyone who publishes, exhibits and particularly sells a work under their own name or pseudonym implicitly claims some form of authorship.
A buyer should generally be able to expect that a work offered as the work of a particular artist represents that artist’s own creative contribution, unless the use of sources, quotations, collaborations or appropriations is made transparent.
This expectation is particularly important in the art market. What is being sold is not simply canvas, paper, paint and labour. The economic value of an artwork also derives from authorship, ideas, biography, recognisability and the artist’s creative development.
The question of creative authorship is therefore not peripheral. It touches the very substance of what the art market trades.
What Responsibility Do Galleries and the Art Market Have?
This is where, for me, the discussion extends beyond the specific case. Can or should a gallery investigate whether every work it exhibits bears similarities to any of the millions of artworks already in existence?
Of course not.
A comprehensive global plagiarism check would be neither realistic nor reasonable.
But that does not necessarily mean that galleries have no responsibility whatsoever for the origin and authorship of the works they exhibit or sell.
In the traditional sense, a gallery is more than a room in which pictures happen to hang. It selects artists, introduces them to an audience, communicates their artistic position, facilitates sales and, in doing so, creates trust. That trust is a fundamental part of its role within the art market.
The relevant question is therefore not whether galleries should proactively investigate every artwork in existence.
The more important question is: At what point do specific doubts arise that a professional participant in the art market should reasonably examine?
Once credible and comprehensible concerns regarding the authorship of a work exist, the question of responsibility changes.
Responsibility Towards Buyers
This issue does not concern only the artist whose work may have been appropriated. It also concerns buyers.
People often acquire an artwork precisely because it is attributed to a particular artist. Authorship is part of what is being offered and frequently an important component of its value.
What does it mean for a purchase if significant creative elements may derive from another artist’s work? What could that mean for provenance, future value and trust? And what information should a buyer reasonably expect from a professional seller?
These are not merely academic questions. The art market depends to an unusual degree on trust. Authenticity, provenance and authorship are among its foundations.
Responsibility Towards Other Artists
In my view, the art market also carries a responsibility towards artists. An individual visual language is often developed over many years. Artists invest time, money and work in developing it and establishing its public recognition. Recognisability can become an important part of both the artistic and economic value of a body of work.
If characteristic creative contributions were to be appropriated and subsequently commercially exploited by others, the issue would therefore extend beyond an abstract principle. It would directly affect the work and economic position of the original creator.
A functioning art market depends on the principle that authorship has value.
Street Art, Anonymity and Commercial Responsibility
Street art introduces an additional tension. Many artists work anonymously or under pseudonyms. Works appear in public space, sometimes without permission. At the same time, those artistic positions may later become commercialised. Works enter galleries, art fairs and private collections.
An anonymous intervention in public space can become a commercially traded artwork.
At this intersection, an interesting question arises: Can the art market use the authenticity, biography and story of an anonymous artist to create economic value while simultaneously claiming that it need know nothing about that artist’s identity, working methods or the origins of their work?
Anonymity towards the public and accountability within a professional business relationship are not necessarily the same thing.
Why I Am Not Publishing Certain Information
I have examined this case extensively and documented information, publications and timelines. I will not make all of that material publicly available.
A public discussion about plagiarism in art and the potential legal assessment of a specific case are two different things.
Evidence, specific research methods, connections that are not generally known, potentially involved individuals or businesses and legal considerations therefore do not belong in this article.
For the same reason, I am deliberately not identifying the artist concerned.
I have no intention of conducting a legal dispute through my website or publicly passing judgement on an individual. What interests me here are the broader questions that this particular case has brought into focus.
Why I Am Writing About It Anyway
A case like this could be handled entirely behind closed doors. That might be the simplest approach. But examining it has raised questions for me that extend far beyond two of my own artworks.
How much similarity are we willing to accept as coincidence? At what point do we recognise a pattern? Where does inspiration end and copying begin? What responsibility does an artist have for the origins of their own visual language? What responsibility does the art market assume once art becomes a commercial product? What should collectors be entitled to expect? How should galleries respond when specific doubts arise? And what practical protection does an artist have in an age in which their work can become internationally visible and reproducible within seconds?
Some of these questions concern copyright law. Others concern professional standards, ethics and responsibility.
My Own Assessment Must Remain Open to Scrutiny
One point is particularly important to me: I do not want to collect only the arguments that support my original suspicion.
Once someone becomes convinced that they have discovered plagiarism, there is a risk that every subsequent detail will be interpreted as confirmation of that assumption. For that reason, I deliberately try to formulate the alternative hypothesis.
What would have to be true for both cases to have arisen independently?
That possibility exists.
Absolute certainty cannot be derived from comparing images. Probability, however, is not the same thing as certainty. It is possible to acknowledge uncertainty while still concluding that different explanations are not equally plausible.
For my assessment, the decisive factor is therefore not any single supposedly spectacular similarity, but the combination of circumstances: chronology, accessibility, circulation, cultural environment, specific visual similarities and, most importantly, the occurrence of a second comparable case involving the same two artistic positions.
Based on what I currently know, I therefore consider the hypothesis of two entirely independent coincidences significantly less plausible than the existence of a connection between the works.
I do not want to draw any further public conclusions from that.
But I do not want to say less either.
Ultimately, This Is About Authorship
Art lives through exchange. It lives through influences, quotations, memories, repetition and contradiction. Nobody creates entirely independently of everything that came before.
That is precisely why individual transformation matters.
An artist does not have to invent every idea. But they should create something of their own from it.
Where inspiration ends and plagiarism begins cannot be determined by a simple mathematical formula. With a single work, that boundary can be debated at length.
But when several works by the same artist show striking parallels to several earlier works by the same other artist, the nature of the question changes.
At some point, it is no longer simply about how similar two images look.
It becomes a question of whether a pattern can be recognised.
And once that question arises, the issue no longer concerns only two artists. It concerns galleries, dealers, collectors and ultimately an art market whose economic value depends substantially on one simple assumption:
That where an artist’s name appears, their own creative contribution begins.