Thoughts on AI and image processing
Interstitial, October 2025
The relatively recent widespread use of heavy-handed editing techniques, made easier with tools like Photoshop and artificial intelligence (often both), has led to numerous debates within photography circles as to their ethics, or lack thereof. I certainly get the push back and controversy. On one hand, you have the “no limitations” mindset espoused by artists and many consumers of art. On the flip side, many agree that AI is not truly “creative” since it represents statistical amalgamation. Where are creators supposed to draw the line (assuming a line should even exist)? A lot of photographers struggle with this controversy, and it’s still something I consider often.
I believe true creativity is a manifestation of authenticity and honesty. And, after spending so much time outside, living and experiencing wilderness while making photographs, it does strike me as a little absurd just how much “fame and fortune” seems to fall into the laps of digital deceivers who claim their images are made with real cameras in real, often majestic, places. Ultimately, of course, they spend their precious moments behind computer screens while photographers have the privilege of living meaningful experiences. Let them eat algorithms.
I’m convinced the photographic process doesn’t stop when the self timer counts down. In fact, I believe the shutter is actually the birth of the image, and it can develop and grow in infinite ways, or go in myriad creative directions, all depending on the photographer’s propensity for nurturing it.
In my opinion, using AI to further the message of a photograph is itself a fine thing to do. Ultimately, it’s just one more “tool in the tool bag” available to us. In truth, it can get the photographer to Point B much faster than traditional digital processing tools, such as spot-removal or cloning. That said, I personally don’t mess with AI unless it’s the very best option to remove small objects from an image.
As a last resort, for example, I’ve used it to take out a weird-looking dead leaf floating on the surface of a pond. My eye kept jumping to it instead of all the other stuff I wanted to emphasize, so I zapped it. Even though it was very small and didn’t impact the overall design of the image, its presence was a distraction to me.
Another time, a bright, dried-out branch off to the side of my focal point was removed in order to keep the viewers eye from drifting out of the frame. And another time, I recall utilizing AI spot removal to sort out a stubborn sky highlight poking through the canopy. The highlight happened to look very unnatural to my eye. (“How the hell is it that much brighter than all the other highlights?”)
On those evenings, I slept just fine. I didn’t feel I’d crossed an ethical line, or that I would be called out by some mythical boardroom of revered elders. Even if I did, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t care very much.
My photographs are made with patience and presence in the field, surrounded by trees and small creatures, to the sound of wind-blown branches and distant birdsong. They are purely my authentic creations, and one day they will help me to recall all my years spent exploring in solitude. Not only will the physical experiences be relived, but so too will the emotional, creative and imaginative moments. The images’ origins and underlying meanings won’t be affected by minuscule applications of new-at-the-time technology to barely-noticeable, transient objects.
The way I’m seeing it lately, AI is like anything else in life that seems scary at first but can be put to good, judicious use. In my case, and probably in the case of many photographers, it’s used in a manner that boosts expressive authenticity. It can even help to make an image look and feel more objectively “real” than the RAW file, or even the memory of the actual physical experience.
It’s up to every *photographer to determine their own thresholds for using AI, of course, and come to terms with the inevitable fluctuations of those thresholds. Not every moment, photograph, mood, or desired outcome is the same, so we shouldn’t pretend that the same set of guidelines necessarily applies to each image we make, every single time. Simultaneously, we should remain conscious of the truth that the overuse of AI, or any editing technology, can quickly lead to deception - the antithesis of authenticity.
The best editing tool is the one behind the camera: the living, breathing, thinking photographer, making compositional and creative decisions in the present moment.
* I starred “photographer” here because I think it’s useful to distinguish between photographer and digital artist. In my view this is best represented as a spectrum, with “photographer on the left” and “digital artist” on the right.
Photographer <—(Me, for now)—————————> Digital Artist
You could easily replace Photographer with adjectives like “Documentary”, “Literal”, or “Representative.” Likewise, you could swap Digital Artist for descriptors such as “Impressionistic”, “Abstract”, or “Ambiguous”.
For me, personally, a photographer uses a camera to make an image, then utilizes post-processing to bring the image into its own. No matter how they edit the photograph, it is still clearly recognizable as the photograph. Digital artists on the other hand - again, in my opinion - don’t necessarily have to start with a photograph. If they do, the photo becomes manipulated so heavily that the original image is significantly lost, and only traces of it (i.e. textures, outlines) remain to enhance the artistic vision. I’m in no way asserting that one is a more valid form than the other, or that one is more ethical or authentic.
I aim to land somewhere left of center, but not too far left. I normally want to convey a sense of reality and detail with my work because I want my viewers to better grasp the nuanced beauty of nature. Plus, I am deeply moved by the objective qualities of the natural world. At the same time, I need to stay true to my creative sensibilities, especially the ones that can’t be expressed easily with words, if at all.
The outwardly pulling tension created by the two opposing poles is more than a feeling or a phenomenon. For what I aspire to achieve with my work, it’s foundational.
On processing - February 2023
To a large extent, our mental health, and by extension our survival as individuals, depends on our ability to process experiences and feelings in ways that strengthen and protect our psyche. In this way, I consider my images to be emotive expressions, not just documentary snapshots, that must be recognized, appreciated and nurtured regardless of their outward “beauty.” They must be cared for if I am to continue not only developing as a human, but also connecting with myself and realizing my role in the natural world.
Using post-processing software, I do my best to honor the subject as well as to convey my subjective memory of the experience. To me, this is a challenging but rewarding balancing act. After composing and shooting a scene that resonates with my intellectual or emotional sensibilities at the time, in post-processing, I’ll sometimes cool or warm its tones; experiment with saturation and contrast; or apply dodging and burning. These are quick adjustments that might take something like 10 - 30 minutes depending on the scene, though selective masking can make it go a bit longer. When color doesn’t contribute to a photograph, I like to see what the patterns, textures and overall composition have to say in black and white. Just as when I’m in the field, I normally just end up playing around, following intuition. I enjoy letting an image marinate for days, weeks, or months before starting or finalizing my processing. Slowness is important to me.
The use of more extreme techniques such as dropping in fake skies with AI, or employing unrealistic compositing, sucks the joy and authenticity out of photography for me. These methods feel like working for a lousy demanding company, in a way, where everything is about bombastic, short term “achievement” with little regard for the big picture. My sensory and emotional experiences, combined with associated personal meaning, are too valuable to counterfeit by taking this approach. I am generally turned away from images that shout.
Ultimately, for what I want to communicate, a more balanced and lighter touch serves my message the most authentically - whatever that message happens to be. Heavy-handed approaches that tend to yield loud yet predictable results are not going to take me where I need to go.
