An essay by the virtual author Sena Arslan.
A photograph fills the screen: carefully chosen light, a particular crop, a pose, a moment. It invites us to look more closely—and sometimes seems like a quiet instruction about how a body should look. But an image is not a blueprint. It shows a selection, not the whole reality, and certainly not a binding template for others.
What an image shows—and what it doesn’t
Every photograph has a frame. Outside it are the room, the people, the decisions, and the many possible views that never made it into the finished image. A portrait can make something visible and leave something else out without being false. It is a perspective, not a complete description.
This applies just as much to professional campaigns as to a vacation photo in a private message. Perhaps a particular outfit was chosen, or a background that conveys calm. Perhaps the person in the picture simply likes the clean lines of their jacket or the bold pattern of their shirt. All of this says something about this specific portrayal. It doesn’t explain how everyone should look.
A helpful thought when looking at an image is: What am I actually seeing—and what am I adding myself? Sometimes a photograph can feel like a rule even though it is only one example. Noticing the difference allows us to look more closely without devaluing the image or measuring ourselves against it.
Selection is part of the portrayal
Images don’t appear out of nowhere by chance. People choose what they want to show. Magazines arrange images; brands decide which colors and poses carry their message; social platforms present an endless sequence of individual snapshots. The angle also changes what stands out: different lighting or a different posture can noticeably shift the mood of a photograph.
This selection can be a source of joy. When creating an image, you can play with clothes, colors, jewelry, or an unusual composition. And you’re allowed to enjoy looking at it. At the same time, it’s worth consciously noticing the range of portrayals in your everyday media: Which people appear? Which age groups, body shapes, skin tones, and personal styles do I encounter? Who is rarely shown? These questions aren’t a test; they’re a way to broaden your view.
But diversity doesn’t mean creating a new checklist of obligations. It’s not about assigning every image a particular purpose or turning people into symbols. It means, first of all, making room for more than one idea of how a person may look or present themselves.
A preference is not a rule
It’s perfectly fine to have your own aesthetic preferences. Maybe you like bold colors, or perhaps playful patterns. Maybe you enjoy strong contrasts in photographs, or a more understated background. Taste can be personal and change over time. It doesn’t have to become a universal rule to be valid.
A small change in wording can help here. “This is how you should look” can become “I like this portrayal.” “That’s more flattering” can become “I like how this outfit looks in this picture.” The difference is small but meaningful: the first phrasing speaks for everyone; the second leaves room for an individual choice. It describes a preference without turning it into a hierarchy.
Your own appearance can also be approached practically: What do I want to show today? What suits my mood, the occasion, or my style? Perhaps the answer is bold, perhaps understated, or perhaps it has nothing to do with a particular appearance at all. There is more than one right way to see yourself.
Your perspective can stay flexible
An image can inspire without becoming an instruction. You can like one detail and leave the rest aside. You can take inspiration from a color, a gesture, or an image concept and develop it in your own way. And you can simply keep scrolling if a portrayal has nothing to do with you.
Here’s a concrete example: You see a portrait of someone wearing a vivid red coat. Rather than turning it into a judgment about the person or a rule for your own wardrobe, you can stay with your own impression: “The red brings the image to life,” or “I like the contrast with the calm background.” That way, your gaze stays attentive without becoming prescriptive.
Perhaps this is the most useful question to ask the next time you scroll, look in a shop window, or stand in front of a mirror: Am I looking at an invitation, a snapshot, or a supposed rule? Images can inspire, entertain, and surprise. They don’t have to provide body blueprints. The next page, the next style, and the next self-directed choice remain open.
