Rankin has spent thousands of hours prompting images into existence, and thousands more wanting to stand in front of a real person again. For La F.AI.M, Rankin's follow-up to FAIK OFF, he answers his critics, Claude included, from a room of pictures he never photographed, printed, enlarged and hung as though they've always existed.
I’ve published this magazine to accompany my second exhibition of work generated with artificial intelligence. A collection of images made by typing words into a machine.
I know that sounds like cheating, but the magazine in your hand would not exist
if my imagination had not willed it here. The images might not be real, but this magazine is. The art is as much in the making of it, in the selection and in the order, as it is in any single picture.
My first AI exhibition, FAIK OFF, took place in London in 2025. Its reception was mixed, and making it was a little like rolling the proverbial dice.
This second show, at A. Galerie in Paris, is a second roll. That risk, and the gallery’s support, means a great deal to me. Arnaud Adida was one of the first gallerists to show my photography. Over the years, he has backed my work, put it in front of collectors and always told me exactly what he thinks. I trust his eye. The images in this exhibition are his choices and his curation, from the wider work I’ve shared with him. He picked from what I had already kept. I gave him far more than he needed and asked him to be ruthless. He was. Hopefully this magazine gives those choices some context.
There is no doubt that these images came from my imagination. I’ve filled a room with pictures I didn’t photograph. But I did conceive them, and bringing them to life takes more than just typing and luck.
Most began as private thoughts: bad jokes, half-memories, visual obsessions and things I wanted to see in real life. Now they’re printed, enlarged and hanging on walls, as though they’ve always existed.
Yes, they borrow the authority of photographs without accepting any of the responsibility. They look convincing because looking convincing is precisely what they were made to do. That doesn’t make them false, it makes them ambiguous. That is also where they get interesting. You don’t need to understand how they were made before deciding how they make you feel.
Some are beautiful, some are ridiculous, a few make me uncomfortable. Those are usually the ones I like the best.
Look first, judge afterwards. Or do both at once.
Finally, some people will call this work a betrayal. Others will think I’ve lost the plot, the nerve, or both. They may be right. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done something people didn’t like.
What would be worse for me is pretending I wasn’t curious. I’m not going to apologise for that. If wanting to see everything in my imagination is a character flaw, then so be it. But I have to try to understand the things that make me uncomfortable and here we are.
So take a look. Don’t trust me or the images. Trust yourself. Be completely honest with yourself about it, and try to see beyond what you presume.
Thank you, Arnaud, for choosing these works, giving them a room and trusting me again, even when the photographs aren’t photographs.
Take one exhibition. Call it consciousness. No prescription needed.
Rankin, London August, 2026.
Writer Rankin
Image Credits 'The Beast and Beauty', Rankin
