Disclaimer: This article shares my personal thoughts and views about what I believe is happening with photography in modern times, particularly in light of digital methods now that we have 25 years of history with this new approach. I do not intend to hurt anyone’s feelings or start a religious debate about digital vs. film. I am simply sharing my thoughts and reflections. While we may agree or disagree, everyone should be able to express their views respectfully. I welcome your thoughtful and respectful comments even if they don’t align with my views.
The Shift from Photographs to Images
When I think of digital photography, I think of images. When I think of analog photography, I think of photographs. This distinction has been weighing on my mind, pushing me to question whether photography, as it was once understood, still truly exists—or if it has been replaced by something fundamentally different.
For centuries, photography was a physical, tangible process. Light struck a sensitized material, triggering a chemical reaction that recorded an image onto a surface. From the earliest calotypes and daguerreotypes to silver gelatin and platinum prints, photography was an interaction between light, chemistry, and physical matter. It was an object you could hold in your hands, something that existed in the physical world as a unique entity.
Digital imaging, on the other hand, is not bound to any material form. It exists as data—code, pixels, a collection of numbers stored on a memory card, manipulated on a screen, and displayed through glowing diodes. Unlike a silver gelatin or platinum print, a digital image is not inherently anything until displayed. It has no fixed state, no permanent form. It can be altered endlessly, replicated infinitely, and exists more as an idea than an object.
This leads me to an unsettling question: Is digital photography still photography, or has it evolved into something else entirely?
The Shift from Process to Output
Traditional photography was a process-driven craft. It required patience, discipline, and a deep understanding of materials. The photographer was also a chemist, a technician, and a craftsman. The final print resulted from a series of deliberate choices made throughout the exposure, development, and printing process.
Digital imaging has primarily separated the act of capturing an image from the process of creating a final work. A modern camera captures an image instantly, often in automatic mode (with the help of artificial intelligence in the latest models), and then manipulates the image after the fact. The original “negative” is a raw data file, infinitely malleable. The printing step, once the defining moment of photographic expression, is often skipped altogether. Many digital images never leave the screen. They exist in an endless cycle of editing, sharing, and archiving but rarely materialize as physical photographs.
This shift from process-driven creation to output-driven production raises another question: If an image never becomes a photograph, is it still photography? Or is it simply digital imaging?
The Loss of the Physical Artifact
In the past, a photograph was permanent. It aged, it could be held, and it bore the marks of time. A silver gelatin print, a platinum print, or a daguerreotype carries with it a tangible history—fingerprints from the photographer, subtle imperfections from the chemistry, the physical weight of paper or metal.
Digital images do not age in the same way. They do not fade, stain, or yellow over time, and one could argue they do not carry the photographer’s fingerprints. They do not develop cracks in the emulsion or show evidence of the photographer’s hand. They remain pristine—or they disappear altogether when a hard drive fails, a cloud service shuts down, a format becomes obsolete, or the social media platform goes away.
A digital image is temporary unless intentionally made into a physical object. Because digital technology encourages infinite replication, even printed digital images often lack uniqueness. A digital print is not a singular object but a reproduction—one of an unlimited number that could be made at the click of a button. In contrast, a handmade darkroom print or an alternative process print is a unique piece of work that is impossible to duplicate exactly.
This is where I begin to wonder—has photography lost its soul?
The Role of the Photographer in a Digital World
One of the most profound changes brought by digital imaging is the role of the photographer. A photographer had to engage deeply with the craft in the analog era. Light had to be understood before an exposure was made. The darkroom was a place of refinement, not rescue. Choices were made with finality. The photograph was shaped at every stage, with limitations requiring skill.
Today, much of that intentionality has been replaced with convenience. Autofocus, auto-exposure, instant review, and limitless storage have changed how images are made. Post-processing software allows infinite corrections, many of which are AI-driven, so decisions in the moment of capture feel less significant. In the digital world, if the image-maker doesn’t like the sky, they can click a button, and AI technology will add it. The medium’s constraints no longer bind artists; instead, they are bound by the possibilities of technology.
This is not necessarily a bad thing, but it is different. It suggests that photography, as it was once known, is no longer the dominant form of image-making. What most people call “photography” today might be more accurately described as digital imaging, a process more akin to graphic design than the traditional craft of light-sensitive materials.
The Impact of AI (Artificial Intelligence)
Artificial Intelligence (AI) is no longer a futuristic concept—it is already embedded into nearly every aspect of modern photography, from the moment of capture to the final edit. And yet, AI is still in its infancy. What we are witnessing today is only the beginning of a technological shift reshaping what it means to be a photographer.
AI-driven algorithms are now deeply integrated into camera technology, fundamentally changing how images are captured. Autofocus systems no longer rely solely on the physics of lenses and sensors; they are guided by machine learning, trained on millions of images to predict and lock onto a subject with precision that surpasses human ability. Modern cameras recognize faces, eyes, and even specific animals, adjusting settings in real time to create an optimal exposure—all without the photographer making a single decision.
In the post-processing stage, AI has become an even more powerful force. Editing software can now remove unwanted objects, relight a scene, sharpen details that never existed in the original image, and even replace a cloudy sky with a sunny one at the click of a button. The boundary between what was captured and what was generated is becoming increasingly blurred.
Then, AI has the ability to create entirely synthetic images. With only a text prompt, AI models can generate hyper-realistic “photographs” of people who never existed, landscapes that were never seen, and moments that never happened. The implications of this are profound. What does it mean for photography when images can be created without a camera, without light, and without a photographer? When the entire creative process can be simulated by an algorithm trained on billions of existing images, does the word photography even apply anymore?
AI is still in its early stages, but its impact is undeniable. It has automated technical decisions that once defined photographic skill. It has blurred the lines between documentation and fabrication. Most critically, it has raised fundamental questions about what it means to create a photograph in the first place. If an image can be generated by an algorithm rather than captured through light and time, then are we still practicing photography—or have we entered an entirely new era of digital imaging, where the act of seeing and recording is no longer essential?
This rapidly evolving landscape makes me reflect even more deeply on my pure analog handmade process. As AI expands its reach, the value of handmade, analog photographs—created with physical materials, chemistry, and deliberate craftsmanship—feels more vital than ever. In a world where images can be faked, generated, or altered beyond recognition, the authenticity of a real photographic print, made by light and hands, becomes profoundly rare and meaningful.
Where Does That Leave Us?
If digital imaging has primarily replaced traditional photography, where does that leave those who still work with film, paper, chemicals, and light-sensitive materials? Are we merely practicing a nostalgic art form or are we the last true photographers?
I do not believe that traditional photography is obsolete—but I do believe it has become something rare. The vast majority of images created today are digital, and the majority of those images will never exist outside of a screen. The physical and handmade process of crafting a photograph on paper, once the defining feature of photography, is now the domain of a dedicated few.
And yet, I believe this rarity is what makes it valuable. In an era of infinite replication, the handmade photograph holds more meaning. In a world where images are disposable, the permanence of a physical print is an act of resistance. And in a time when automation dominates, the choice to work slowly, deliberately, and skillfully is more critical than ever.
A Final Thought
Perhaps we need a new distinction—one that separates photography as a craft from digital imaging as a technology. Both have their place, but they are not the same. In the traditional sense, photography still exists, but it is no longer the default—it is a conscious choice, a commitment to process, patience, and permanence.
For me, that choice is clear. I choose photographs over images, light-sensitive materials over pixels, and the physical handmade process over convenience and artificial automation.
I choose to be a photographer, not a digital image-maker or a prompt engineer who instructs a machine that creates fake and synthetic images.
So, to answer the question posed in the title of this article—no, I don’t believe the digital age has ruined authentic photography. However, it has undoubtedly blurred the lines of what photography is, redefining how we perceive images in an era where digital manipulation and artificial generation have become indistinguishable from reality.
Rather than diminishing the value of handmade analog photography, I believe this shift has made it more rare and precious than ever in my lifetime. As AI and digital tools automate and manipulate the photographic process, the significance of a truly handcrafted photograph—one created through skill, knowledge, and deliberate artistic intent—only grows stronger.
If that makes me a dinosaur in this modern age, then so be it. But know this—I am a very happy dinosaur. I take immense joy in every step of the analog photography process, from exposing the negative to crafting the final print by hand. And when I am long gone, for those who care to look back, they will know that my photographs were made with my own hands, guided by my own vision, and shaped by an unbroken connection to the essence of photography itself.
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This debate will continue, but it should not. They are both process driven, just a different process of making the final print, or photograph. Your arguments are not valid. It is similar to telling a watercolor painter that his painting is not a real painting, because he does not use oils. I could go on and on, photography is photography irrespective of the process. Besides, it’s not the process that creates the final image, it’s the person who realizes that moment of making the image. As all photographs start out as moments in someone’s mind.
Hi Dennis, thank you for sharing your thoughts and ideas. Of course, we disagree with this one, but that is okay. We live in a big world where it is inevitable that people will disagree on just about anything, but it is how we disagree that matters. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and being respectful. Please stay in touch.
Totally agree Tim…I believe art is a continuum with a much higher value the less technology is used. So for example a hammer and chisel creating a sculpture is a much higher art form than 3D printing the same.
One of Orson Welles’ famous quotes about creativity is:
“The enemy of art is the absence of limitations.”
This reflects his belief that constraints—whether financial, technical, or otherwise—can actually drive creative innovation rather than hinder it.
This certainly applies to photography
Hi Ralph, thank you for taking time to comment and share your thoughts. As you know, this will stir up a lot of chatter, both in agreement and in total disagreement. I wanted to share my views and thoughts, knowing that some will agree and others will not… Excellent quotes. Stay in touch.
Oh, no, Tim, I would most definitely argue that digital has NOT ruined photography. It has ruined ITSELF. Next year is the 200th anniversary of Niepce’s paper negative print, and film-based photography stands at 175 years. World culture has had a full five generations to work with “the film look”, and that look has been a mainstay for those five generations. We have not had such a development in digital imaging. We do NOT have a “digital look”, because the technology moves so fast that the body politic in our world cultures has a chance to experience it for any longer than half a generation. Need I dwell on the technologically advance PhotoCD by Kodak – especially its advanced sibling, Pro Photo CD which featured 4K and 16bit images which are still standards today – which was introduced in 1992, and was completely gone by 2004. I will blame the tandem of marketing and the advocates of matrixed color science mathematics for being unable to stem the proliferation and then rapid deprecation of software versions (both operating and application) file types, color spaces, LUTs, and digital tools – all of which are supposed to be “standard”. But they come and go – to borrow a line from Jack Nicholson from CHINATOWN – “quicker than the wind from a duck’s ass”. BTW, Tim I go into serious detail about this very issue, and all of its cascading topics in my PERMANENCE project (particularly the latter two chapters of the “PERMANENCE” method section). I sent it to you a couple of weeks ago, but the link has expired by now, so if you are interested, I would be more than happy to send it to you again. My email is in the signature block attached to the comment.
Hi Scott, thank you for such a detailed and thoughtful comment. I love it when people can come together, respectfully disagree, and still be friends. The bottom line for me is that I love my full analog workflow and I will continue to do it until I am either dead or unable to do it any longer. Yes, please send me the link again. I get a lot of email and I have been sick and also traveling, so time gets away quickly. Thank you and stay in touch.
Thanks for your thought provoking article. It’s really well written, and I agree, 100%.
Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts. I appreciate it.
Very well thought out article. Digital imagery/photographs as definitely changed photography as we know or, or maybe as we knew it. That is undeniable, But then again, photography has definitely gone through many changes in its comparatively short time frame. My thought on digital versus analog is not just about how the images are produced. More importantly, I feel, is how these images are consumed. Until recently it was relatively rare to see the artifact—the original print. Much more common were books. And now the internet. More and more people have the ability to see the images we create, while before, not many did. But then again, so many images are locked away on computers and mobile devices that they are rarely viewed once they were first swiped up to view. The vast majority of these images are temporary and probably do not need or deserve to be preserved forever. I am just glad I produce prints, actual phjysical prints, some of which I hope will outlive me. But they have already served their main purpose. They gave me immense joy and offered me the opportunity to see and experience things that I probably never would have. And that experience can be derived from digital or analog processes. So no, I do not feel it has ruined photography, but it sure has heck has morphed it considerably.
Thank you Daniel. You make some excellent points!
Well stated as usual, Tim. The world is all aflutter with this and that technology. But if I am not simply repeating what I have said before, I believe that some aspects of this technological explosion that has occurred over the past three decades since the WWW became public, will soon take on a new color, so to speak, in the public eye. This can not be seen from within the confines of the photographic world.
In physics are known what are termed boundary conditions, conditions that suddenly exhibit properties that are radically different from that which lies on either “side” of them. One example is what happens to the interaction of a body and the space around it as it reaches the speed of sound — the generation of a shock wave, creating new organization and properties of “air”. In super-heated plasma, and in outer space, self-organizing structures take form in ways we don’t yet understand.
The world has entered a period of phenomenal turbulence over the recent period, one that can only be understood from this sort of standpoint. A self-doomed system at the core of an unresolved historical conflict over centuries, has reached the end of its tether through an enormously complex dynamic interplay of numerous forces. The financial system, which has long become fundamentally driven by speculation, less and less involved with the *physical economy* that supports humanity, has created bubbles that cannot be sustained. Some are trying now to buy time with crypto currencies — a fool’s errand.
The toll this trend has exacted has reached the point that the majority of the world’s nations are saying, “Enough. Humanity first.”
That same concern for universal human values will take a multitude of forms as we pass through the turbulence of this change, from a dying system with all its built-up ideologies and myths and errors, into a new paradigm reflecting less imperfectly many mankind’s truly essential values. As more and more people distrust and seek escape from the deleterious illusions they long harbored, or at least accepted, the value of that which reflects the best characteristics of humanity and of human social practice will find its place again. Because of the inter-connectedness of today’s world, it will happen in a way never before seen in history. That is underway now.
In the arts, it is my belief that, while the digital snapshot will represent the popular use, the distrust in digital manipulation will lead a growing number away from its thrall in search of something “real.” Just as traditional, representational painting ateliers have seen a remarkable revival in recent decades, traditional photography, obscured by the popular fascination with new toys that have started to be doubted, will find a new welcome.
Hi Philip, thank you for taking the time to share your unique and fastinting perspective. You make some excellent points and I really appreicate you taking time to add your unique value to the conversation.
Hi Tim – and Philip and Daniel –
I’ve replied already, but what Philip and Daniel have commented is immensely important – and especially in Tim’s context of “photographs” vs. “images” and “craft” vs “technology”. I am not old enough to have gone through the original days of color photography, when it was black-and-white plates projected through a “magic lantern” on a screen as was done by Sergei Prokudin-Gorskii from 1905-1915. But I was old enough to take that “technology” (original separations) and make dye-transfer prints. It worked well, and not only for original separations, but for all types of my color work, including transparency and color negative. Were it not for that experience, I don’t think I could have developed a “craft” that enabled me to take original separations – and other color images – and migrate them satisfactorily into the digital realm. In other words, it was the successfully established history of color work that preceded me to make that possible.
One thing that always has bothered me about digital imaging and technology: how did we become so accepting, like sedentary sheep, of the concept of “calibration”? The digital technologists assume that any image can be shoehorned into a multitude of display and other digital presentation technologies via the adherence to, and the application of, this process. I have been working in the motion picture editorial industry for 30 years, and printing my own digital photographs for the same period, searching for that Holy Grail of calibrated digital workflows, and I can say unequivocally they do not work as theorized and elaborated through the tremendous output of the calibration literature – without a lot of very custom rulebreaking tweaks to the workflow just to get it to work to some level of artistic satisfaction. This isn’t photographic science; it’s alchemy. If we were to transpose this “calibration” line of digital thinking back to the 1936 and the invention of Kodachrome, what advice do you think Mannes & Godowsky would have offered about “calibrating” Kodachrome to your Nikon or Leica or Exacta? What a load of crap. Back then the manufacturers and processing labs did all of that empirical testing for you; “fitness of merchantability” – consumption of the product – actually meant something. So to Tim & Daniel’s concerns about digital imaging & how these images are consumed are of crucial merit. Indeed, I would argue that museum archivist and gallery curators hold court here: they would firmly agree that there are two – and ONLY two – criteria for an archival element. The element can be held in human hand(s), and ambient light strikes the element and reflects the contents to your eye, or you hold the element up to a light and that light passes through it to your eye. Period, that’s it. And while the digital pundits laud the digital color never fades (true, it does not), try opening a Photo CD image or a TARGA file in a digital imaging app (Photoshop). Good luck with that; the color may be beautiful in that PCD or TGA file, but if you can’t get it to it, it’s in Color Science Mausoleum that is solidly locked. This is a direct focal point in Phil’s observations about “the digital snapshot will represent popular use” and that digital imaging “has popular fascination with new toys that have started to be doubted”. Digital imaging technology has no such archival object as defined by curators/archivists simple criteria, so a digital image is as transient as the device upon which it is stored. And while those same digital pundits may say “migration” is the answer – who wants to spend their time and their investment in technology just keeping their images “current” with the latest hardware and software? The archivists/curators would probably argue: well, you don’t need an upgrade to the human hands just to hold a print or a piece of film.
To sum up bluntly, this scares the hell out of me. As a photographic artist, I want images to not just last, but to have the same impact as when I first saw them. For now, a print seems the only solution. I have found that no inkjet printer has been as breathtaking as an exceptionally well-made dye transfer print or a superb black-and-white print made on Agfa Portriga Rapid with Amidol developer. Only the one inkjet printer that I am using now creates satisfactory enough prints for me, and it shall remain nameless, but it is by no means optimum. So, Tim, with your conclusion of “light-sensitive materials over pixels”, I will absolutely agree until the digital imaging industry recognizes its shortcomings and failures and “mans up” to fix them.
And the worst part is (and I’m sometimes guilty of it myself) is that we often shoot not for ourselves but to appease a platform.
It is believed that Ansel Adams would have loved digital and Photoshop, according to many of those who worked and studied with him. What’s one’s preference for working in a medium doesn’t make it better than anyone else’s or anyone a better artist . There are tons of ways of working and combining analog media with traditional photography media.
In addition, using the correct inks, printers, and papers- digital prints will last as long or longer than darkroom prints if printed using archival inks and fiber based cotton rag papers. Many papers started in the darkroom world.
Look up the Wilhelm Institute and Craig Stevens photography and ask his input. A master of analog and digital printing.
http://wilhelm-research.com/index.html
https://www.loc.gov/preservation/outreach/tops/wilhelm/index.html
https://www.craigstevens.me/profile/
Tim, as one who is a die hard film shooter, camera builder, educator, book publisher and carbon transfer artist I agree 100%. For me, it boils down to purity in capturing light vs. digital illustration.
For the last almost 20 years I’ve printed nothing but carbon transfer from my large and ultra-large format negatives. Keeping the historic process alive. It feels right for me!
It is all about the final print and what feeling that print can give you. Again for me, it is a well crafted handmade print. There is nothing like it. I think it is also how one is wired. Some people are scientists and into technology and maybe gravitate to a digital workflow. It is interesting in that in the carbon workshops I teach I see more digital negatives being used. This is where the craft of creating the proper digital negative for the final output print is very important. I tailor my negatives for my process from what I get in the field. The negatives that are digitally printed need to be crafted as expertly as a film negative for the printing process. If they are left on a computer to die they are nothing more than a digital illustration in my eye. They do nothing for me.