What do we see when we look at a photograph? Do we expect to see a representation of actual events, or do we allow the photographer some artistic licence? In the age of photo-editing software and digital photography, how can the maxim “the camera never lies” be true?

Since the dawn of time, people have tried to depict the outside world, either for decoration or just to transmit information. When Henry VIII was considering whom to marry, he commissioned court painter Hans Holbein to create portraits of the potential candidates. To Anne of Cleves’ eventual disadvantage, her depiction was the one which attracted the King. Upon their meeting he discovered that the reality was somewhat different, calling her a “Flanders mare”. It seems the desire to enhance what we see has existed for almost as long as the inclination to record it.

From the pioneers of photography in the mid-nineteenth century to the modern innovations of digital technology, the camera is one of the most popular inventions of all time. After the Industrial Revolution, the photograph met the demand for portraits from the new middle classes, being far less costly and time-consuming than an oil painting. Moreover, the image captured by the camera is virtually lifelike: there is a finished product not subject to the skill or interpretation of the artist. Today, digital cameras are affordable and easy-to-use, and alongside this new technology it has become even easier to change the final photograph from its original.

Consider Herbert Mason’s famous photograph of the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral, surrounded by fire and smoke from the German bombs dropped on London. This photograph appeared on the front page of the Daily Mail on December 31st, 1940, under the headline “War’s Greatest Picture: St. Paul’s Stands Unharmed in the Midst of the Burning City”. It is arguably the most famous photograph of the Blitz, and a perfect representation of Britain’s war effort. It shows the destruction and savagery of aerial bombardment, whilst at the heart of the image there remains the proud symbol of London. But does this image tell the whole truth? Some parts of St. Paul’s Cathedral were damaged during the Blitz, so is it “lying” by omission?

Should you so desire, you can watch the antics of housemates in “Big Brother” twenty-four hours a day. Is this particularly captivating? Conventionally, the minutiae of everyday life yield no artistic interest as they are repetitive, boring and mundane. Only the exceptional events merit our attention: there has to be some process of editing to excise the banality. In the same way, it is what the photographer chooses to leave out that determines the quality of their work. Mason’s photograph symbolises the resilience of London during the Blitz. A photograph showing the parts of St. Paul’s that were destroyed would have told a story of the devastation and futility of war.

James Purnell M.P. for Stalybridge and Hyde was recently criticised because his image was edited into a group shot of other politicians outside a hospital building project near his constituency. According to the photograph, all the MPs were there at the same time, but in fact Mr Purnell arrived later than everyone else, and agreed to have his photo taken on the same spot, ignorant of the hospital’s plan to digitally add him into another photograph. This is a simple publicity stunt, an opportunity for the local politicians to be seen supporting a good cause. But, the fact that the photograph was changed was, to judge from the public outcry, unacceptable. Similarly, GQ magazine was forced to apologise to Kate Winslet after it altered photographs of her to make her look slimmer. In a world where female celebrities are regularly censored for being too fat or too thin, perhaps it makes sense to complain when photographs have been “enhanced” to make their subject appear thinner. However, there is no law preventing this happening. In this case, the problem occurred because Kate Winslet had not consented to having the photographs changed.

Does knowing the reality behind the photograph diminish its power? Or should it detract from the photographer’s original message? Often, there is an element of serendipity involved when taking a photograph, but good luck is not something that can be relied upon. In the absence of these, it seems reasonable to digitally enhance what is available for the best effect.
Nonetheless, every image must be considered in context. We consider the depiction of St. Paul’s during the Blitz to be an exceptional photograph because, despite the fact that it is not entirely truthful, it portrays a moment during the war with which many people can associate themselves. On the other hand, the vast majority of people cannot readily empathise with the plight of the rich and the powerful who control their image down to the last pixel. This is what makes paparazzi photos so irresistible: they show the usually glamorous to be looking horrendously normal!

Photographs have an immediacy that means they will always be considered differently to other art forms. It is the viewer’s prerogative to question what they are seeing or to ask what story they are telling. The camera does lie – and often does – but this does not undermine the power of the images it creates. Conscientious editing can make a great picture iconic, whereas, done for its own sake, it can deliberately mislead us.

There is no absolute truth in any photograph, for even an unwitting optical illusion can render a two-dimensional image differently to the three-dimensional reality. How can we trust what the photograph is showing us, unless we saw the original scene? Instead of criticism, we should value each photograph for its artistic merit and its importance as an historical source. Even if it does not accurately illustrate an event, it can nevertheless enlighten us about the quirks of human behaviour.