Why Photography Influencers Are Not The Same As Renowned Photographers

I might get myself in hot water for writing this, but it’s an itch I have to scratch. Our times—roughly the last decade—have produced a certain type of photographer, one that has gained significant sway in the photographic world and one that many beginners strive to emulate, hoping to achieve the same status.

I’m alluding to photography influencers, of course.

That is to say, content creators whose primary craft is not photography itself but the production of content about photography. These are the people known for their YouTube videos, Instagram reels, and viral TikToks, where the camera is often pointed as much at themselves as at the subjects they shoot. Their success hinges on engagement metrics, brand deals, and the exploitation of algorithms.

This is unlike the more "classically established" photographers—those whose work speaks for itself, whose names are recognized not because of their presence on social media but because their images have made a lasting impact on the collective mind. These may be widely known figures, but even lesser-known individuals—some with little or no social media presence—can achieve the status of widely respected professionals, with portfolios and contributions that define them.

As Reqy would say : "Follow Ced's IG"

The Difference in Recognition

The distinction isn’t about skill. Many influencers are competent photographers. Some are even masterful in their control of the varying photographic tools and processes. Their recognition in the field however, isn’t based on their images—it’s based on their ability to package, market, and monetize photography as entertainment. A photographer earns their reputation through exhibitions, publications, assignments, or a body of work that influences the industry. An influencer earns theirs by being visible, likable, and prolific in content creation.

This doesn’t make one inherently better than the other, but it does make them fundamentally different. A photographer’s work can stand alone. An influencer’s work, by design, is inseparable from their persona.

A simple way to illustrate this: When you think of a well-known photographer, you likely visualize one of their iconic images. The work is what comes to mind first (heck, you might not even be able to remember what the photographer looks like and this maybe because you've never ever seen their likeness at all). But when you think of a photography influencer, you don’t see a defining image—they usually don’t have one. Instead, you picture their face, their branding, their social media presence. While some may have a recognizable style, subject, or technique they’ve turned into a trademark, their output is more often than not generic and interchangeable, lacking the singular vision that defines great photographers.

The Insecurity of Influence

Recently, I found myself in an exchange with a group of photography influencers, and their reaction to a simple observation was revealing. The conversation began with a discussion about receiving free cameras—something that, understandably, rubs many working photographers and hobbyists the wrong way. While influencers argue that they work hard to reach a stage where brands give them expensive gear, the frustration from the broader photography community isn’t about effort. It’s about legitimacy. What makes it worse is the tone-deafness that often accompanies this success. Many influencers also flaunt a lifestyle that is completely detached from the financial realities of most people. They post lavish travel vlogs—cosplaying as the explorer-photographers of the end of the 19th century—boast about sponsorship deals, and unbox high-end equipment while insisting they are just like their audience; hustling, grinding, and "putting in the work." Yet, when questioned about the fairness of their advantages, they often respond with either condescension or outright defensiveness, as if their status were solely the result of merit rather than an algorithm-driven popularity contest.

To be blunt: influencers thrive in an attention economy that rewards personality, engagement, and the ability to sell a lifestyle. Photographers thrive in a world that values impact, originality, the depth of their imagery and, in some cases, the social usefulness of their work (think documentary photographers). When influencers conflate their grind with traditional photographic recognition, it almost invariably exposes an insecurity, an underlying need to justify their position.

Because deep down, they know the difference too.

Humility and Perspective

None of this is to say that photography influencers don’t work hard. They do. Filming, editing, and building an audience is a thankless job. However, the reaction I encountered made it clear that influencers see any critique of their status as an attack rather than a simple acknowledgment of differing paths. Instead of engaging with the broader implications of their role in photography culture, their response was defensiveness—an almost desperate need to prove that their recognition is earned in the same way as traditional photographers.

It isn’t. And that’s okay.

That said, a little more humility would go a long way—an understanding that visibility is not the same as mastery, that popularity is not the same as artistry, and that just because people question the nature of their influence, it doesn’t mean they’re jealous. It means they’re asking what it actually means to be a photographer in an era where clout often outweighs craft.

That should be a discussion worth having—assuming, of course, that people are still capable of having such discussions. Seeing the state of social media and the general trends in human behavior though, I'm afraid I must concede that I'm not very optimistic.

If you are interested in the topic of social media's effect on photography and human behavior, may I suggest this previous article that I wrote about mass tourism