Perfection is like the horizon — the closer we try to get, the further it seems to recede. In photography, this becomes particularly evident: sharper sensors, better lenses, more sophisticated image editing, and now AI. But have these advances really made our images better? Or are we losing exactly what makes a photograph come alive — its soul?
Our very existence is inherently imperfect. We have asymmetrical facial features, unique ways of walking, individual quirks — not to mention blemishes and wrinkles. Yet these very "flaws" make us human and unique, and most importantly, approachable. They create intimacy and enable a sense of connection.
This is particularly important in my photography. I want viewers to relate to a situation or feel drawn into a scene. When photographing women, I aim for them to appear perfect yet not unrealistically so — allowing viewers to develop a genuine attraction. It's difficult to explain, but there are certainly gradients of perfection, and as humans, we're incredibly sensitive to these nuances.
Returning to photography: Psychology recognizes the phenomenon of the "uncanny valley" — when something appears too perfect, it becomes eerie and repulsive. This applies not only to robots and artificial intelligence but also to images and art. An overly perfect portrait can appear lifeless and sterile, while a slightly blurred shot might convey more dynamism and vitality.
I vividly remember photographing a model years ago who had a slightly larger nose (who defines these standards anyway?). A friend of mine was absolutely enchanted by her imperfect nose. It might sound strange, but many of us have preferences that completely diverge from ideals of perfection.
The Japanese aesthetic of Wabi-Sabi teaches us to appreciate the beauty of the imperfect, transient, and incomplete. A chipped vessel can possess more history and character than a flawless specimen. Applied to photography, this means that a technically imperfect image can evoke a stronger emotional response than a technically flawless shot. This doesn't apply universally, and not every bad photograph can be elevated this way, but perhaps you understand my point.
As photographers, we can learn to use imperfection as a creative element. For instance, by employing motion blur to express a dynamic — something I want to explore more in the future. Until now, I've often held prisms in front of my lenses for creative effects.
I've frequently written in my blog about the beauty of film grain and using graininess as a stylistic device. Anything that softens the digital and perfect nature of photos and offers surprise.
The art lies not in choosing between perfection and imperfection but in finding a balance.
Technical skills are certainly important, but they should serve us, not control us. We should consciously decide when perfection serves a purpose and when "flaws" enrich an image.
The imperfect is more human because it's more honest. It reflects our own nature and creates a deeper connection with the viewer. In an increasingly digitized and perfected world, this authenticity becomes ever more valuable — of this I'm convinced.