The Problem with Perfect: How AI Is Changing Photography Expectations
The Perfection Trap: Rediscovering the Truth in Photography
I’ll start with a confession: I’ve been guilty of being a perfectionist.
I’ve fixed things in post-production that probably didn’t need fixing. I’ve softened, polished, tweaked, and enhanced—sometimes beyond what was truly necessary. In many ways, I’m probably partially to blame for the expectations some clients now carry into their sessions.
But the truth is, the pursuit of post-production perfection has gotten out of control.
Not because photographers suddenly care more—but because of what’s now possible. With tools like Photoshop, AI, and endless editing apps, we’ve entered an era where “real” is negotiable. Where anything can be changed. And the more we’re able to fix, the more we’re expected to fix.
And let’s be honest—how people view their images has changed too.
With phones that allow clients to zoom in at ridiculous magnification, every tiny hair, line, or background element suddenly feels like it matters. Details that would never be noticed in a printed image now appear massive and urgent when viewed at 300% on a retina screen.
It’s no wonder expectations feel so heightened.
So I’ve made a decision: I’m dialing it back.
Because something is getting lost in the chase for flawless images. And I think it’s time we talk about it.
We’ve all been there.
The client who wants the glare removed from a window. The one who dislikes her smile in an otherwise perfect moment. The one who says “edit the heck out of me,” only to ask you to dial it all back. The one who wants to know why her front door doesn’t look exactly like it does in real life.
And let me be honest—I’ve found myself falling into the trap too. I want my clients to feel beautiful. I want to give them work that moves them. But somewhere along the way, our collective idea of what makes a photograph good has been quietly hijacked by the pursuit of perfection.
We’re no longer just adjusting lighting and color balance. We’re rebuilding architecture in AI because a door panel was hidden by glare. We’re reshaping faces, re-sculpting skies, even reimagining moments altogether. We’ve gone from enhancing reality… to replacing it.
The Rising Tide of Expectation
Technology has made extraordinary things possible in photography—but it’s also raised the bar in ways that often feel unsustainable. Clients, trained by years of Instagram filters, Facetune, and hyper-edited imagery, come to us with expectations that are sometimes impossible to manage. The standard image isn’t a version of the moment—it’s the idealized version, stripped of its flaws, softened beyond recognition.
And the problem? That expectation isn’t always spoken. It’s felt. It shows up in the repeated revision requests, the hesitation when a client sees themselves unfiltered, the “can you just...” emails that start piling up after the gallery is delivered.
As photographers, we’re left walking a tightrope: between art and service, authenticity and polish, honoring what was… and adjusting it into what someone wishes it had been.
The Danger of the Disappearing Moment
But here’s the deeper loss—and the reason this matters more than just extra editing hours or strained client communication.
When we over-edit an image, we risk erasing the soul of it.
The wind-blown hair that marked the wild joy of that afternoon.
The squinty smile that came from real laughter, not a practiced pose.
The glare that, yes, obscured a detail—but also reminds us of where we stood in that moment, what the light felt like, how time really looked.
Perfection removes context. It removes texture.
And eventually, it removes truth.
Reclaiming the Role of the Photographer
We need to take the narrative back.
Photography is not—and has never been—about flawlessness.
It is about memory. About presence. About the moment that was, not the one we wish had happened.
That doesn’t mean we stop editing. Or that we ignore client concerns.
It means we educate. We hold space for truth. We guide.
It means having the courage to say:
“This is you. This is your family. This is now. And it’s already beautiful.”
And it means having boundaries—knowing when a revision request goes beyond refinement and into the realm of distortion. Knowing when to lovingly, professionally say, this is enough.
What We Can Do Moving Forward
If you're feeling the pressure of modern perfection culture, you're not alone. But we can shift the conversation—one client, one gallery, one honest photo at a time.
Here are a few ways to start:
Set expectations early. Talk about your editing style and philosophy before the shoot. Show examples of what your “finished” work looks like so clients understand what they’re getting.
Embrace storytelling in your marketing. Talk about capturing emotion, connection, and real life. The more we frame imperfection as beauty, the more clients will come to value it.
Build boundaries into your process. Include a clear limit on revision rounds. And when you make an exception, name it—so it doesn’t become an expectation.
Speak up in the industry. Share your perspective. Encourage other photographers to do the same. The more we normalize imperfection, the more we protect the art of what we do.
In the end, perfection isn’t the goal. Presence is.
As photographers, we are witnesses, not illusionists. Our job is to hold up a mirror to the moment—not to polish it until it disappears.
And I’ll admit—just writing this, I feel a little like a fraud.
I recently edited an image of a high school senior standing in front of the Eiffel Tower—and removed every single person from the background. Not because she asked me to. But because in my artist’s eye, I saw the final image differently. I envisioned a clean, cinematic frame that honored her moment—not the chaos around it. That edit wasn’t about perfection. It was about artistic intention.
And maybe that’s the line we all have to find for ourselves:
The difference between making art… and documenting life.
Between honoring a vision… and erasing reality.
Both have a place.
But we owe it to ourselves—and our clients—to know the difference.
Because when we do, we create images that are not just beautiful, but honest.
Not just flawless, but true.
With light & Love (and a little reflection),
Alicia