AI vs. Mosquito Massacre
Recently, I exchanged a few comments about AI-generated images—after I tried (and failed) to recreate one myself. The attempt ended in disaster thanks to a gold-glitter malfunction. Think “wardrobe malfunction,” but artier—and messier. I was aiming for elegance, but instead ended up with something between a sparkly accident and a cautionary tale. Let’s just say, AI made it look effortless. I did not.
I’m not against AI. Actually, I find it fascinating. Some of the images it produces are stunning: full of atmosphere, character, sometimes even emotion. It’s also a great creative trigger. There are moments when it suggests an idea I hadn’t thought of, and that’s incredibly valuable. I’m all for tools that expand how we see and think.
But in my experience, nothing compares to the real thing. AI doesn’t prepare a shoot with you. It doesn’t sit at dinner the night before with your model, building a subtle trust. It doesn’t carry tripods through the jungle, or sweat under the sun while you chase a sliver of perfect light. And it definitely doesn’t lean in, smell the model’s skin, and wait for that moment—that look—that says more than anything posed ever could.
And then there’s the chaos. AI will never wake you up at 4 a.m. because one of the models tried to smuggle in two prostitutes from a disco (true story). While David and I scrambled to explain to a very drunk, very stubborn model why we couldn’t risk everyone’s safety—eight people were sleeping in that 1000-square-meter penthouse—AI was safe and sound in the cloud, generating perfect lighting with zero drama.
Or take that time in a finca in the hills of Medellín, where I got eaten alive by mosquitoes. I ended up on steroids, antihistamines, and more hydrocortisone than should be legally prescribed. You know what AI doesn’t get? Rashes. Or altitude sickness. Or bitten ankles.
But it also doesn’t get trust, laughter, tension, or that beautiful awkwardness when two people—photographer and model—are trying to figure out how far they can go together, artistically, emotionally, vulnerably. It can’t recreate what happens when a model opens up and suddenly you’re not just shooting a picture—you’re telling a story, and you both feel it.
That human connection, with all its beauty, messiness, and unpredictability, is the work. And no algorithm, no matter how advanced, can replicate that.
Second image > Homage to Sally Mann
