Architectural photography is more than capturing buildings. It is about recreating how our brains perceive and experience space. Through careful application of technical skill, psychological insight and artistic judgment, photo editing transforms raw images into visuals that reflect both reality and human perception.

Have you ever noticed how a quick phone snapshot of a stunning building rarely captures the feeling it left in your mind? That’s because the human brain is an extraordinary image processor. Despite decades of advancements in camera technology, no sensor can match the way our brains interpret what we see.

As an architectural photographer, I experience this firsthand. Even with professional equipment, the images I bring back to the studio are only the starting point for the less glamorous work that follows. Editing work at the office may lack the appeal of location photography but it is every bit as vital.

^{Removing urban clutter improves compositional flow (Voco by Ignite Architects).} 

The three pillars of photo editing

The process can be roughly divided into three categories. We can think of the part where technical limitations are overcome as housekeeping. Step two, the psychological aspect of photo editing, substitutes the filtering work done by the brain with a rigorous retouching session. Finally, photo editors — usually the creator of the images — add an artistic touch by creating a look that suits the images.

Think of the ‘housekeeping’ side of photo editing as assembling a composite from several puzzle pieces. If you have worked with a photographer on location, you may have noticed how many images are taken from a single spot. Some are overexposed to preserve detail in the shadows, others are underexposed to do the opposite. Some are shot with filters to bring out the texture of specific building materials. Others capture people moving naturally through the space. Back at the office, all these source images are then merged into a final composite that reveals the full tonal range of the scene, with materials brought to life and people appearing in just the right place as if by chance.

^{A space that felt peaceful in person can sometimes appear busy in photos due to visual clutter (Flow Yoga by Field Studio of Architecture and Urbanism).}

Mimicking the brain

Moving on to step two, the process becomes more subjective. Have you ever walked into a civic space and felt like the clusters of sensors mounted on the ceiling ruined your viewing experience? Unless you designed the space yourself, you probably didn’t notice the jungle of gizmos up above. Your brain dismissed them as irrelevant and filtered them out. Unfortunately, our brains do not offer the same courtesy when we are looking at photographs. What felt like a clean, elegant ceiling in person can suddenly look like a mess in an image.

It is the editor’s job to right this wrong and make a judgement call on what elements in the frame are unwanted. While architects are keen on a pristine ceiling, a client running a building automation business might have other priorities. The same level of deliberation is then applied to other annoyances like brown spots on a lawn, utility cabinets, bird poop (so much bird poop), power sockets and loud writing on clothing. By the end of stage two, we have removed a significant amount of subjective ‘noise’ from the images. 

^{A publication deadline forced our hand to shoot with unfinished landscaping (Christchurch Style Revival by Young Architects).}

Ethics in editing

This brings us to the ethical question of modifying reality. Photography has always walked a fine line between the responsibility to document truthfully and the freedom of creative expression. In photojournalism, removing elements from an image is considered a serious breach. Commercial architectural photography, by contrast, offers more room for interpretation. Ultimately, it is the client who decides how much creative licence is appropriate to represent their work. For most projects, I follow the standards of accepted industry practice. Cleaning up a cluttered ceiling to achieve the clarity often seen in architectural renders is generally desired. Altering the architectural substance of a building is not. Imagine a group of competition judges arriving on site and frowning at an architectural detail that does not match what they saw in the photographs.

Editing tools powered by artificial intelligence have added new layers to this ongoing debate. Until recently, fabricating entire scenes from scratch — while technically possible — was rarely commercially practical. Replacing a poorly placed truck with a painted, rendered or composited street scene could take hours. Now, with AI, that same problem can be resolved in seconds, placing even more ethical responsibility on the photographer’s shoulders. Just because something can be done does not mean it should be. To avoid retouching anxiety, I provide my clients with a changelog that documents substantive changes.

^{A sky replacement shifts the mood of an uninspired sunset (Ara Kahukura by Jasmax).}

The final touch

Once all hard decisions are made, it is time to apply final brush strokes. A photographer’s signature treatment might be defined by a certain degree of contrast, very slight tweaks to the colour palette or a certain something that is hard to define. The last part of the editing process is strictly artistic in nature and gives editors the opportunity to merge client requirements with personal taste, while at the same time reinforcing a sense of consistency across the entire set of images. It is the part of the process that is hardest to quantify, and what likely drew clients towards hiring their photographer in the first place.

In the end, architectural photography is much more than simply capturing a building. It is a careful balance of technical skill, thoughtful judgement, and artistic expression, both behind the camera and at the computer. Every image you see reflects countless decisions made to balance visual truth with aesthetic clarity. While the camera captures everything indiscriminately, our minds do not. Photo editing bridges this gap, subtly removing distractions to mirror how we experience space. Understanding this process helps us appreciate not only the finished photograph, but also the craft and care that goes into creating an image that tells the story of a building and the people who interact with it.

^{While preferred, tidying busy public spaces isn’t always possible (Tupuanuku by Jasmax).}

^{Bathroom elevations often require the removal of the camera. From left: Spotswood Shed by Linetype Architectural; Esplanade House by Linetype Architectural; Shark House by First Light Studio.}

About

Dennis Radermacher is an architectural photographer and founder of Lightforge. He has been creating images for architects throughout New Zealand for over a decade. When he is not editing images, you can find him in his workshop building furniture or losing himself in the mountains.

Web: www.lightforge.co.nz

Insta: @lightforge