WHY I STOPPED CHASING PERFECT PHOTOGRAPHS -and started looking for meaning, emotion and authentic moments in portrait photography
„I used to photograph for perfection. Today, I photograph for meaning. There was a time when a perfect photograph was very easy for me to define.“
A great model. A strong face. Perfect light. The right crop. Beautiful skin. Perfect retouching. Everything technically clean. I was incredibly picky. Every little detail mattered. And honestly, I still know the difference between a technically good photograph and a bad one. That doesn’t disappear. But somewhere along the way, something changed. I stopped asking myself: “Is this a perfect photograph?”And started asking: “Does this photograph mean something?”
01- I used to chase perfection
For a long time, photography was about getting everything right. The light had to be right. The composition had to be right. The model had to look incredible. The retouching had to be clean. The photograph had to work. And when everything came together, there was a certain satisfaction in it. You look at the image and think: Yes. That’s a really good photograph. And I still love that. Technical perfection matters. After years of photography, you develop an eye for it. You see when the light is right. You see when the composition works. You see when something is technically weak. That knowledge stays with you. But it is no longer enough.
02 – Then I looked at the photographs I took in my own home
And I realized something. Very few of the photographs hanging in my home are the photographs I once would have called perfect. There are no walls full of technically perfect model portraits. Some of the photographs I value most were made with a phone. Some are blurry. Some aren’t perfectly composed. Some would probably never make it into a portfolio. There are photographs on my fridge of people who are close to me. Small photographs. Ordinary photographs. But when I look at them, I remember. A person. A moment. A feeling. Something that happened once and will never happen exactly the same way again. And suddenly, the technical quality becomes almost irrelevant.
03 – The value of photograph changed
Today, a good photograph can be something completely different for me. It can be a private moment. A quiet moment with someone. Something unexpected. Something that happened only once. And I think: „Wow. I’ll never get that back.“ But I have the photograph. That’s where the value is. Not necessarily in the fact that it’s the most beautiful photograph in the world. Not in the perfect retouching. Not in the perfect model face. But in what the photograph holds. A part of a person. A part of a relationship. A part of a life. Something that would otherwise simply disappear.
04 – Sometimes the best photograph isn`t the best
I’ve photographed a lot of models. I’ve created photographs that are technically strong, carefully lit, beautifully retouched and perfect for a Sedcard. And I’m proud of that work. But there’s a different feeling when someone writes to me and says: “I love this photograph so much.” Or: “We printed it and put it on the wall.” Or when the parents of a professional model look at a photograph of their daughter and say: “Of all the photographs she has as a professional model, this is the one where we recognize her.” That means something different to me. Because now the photograph isn’t just good. It has become theirs. They see something in it. They recognize someone they love. And suddenly, the photograph has a value that no technical measurement can really describe.
05 – I still care about technical perfection
I haven’t stopped caring about making beautiful photographs. Quite the opposite. The technical knowledge will always be there. I know what good light looks like. I know how to build a photograph. I know how to retouch. I know how to make a technically strong image. I’ve spent too many years doing this for that knowledge to disappear. But maybe I’ve reached a point where I don’t need to prove it anymore. I’ve made technically clean photographs for a long time. I know I can do it. The more interesting question has become: „What do I actually want to say with my photographs?“
06 – Maybe this is where my photography is going
I still photograph models. I still create beautiful, technically precise portraits. But when I think about where my photography might go from here, I feel myself moving somewhere more personal. More intimate. More poetic. Less concerned with proving that I can make a perfect photograph. More interested in creating a photograph that means something to someone. Because maybe that’s the next step. First, you learn how to make a good photograph. Then you learn how to make a beautiful photograph. And eventually, you start wondering whether beauty is really the point.
07 – A photograph can hold a life
A photograph doesn’t have to be perfect to become important. Sometimes it’s enough that it reminds you of someone. Sometimes it’s enough that it takes you back to a moment. Sometimes it’s enough that, years later, you look at it and think: “I remember exactly how this felt.” That’s something perfection can’t give you. A technically perfect photograph can impress you. But a meaningful photograph can stay with you. And maybe that’s the difference I’ve started to care about.
08 – I want people recognize themself
Maybe this is also why I’ve become more interested in the person than the photograph itself. I don’t want to photograph someone simply so other people can say: “Wow, what a beautiful picture.” Of course, that’s nice. But I’m more interested in the person looking at the photograph and thinking: “That’s me.” Not the perfect version. Not the retouched version. Not the version designed for everybody else. Me. The person they know themselves to be. Or maybe even a part of themselves they had forgotten. That, to me, is becoming more and more valuable.
09 – Perfection impresses – meaning stays
I don’t think I’ve stopped chasing beautiful photographs. I’ve simply changed what beautiful means to me. Sometimes it is perfect light. Sometimes it is a beautiful face. Sometimes it is a photograph that could go straight into a Sedcard. And sometimes it is a completely imperfect phone photograph on my fridge. Because that photograph holds something I can’t recreate. A person. A moment. A feeling. A piece of life. And maybe that’s what photography is really about. Not keeping everything perfect. But keeping something that would otherwise be gone.
10 – Why I stopped chasing photographs
I don’t think I’ll ever stop seeing technical imperfections. That’s part of who I am as a photographer. But I don’t want technical perfection to be the final destination anymore. I want the photograph to have a reason to exist. I want it to mean something to someone. I want someone to look at it ten years from now and still feel something. Maybe that’s the direction my photography is taking. From perfect to meaningful. From proving what I can do…to asking what the photograph can do for someone else. And perhaps that’s the most important thing I’ve learned: „The best photograph isn’t always the one you’d put in your portfolio.“ Sometimes it’s the one you’d never want to lose.
SEE LIGHT. DIRECT PEOPLE. CREATE.
„And then create something that means something. Authenticity and emotional meaning are also central to how portraiture is discussed in photographic theory: A portrait can go beyond likeness and communicate something about the person behind the image“
