Reality Effects

A lesson on the myth of virtual reality from ancient Rome.

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A symmetrical figure in pink, yellow and teal diamonds with a single eye at its centre.
Illustration by Dan Christofferson

Zeuxis and Parrhasius were two of the greatest Greek painters of the 5th century B.C.—at a time when Greece’s primary export was greatness. They decided to have a paint-off. Zeuxis unveiled a painting of grapes so luscious that birds flew down and tried to eat them.

Parrhasius then brought forward his work. But when Zeuxis sought to pull aside the curtain, he found that Parrhasius’ picture was exactly that—a picture of a curtain. Zeuxis exclaimed, “Zeuxis has deceived the birds, but Parrhasius has deceived Zeuxis.”

Zeuxis died from laughter while trying to paint an old, funny-looking patron who had asked him to depict her as Aphrodite.


“Virtual reality”—the phrase sounds retro, glib, and uncomfortable, as if Al Gore were to bust out “Information Superhighway” in a television interview tomorrow. But not so long ago, VR was always just around the corner, and it was going to be great: a completely plausible, artificially generated version of reality. This was supposed to be the absolute apogee of what artistic technique could achieve.