Why Do We Expect Photography to Be Free?
- vilija skubute
- Jan 5
- 4 min read
Updated: Jan 7
The question that keeps appearing
Scroll through social media long enough and you will see it.
An advert for a portrait session. A calm studio image. Beautiful light. A promise of something meaningful. And underneath, a short, almost reflexive comment:
“Is it free?”
Why does this question appear so often in photography and not, for example, under adverts for dentists, designed clothes, jewellery, or car mechanics? Why has photography — an art form that requires technical skill, emotional intelligence, years of practice, and significant financial investment — become something people expect to receive for nothing?
But this question is rarely aggressive. More often, it is casual — typed without much thought, as if it were the most reasonable thing to ask. And yet, it reveals something deeply rooted in how photography is understood today.
This question is not really about money. It is about value. And more importantly, about what society believes photography is.
To understand why portrait and studio photography are so often expected to be free — or at least cheap — we need to look at how photography has evolved, how images now surround us, and how effort has slowly become invisible.
When photographs were rare, they mattered
Photography did not begin as an everyday activity. In its earliest days, it was complex, slow, and expensive. A photographic portrait in the 19th and early 20th centuries was not a casual decision. It was an event. People dressed carefully. Studios were formal spaces. Children were instructed to sit still. Adults carried a sense of occasion. A single photograph could be the only visual record a family ever owned.
Because photography was rare, it was respected. Because it was difficult, it was trusted. Because it required specialised knowledge, its value was unquestioned.
No one asked if it was free.
Early studio photographers were not viewed as hobbyists or enthusiasts. They were respected professionals — technicians, artists, and problem-solvers combined.
In England, studios such as The Mayall Studio in London, run by John Jabez Edwin Mayall, and Burke & James Studio,. Both studios demonstrate the careful planning, lighting, and staging that went into every image.
Photographers such as Julia Margaret Cameron and Edward Steichen built portraits through careful construction, not chance. Cameron’s soft, emotionally charged portraits were meticulously staged and lit, even when they appeared natural. Steichen’s elegant studio work relied on controlled lighting, considered posing, and refined backdrops to shape mood and meaning.
Every portrait required planning — light direction, pose, backdrop, clothing, expression. The process demanded both technical mastery and the ability to guide a human being into stillness and presence. A successful portrait was never accidental. That has not changed.
Accessibility changed perception, not skill
As cameras became smaller and more affordable, photography slowly entered everyday life. By the mid-20th century, families owned cameras. By the late 20th century, photography became common. Then came the digital revolution.
Suddenly, photographs were limitless. No film. No processing cost. No waiting.
Today, millions of photographs are taken every single day. Most of them are quick snapshots — casual, unplanned, and forgotten within minutes.
This volume has quietly reshaped perception.
When images are everywhere, they feel disposable. When something feels disposable, it is rarely valued.
Even in the modern era, creating a powerful portrait requires the same careful attention that photographers exercised a century ago. Lighting must be planned, backdrops considered, clothing chosen with intention, and poses directed to convey personality and emotion. The difference now is that this planning is often invisible, especially in images that appear effortless on social media.
Interestingly, many images that look like spontaneous snapshots — from influencers or fashion spreads — are in fact carefully orchestrated photoshoots. Light, clothing, location, and posture are all designed to appear casual, creating an illusion of effortlessness. Unlike true quick snapshots, these images are the product of skill, planning, and experience.
The lesson is clear: whether in a 19th-century London studio or a modern digital session, the creation of a meaningful portrait is never accidental. What has changed is not the work involved, but the visibility of that work. And when effort is hidden, the perception of value often diminishes.
Relearning how to look
A powerful portrait has never really been about the camera. It’s always been about intention. A hundred years ago, that intention meant carefully placing someone near a window, choosing a backdrop, arranging their clothing, guiding their posture, and waiting patiently for the right expression. Today, it means planning light, styling outfits, directing movement, and shaping mood — just with different tools.
The cameras have changed. The craft hasn’t.
What has changed is how easy it looks from the outside.
Photography has always been both an art and a business. In the past, photographers paid for studio space, large cameras, glass plates, film, chemicals, and darkrooms. Time was spent developing negatives by hand, printing photographs, and mastering processes that could take years to learn.
Today, the darkroom has been replaced by software. Instead of chemicals and film, photographers pay monthly for tools like Photoshop, Lightroom, archiving systems, and editing software. Studio rent, professional lighting, cameras, lenses, insurance, education — those costs never disappeared. They simply changed shape.
What remains constant is the investment. The time. The skill. The experience.
So perhaps the real challenge now isn’t convincing people that photography costs money. It’s reminding them what a portrait actually is.
Not a quick snapshot taken in passing.
But a carefully created image — one designed to hold presence, memory, and meaning long after the moment has passed.
In the end
Photography is everywhere. But meaningful photography is not!
And behind every image that lasts longer than a scroll is a skilled person who planned, guided, and shaped it — even if the final photograph looks effortless.
So the question shouldn't be, “Is it free?”
It should be, “How much is it worth?” — because what you are really paying for is skill, experience, and the ability to create an image that truly captures presence, memory, and meaning.
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