The art world is full of reproductions. Some are plain replicas, for example the Mona Lisa. Others are fakes or forgeries, like the “Vermeers” painted by Han van Meegeren that sold for $60 million (Kreuger and van Meegeren 2010). The distinction between a replica and a fake is based on the concept of authenticity. Is this artefact what it claims to be?1 The answer seems simple but, in reality, things are complicated. Today, the paintings of the forger John Myatt are so famous that they are valued at up to $40,000 each, as “genuine fakes” (Furlong 1986). They are not what they say they are, but they are authentically painted by him and not by another forger. And they are beautiful. A bit as if one were to utter a beautiful lie, not any ordinary lie. And an artist like Magritte seems to have painted not only false Picassos and Renoirs during the Nazi occupation of Belgium (Mariën 1983), but also faked his own work, so to speak, in the famous case of the two copies of the painting “The Flavour of Tears” (1948), both by Magritte, but one of which he passed off as false—partly as a surrealist act and partly to make money. In this mess, and as if things were not confusing enough, digital technologies further reshuffle what is possible and our understanding of it.