How the Australian Photographic Industry is Eating Itself
This probably won’t make me popular—and I’m okay with that. I’ve been around long enough to know that telling the truth, especially about an industry as tightly wound and egocentric as ours, doesn’t win you favours. But it needs to be said: the Australian photographic industry is eating itself from the inside out.
It’s not dying from a lack of talent. It’s dying because it refuses to evolve.
I’ve been trying new things, and I believe that initiatives like my digital magazine, ONLINE, reaching out and building briefs directly for brands, and organising trips are my path forward. I’m not afraid to admit that many of the problems referenced are ones I face too. And I will likely be ostracised for saying the quiet part out loud, but someone has to.
1. The Rise of the Assistant Class
This trend isn’t new, but it’s accelerating. I am a third-generation photographer and started as an assistant, so if anyone knows this truth, it’s me.
One of the more notable shifts in recent years is the way commercial clients have quietly replaced high-end photographers with their assistants. And while I’m not here to dismiss the talent of assistants—many of whom are excellent—it’s worth asking: why aren’t we seeing more fresh, independent names booked?
The answer is simple. This isn’t about discovering new voices. It’s about convenience, cost, and control. Big-name photographers have built reputations and rate cards that are unsustainable for brands on shrinking budgets. So, rather than seeking out original thinkers, the industry promotes the closest replica at a cheaper rate: the assistant: less risk, less pushback, same lighting setup.
What you end up with is a workforce trained to imitate, not innovate.
2. The Industry Rewards Familiarity, Not Excellence
Let’s call it what it is: the industry is built on favours, not merit. Shoots get booked based on relationships, not creative outcomes. Entire campaigns are produced by people who haven’t pushed themselves in years, but continue to book jobs because they’re “easy to work with” and keep the budget low.
People are working at the highest levels in this country who haven’t shot anything worth remembering in a decade. However, they generate revenue, so everyone looks the other way. And the younger generation sees that—so they stop experimenting too. What’s the point?
It’s a closed loop. And it’s getting tighter.
3. Creativity is Replaced with Copying
I’m guilty of this too: looking at what works and trying to reverse-engineer it. But the difference is, I try to look deeper—beyond Instagram, Pinterest, or the same ten Tumblr accounts we’ve all mined for years. Most people don’t. Buy a few books, some magazines from before 2001, stuff that was never digitised!
Everyone’s work is starting to look the same. Same beach. Same bikini. Same colour grade. Same poses. It’s not just repetitive—it’s boring.
Visual research has become surface-level. Real referencing—the kind that involves books, archives, films, and history—is rare. And because most people only draw from the same shallow pool of inspiration, everything we make starts to feel algorithmically generated.
4. Better Work is Being Made Outside Australia
In my niche—swimwear, editorial, lifestyle—some of the best work isn’t coming out of Australia at all. It’s emerging from Bali, Hawaii, Barcelona and other international hubs where new people, new perspectives, and lower costs constantly replenish creative communities.
Places like Canggu and Oahu are becoming incubators for ideas, not just because of the scenery, but because of the diversity of the creators. They attract talent from everywhere. It’s not all locals. It’s a creative soup, and the output reflects that.
In contrast, Australia is shrinking inward. Tighter budgets, closed circles, fewer risks. It shows in the work.
5. Queensland is the Cautionary Tale
Queensland, in particular, is the starkest example of what happens when a creative community cannibalises itself. After the legal fallout between Que Models and Saint Management made headlines, the dominoes started falling. Agencies lost trust. Models jumped ship. Work started drying up.
Now? Most of the good work has moved south—or overseas.
I was asked to shoot a campaign in Byron last year. They sent references. When I explained the costs, they picked someone who charged 1/8th of what I would, and it showed. It wasn’t money I was trying to get for myself, but for pre-production, location, styling, props, and the team that would bring the idea to life. The photographer who landed the job, along with the references and what they delivered, was shockingly subpar.
When was the last time you saw something from our northern counterparts that made you want to go there?
What’s left is a scene that feels tired and directionless. It’s a hard truth, but the Queensland scene hasn’t recovered. The same models are doing the same shoots with the same photographers, and it all looks like a discount version of what we’ve seen a hundred times before. It’s not evolving. It’s a xerox, of a xerox, of a xerox. So faded, you’d forget you even saw the photos.
6. Sydney’s Next
Don’t get too comfortable, Sydney. You’re not far behind.
The cost of living has made production nearly impossible without serious backing. And while we do attract more international talent, we’re not doing much to develop our own language—our own visual identity. We copy Los Angeles badly—same rates, same trends, none of the culture or infrastructure.
We’re a poor man’s LA. All of the costs. None of the magic.
The Hard Truth
If we want to fix this, we have to get honest. We need to stop protecting egos, start prioritising new voices, and—most of all—make work that’s worth remembering.
I’m saying this not because I’m bitter. But because I love this industry, and I want it to survive.
However, it won’t if we continue like this.
If you think I’m just being a grumpy old man, here are my references:
