When Technology Misses the Point

Alright, it is February 2026, and this is the first article of the year.

I know it has been a while. I was meant to open the year talking about a video I made some years ago for Warner Music, but that can wait a little longer.

Instead, I want to start with a reflection. Something that happened a few weeks ago, which stayed with me longer than I expected.

Some weeks ago, I came across an online ad promising real estate agents everything they might need for marketing. Photos, floorplans, video, all bundled together for what was described as a reasonable price. Which usually means cheap. All delivered through a single app, supported by what I assume was some form of AI.

Out of curiosity, I booked an online Zoom call. With AI everywhere right now, and new solutions appearing almost daily, a quiet question sat in the back of my mind. Is this the thing that finally replaces what I do?

That question is probably familiar to anyone working in a creative field. Technology has been moving quickly, often faster than our ability to sit with what it actually changes, and what it does not.

The call itself was interesting. The presenter walked through a demo of how the app was meant to work, using a fair amount of photographic jargon. But it became clear quite quickly that the knowledge stopped at the surface. That became especially obvious when she mentioned that phones were now better than mirrorless cameras. I smiled, not because the statement was right or wrong, but because it missed the point entirely.

During the call, she mentioned she had previously worked in property management before moving into an administrative role for this product. That detail mattered more than I expected. It became clear she was trained to sell the app, not to understand the process or the outcomes it was meant to deliver.

When she showed completed projects, the results were fine. Not terrible, not impressive. Just fine. I could not see where AI was meaningfully involved. It felt more like images captured on a phone, passed on to a third party, edited quickly, and delivered without much care or intention.

At first, I felt unsettled. Not defensive, but uneasy. I kept thinking about why people hire professionals in the first place. Not for the device in their hands, but for how they see, and for their ability to deliver considered outcomes. The longer the conversation went on, the more that feeling eased. What I was looking at was not a creative solution built from within the industry, but a cost cutting exercise built from outside it.

That realisation shifted something for me.

The product was missing the most important part. The person behind the camera. Cameras and phones are just tools. They do not understand intention, context, or who a home is meant for. This system assumed that standing in a corner and pressing a button was enough. Sometimes it is. Most of the time, it is not.

When you photograph a home, you are not simply recording space. You are translating it. You are thinking about who might live there next. A family, a young couple, someone downsizing. You consider light, balance, restraint, and story. Those decisions are rarely noticed when done well, but they are never accidental.

Agents are experts in guiding people through the sale of their homes. They are not photographers, filmmakers, or copywriters, and they should not have to be. In the same way, I am not an agent. But I understand what they need, because we are working toward the same outcome, just from different perspectives.

Technology will continue to improve, and that is not something to resist. Tools can process faster, automate more, and remove friction. But they do not replace judgement, responsibility, or care. Those still sit with people.

This experience reminded me that my role is not to compete with technology, but to work with intention. To document reality carefully, and shape it toward a clear objective. And to remember that when something feels threatening at first glance, it is often an invitation to look more closely at where real value lives.

*The image at the top of this story took more than six hours to make. Not because it was complex, but because every element needed to serve a purpose. The aim was a faithful representation of the building, nothing more, nothing less. That kind of care does not happen automatically.