Portraits. Pictures. Snaps. Cave paintings at Lascaux. The Sistine frescoes. Royal portraits. People at war. Pouty models on the covers of Elle. Since virtually the beginning of man, we have been creating images of ourselves.

The creation of an image is an artistic process. Whether a it's a Steichen portrait or Aunt Rachael flashing her disposable in your face at the family picnic while yelling "Smile!" creation is happening.

Lately, there has been some discussion in Mensa about manipulating images. The discussion apparently began with speculation about whether an AMC candidate had her Bulletin photo retouched. My only interest in the ensuing conversation is that it might result in our governing authorities attempting to legislate some kind of photo-reality ASIEs.

Where is reality to be found?

Would Raphael have painted an ugly angel?

Well (speaking of Raphael angels), I am reminded of a photo I took several years ago of The Joyce. It was for the officer reports in the Bulletin. While I can't remember the reports, I can remember the photograph.

As usual, we waited until the last minute and had to move quickly. I began by doing her hair and make-up and selecting an outfit. While she was dressing, I set up a neutral, light-colored and variegated background. I set up four strobes, shooting through diffusing screens. When TJ joined me, I adjusted her clothes with duct tape and clip clothespins. A final hair adjustment and spray and a couple of finishing brushes of makeup later, I ran two rolls of negative film through the Nikon, shooting with a bare 75mm lens. "Turn left a little. Raise your chin. Eyeballs on my hand. Hold still! Look spontaneous." I zipped the exposed film to a one-hour processing place. When the prints were ready, we picked one right out of the box and immediately FedExed it to the Bulletin.

No retouching.

When the picture appeared, friends asked, "Is that really you?" "Is that an old picture?" "Where did you get that photo?"

Much of the recent Editors List conversation, an excellent article in InterLoc (April/May 2002) about retouching, and other discussion primarily addressed altering a photo with Photoshop. My point? We're dealing with not only a process that consists of a number of technical steps of which retouching might be one, but with the indefinable concepts of creativity and expression.

In a sense, the process begins with the point of view of the artist and his thoughts about the image he is going to create. This is inexorably intertwined with the final expressive purpose of the image. The author of the InterLoc article consulted several journalistic sources about their retouching policies. Of course, the Fourth Estate being the bastion of truth that it is, these representatives all disclaimed retouching.

What about those pictures of Gerald Ford banging his head? A union leader with a mouth full of food? Hillary Clinton caught in the middle of a blink? FDR never photographed in a wheel chair? For the journalist to eschew retouching is somewhat disingenuous because the composition, chiaroscuro—the moment and a feeling—can be much more expressive than a little airbrushing and an unsharp filter.

What is reality … the realistic representation of someone?

It begins with the photographer taking a photo with the end expression and all the intermediate steps in mind while looking through the viewfinder, before the shutter is released.

I recently shot a series of photos for use in a brochure and multimedia presentation for a health clinic. In one of these, the doctor—a lady I had always regarded as kind of cute—was caught in a perfect profile while performing a procedure on a patient. The angle and lighting conspired to reveal a schnozola worthy of Cyrano. When looking at this picture, you did not see the compassion and professionalism of the doctor. The cutting-edge equipment. The grateful and confident patient. You saw nothing but the NOSE!

So, I bobbed it. Just a little. No one ever noticed. Why? It made the doctor look like herself. It made her look the way people perceived her. This is why I will often remove or soften wrinkles and crow's-feet, touch out a flare on someone's glasses, smooth out stray hairs and fix up teeth. By changing a photo-realistic image, I create an image that expresses the reality of the person as they are perceived.

Picasso once painted a portrait of Gertrude Stein. Upon seeing it, she is reported to have said that it didn't look like her. Picasso responded by saying that she would grow to look like it. His work was not really a picture of how she looked. It was an expression of Her. This was his purpose.

Perhaps a good journalistic photographic portrait captures both a physical representation of how a person is perceived, as well as who they are—it truly portrays them. The important concept being truth. And it is something upon which we cannot necessarily rely in the case of journalists, politicians and political bodies.

—Jon Lundeen