Process vs Result: Are Photographers Focusing on the Wrong Thing?

When I first picked up a camera, my intention was simple: to capture what I saw. I left it in ‘auto’ mode and snapped away, largely oblivious to what the camera was doing behind the scenes to produce these images—never mind considering editing them afterwards.

However, the deeper I pursued a future in photography, the more I wanted to learn. I discovered techniques that ‘auto’ mode simply wouldn’t allow me to master. I realised I needed to understand the process of photography in order to achieve the results I envisioned.

Over a six-month period, I met weekly with a professional photographer, learning the ins and outs of the craft until I reached a point where I could execute my intentions far more accurately.

A few years later, I attended a talk at Photo London by a highly respected photographer. During the Q&A session, an inspired audience member asked, “What camera settings do you use to produce your style?”

The response, in my opinion, felt dismissive:“If you’re asking me that, you’re not looking at my photos properly.”

Driving home up the M1, I found myself reflecting on that answer. While it initially struck me as arrogant, I began to understand the reasoning behind it.

As photography students, the process is vitally important. When I was learning, I needed to focus on how I was achieving my results. But for those outside the often scrutinising world of photography, that process is largely irrelevant. What matters is the image itself—the content—and the emotional connection it creates. Not the workings behind it.

In hindsight, the question at Photo London, though well-intentioned, somewhat missed the point. By focusing on how the image was made, it overlooked the more important act of engaging with what the image was saying.

This idea extends beyond photography. In life, we master countless processes—learning to drive, paying bills, cooking. Eventually, these skills become second nature. Yet in photography, we often remain fixated on the mechanics. Instead of using the process to create a finished product, the process itself becomes the product.

I often look back with admiration at the first photos I took in ‘auto’ mode. They were purely about the image, not about how I achieved it. There was a certain freedom in that approach. The pictures felt more ‘true to life’, for want of a better phrase.

It makes me wonder: what if we approached photography like any other skill we’ve mastered? What if we allowed the process to fade into the background—still present, but almost subconscious? Perhaps then we could reconnect with that beginner’s freshness, while still benefiting from the finesse of an experienced photographer.

And maybe—just maybe—that balance would create images that resonate more deeply with everyone who views them.