Some of this is actual perfection, some is make-up, and some is retouching. Don’t underestimate the professionalism of photographers and models. When you see a beautiful picture, it’s not an accident. There are talented people who produce the image.
Then there’s the other end of photography, me, and I’m not a professional or perfect. When I take a picture, I’m taking a picture of my pores and blemishes and funny lines on my skin. I’m not ethereal to start with, and I don’t wear much make-up. I have a hard enough time planning the clothes I’m going to wear, and let’s not even think about prepping the set for photos.
And then there’s the processing of the pictures, and I don’t do much processing (retouching) of my pictures. Not that I’m opposed to processing, I just have no idea what to do or how to do it.
I don’t use or have Photoshop. When I started taking pictures, I invested in my camera (oh, I love you, NikonD7000) but nothing else. I thought it was enough to just have the apparatus to take the pictures. Who knew there was more to a picture than just pressing a button?
But it’s OK. I’m not the type of photographer, or photo subject aka ‘the model’, who needs to use retouching. Not that I’m perfect, ha, ha, far from it, and my lack of perfection can’t be fixed with retouching, so I go for real.
But sometimes I have to deal with more than just blemishes or tiny hairs, or… (ok, I’m going to stop listing my imperfections before I decide I really do need a touch-up). Sometimes I have to deal with bruises.
BIG, UGLY, PURPLE BRUISES! UGH!
Maybe this is something fitness models often deal with, or maybe I’m just special (read special as clumsy), but I hit myself with weights all the time. And I bump into things, like walls, doors, that sort of thing. Therefore, bruises. And not just bruises, but ugly ones. Big, purple and yellow marks that make me look like I’m on an episode of Star Trek and I’ve got the Space Pocks.
So I have to do some retouching. I get rid of the bruises, sometimes, ha, ha, but if you see something ugly on my skin, blame it on the weights and my self-flagellation to the altar of exercise.