What Photographs Will We Prefer In The Future?

Honey bee about to enjoy some pollen. Note:  Only one of the images included in this post was
made using a camera.  The rest were artificially generated based upon my written instructions. 
Which one is it?  The answer is at the end of this blog.  (click to enlarge)

Over the past few years, I’ve found myself thinking more and more about where the future of photography lies—not just technologically, but also artistically and philosophically.  Some of my thoughts make me feel a little uneasy.

We are clearly entering (really have already entered) a time when AI, both in-camera and in software, can make everything look perfect or at least it will make everything look as perfect as the software algorithms think they should.   Not only will software allow you to make one of your images perfect, but it can already create, from only your description, ‘perfect’ images.  Already most of us make perfect exposures (or close enough to perfect).  Digital noise can be made to disappear.  Skin smoothing is a matter of invoking the feature in your camera.  Skies can be replaced.   Inky shadows can be opened to show nicely rendered detail.  Loss of highlight detail is no longer a real concern.  And if something doesn’t quite work, the camera—or the software afterward—will simply “fix” it for us.  Or, as I said, even “create it” for us.

The very best lenses are already getting very close to technical perfection.  Sharpness from corner to corner.  No visible distortion.  No chromatic aberrations.  No vignetting.  No character flaws.  Every aspect of the image rendered cleanly and crisply.  From a purely engineering standpoint, it’s impressive.  From a photographic standpoint, I’m not convinced it’s entirely a good thing because perfection comes at a cost.

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As cameras, lenses and software continue down this path, I think we’re going to reach a tipping point—if we haven’t already—where we’ll all become suspicious of photographs that look too good.  To perfect.  Artificial.  I already have.  Not suspicious of the photographer’s intentions necessarily, but suspicious of images themselves.   I’ll look at a striking photo and think, is that real—or worse, assume it is probably AI-assisted?  I think that way regularly.  

I find this doubt creeping into more and more of my photographic perusing.  It's troubling for me.  I don't want to have to consider real or AI manipulated when I look at a really emotion evoking photograph.  I want to think that the photographer captured something special.

This doubt is really unfair to photographers who genuinely worked hard to make a strong image using skill, patience, and experience.  Unfortunately, I don’t see that suspicion lessening.   I see it getting more frequent.

Cameras will soon be able to do almost anything, anytime.  Low light will no longer be a challenge.   Recording extreme dynamic range will be routine.  Fast-moving subjects will be effortlessly tracked and isolated.  Computational photography will allow us to capture things we simply cannot capture today—or at least things we shouldn’t be able to capture so easily.  In some cases with some cameras, we’re pretty much already there.  But that isn’t what troubles me.  That brings me to my second point.

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On paper, this all sounds wonderful.  In many ways, it is.  But there’s an unintended side effect to all of this technological brilliance: photographs are starting to look sterile.  Clean.  Polished.   Perfect—and perfection, paradoxically, can be boring—especially when almost every image you see looks perfect.  When every image you see looks out of the ordinary, you start to get jaded.  You start to lose that awe and wonder of finding those few and far in between great images.  You start to lose the admiration for the photographer.

When everything is sharp in every image, nothing feels sharp.  When everything is smooth, nothing feels tactile.  When everything is corrected, nothing feels honest.   Photography begins to lose the small imperfections that quietly remind us a human being was involved in the process.

I already find myself being suspicious of images I see that look too good to be true.   And I don’t like that feeling.  It’s not something I want to bring with me when I look at photographs.  I want to feel curiosity, emotion, connection—not skepticism.  But that skepticism is becoming almost unavoidable, and it will only increase as technology continues to advance and permeate throughout the photographic process.

(click to enlarge)

This leads me to a prediction—one I feel fairly confident about.   I believe we’re heading toward a reversal in what we admire in photographs.   In the future, I think we will begin to value images that are less than perfect.  Images that aren’t razor sharp.  Images that don’t resolve every pore and blade of grass.  Images that feel more natural, more restrained, more believable.  I think that is already manifesting itself in the resurgence of film-based photography.  Less than perfect becomes more desirable.  

I think we will admire photographs that look organic.   Photographs with character.  Photographs that show a photographer made decisions—and lived with them—rather than letting an algorithm smooth everything into submission.

In much the same way that vinyl records regained popularity in a world of flawless digital audio, or mechanical watches remained desirable in the age of quartz accuracy, photography will swing back toward imperfection.   Toward feel.  Toward intention.  Toward restraint.   Interestingly, this mirrors what I’ve been experiencing personally in my own photography.

I now find myself dialing back clarity, texture and sharpness in many of my images.  My tools are so good these days that I’ve started thinking my own photographs are losing their appeal—to me.  They look too clinical in many cases.  Too sharp.  To detailed.  Where is that natural, organic look that I enjoyed for decades?  Can I bring it back?  I don’t know.

(click to enlarge)

As I have written in earlier posts, simplifying my gear, limiting my choices, and releasing myself from constant pressure has brought joy back into my photographic life.  That same philosophy applies here.   When we stop chasing perfection, we give ourselves permission to see more clearly, to feel more deeply, and to photograph more honestly.

I don’t believe the future of meaningful photography lies in making images that look better than reality.   I think it lies in making images that feel true—to the moment, to the photographer, and to the viewer.  Technical perfection is easy to admire for a moment.  Character is what holds our attention.  I suspect that, sooner than later, we’ll all start to realize that again.

You may disagree and that is certainly okay.  I write from the perspective of a person who has lived through this tremendous transition from manual everything cameras with manual focus using prime lenses to the latest and greatest digital tools.  Your perspective may differ.  Sometimes more technology isn’t better.   Sometimes technology starts to eradicate the essence of ‘the thing.’

At the end of the day, I do believe we’ll trust and enjoy those photographs that are less than perfect...until AI and software start creating strategic flaws in those photographs to also make them look less than perfect. So there’s that, unfortunately.

There is only one image in this post that was made with a camera.  The rest were generated by Nano Banana 2.  Which is it?  Can you tell?  Look once again before reading the next paragraph.

So...which image is the one I made being actually out in the field with my camera and lens?   It is the vineyard.   All of the rest of these were created by Google's Nano Banana Version 2 from a short paragraph I typed describing what I wanted the program to create.  Scary, isn't it?

Join me over at my website, https://www.dennismook.com.

Thanks for looking. Enjoy!

Dennis A. Mook

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