For many in the photography world, post-processing and image compositing are accepted practices, often essential for achieving a desired artistic vision. However, a point of contention arises when artists are not transparent about the extent of manipulation in their work. This discussion is particularly relevant when considering the work of Peter Lik, a name synonymous with landscape photography and commercial success.
Peter Lik stands as a monumental figure in contemporary photography, renowned for his breathtaking landscapes and unparalleled marketing prowess. He has achieved a level of commercial success that few photographers ever reach. It’s worth noting, for context, that I am personally an admirer of Lik’s work and even own a print of his, specifically #175/950 of “Solace.” Furthermore, as a practicing photographer, I hold no reservations about image compositing or extensive post-processing. Techniques like compositing are often indispensable in genres like landscape and nightscape photography, necessary to overcome technical limitations related to dynamic range, depth of field, and capturing the full scope of a scene in a single frame. Even masters like Ansel Adams, revered for his black and white landscapes, were known for their extensive darkroom manipulation, sometimes dedicating an entire day to perfecting a single print. While purists might advocate for strictly in-camera techniques, the broader photographic community generally acknowledges the validity of post-processing as an artistic tool.
The recent debate surrounding Peter Lik’s photography was reignited by a video segment from Fstoppers, titled “How Fake Is This Photo by Peter Lik?”. In this video, Lee Morris, Patrick Hall, David Strauss, and Mike Kelley dissected Lik’s newly released image, “Moonlit Dreams,” questioning its authenticity. The discussion centered on various photographic principles, including dynamic range, lighting consistency, depth of field, the apparent size of the moon, cloud placement, and even the possibility of the moon being the same one used in another of Lik’s famous photographs, “Bella Luna.” A recurring point of contention in both “Moonlit Dreams” and “Bella Luna” is the seemingly unnatural placement of clouds appearing behind the moon, a detail we will momentarily set aside to focus on another key aspect.
Before delving into the specifics of “Moonlit Dreams,” it’s crucial to revisit the long-standing questions surrounding the authenticity of “Bella Luna,” dating back to 2012. The consensus among many photographic analysts is that “Bella Luna” is undoubtedly a composite image. This in itself isn’t problematic. The issue arises from the narrative Peter Lik has presented about capturing the photograph. He is quoted (paraphrased) describing the moment:
This shot has eluded me my entire photographic career. I searched for days to line up this classic tree with the moon. The golden sphere slowly rose in front of me. I pressed the shutter, a feeling I’ll never forget. The moon, tree, and earth.
This description strongly implies that “Bella Luna” was captured entirely in-camera, a single, decisive moment. However, scientific analysis reveals a fundamental impossibility in this claim. The orientation of the moon in “Bella Luna” defies the laws of physics for a photograph taken in Kodachrome Basin, Utah, the purported location. Specifically, the north pole of the rising moon is positioned at the very top of the image, and the terminator shadow is perpendicular to the horizon. This lunar orientation is physically impossible at the latitude of Kodachrome Basin during moonrise. The physics of the moon’s orbit dictate that such an orientation during moonrise is only achievable at latitudes significantly north of Utah, well into the Arctic Circle.
Lunar Orientation Anomaly: The moon’s orientation in “Bella Luna” is inconsistent with its appearance during moonrise at Kodachrome Basin, Utah, suggesting image manipulation.
Turning our attention to “Moonlit Dreams,” the questions of authenticity persist. Beyond the cloud placement, the sharpness of the moon in relation to its altitude is questionable. When the moon is low on the horizon, the light it reflects travels through a significant portion of Earth’s atmosphere. This atmospheric interference causes refraction, which would typically result in a less sharp image, especially when using a long focal length lens, as would be necessary to capture a large moon. However, for the sake of this analysis, let’s again focus on the celestial mechanics.
Most are familiar with the moon’s phases and its varying apparent size due to its elliptical orbit, leading to “supermoons.” However, the moon also exhibits “libration,” a subtle wobble. This libration, caused by variations in the moon’s orbital speed and its constant rotation, allows us to see approximately 59% of the lunar surface over time, instead of just the fixed 50%.
Furthermore, the moon also appears to “roll” slightly from left to right during its orbit. NASA provides an excellent visual demonstration of these lunar movements on their website. This lunar roll is critical when comparing “Moonlit Dreams” and “Bella Luna.” Due to the combined effects of phases, size variations, and libration, capturing the exact same lunar face in two separate photographs taken at different times and locations is astronomically improbable. Yet, when we compare Peter Lik’s “Bella Luna” and “Moonlit Dreams” and correct for scaling differences, the lunar faces are virtually identical. This near-perfect match strongly suggests that the same image of the moon has been used in both photographs. The statistical probability of capturing the same lunar face by chance in two separate shots is incredibly low, akin to winning the lottery and being struck by lightning on the same day. Even meticulously planning such an alignment would require timing precision measured in seconds.
Lunar Face Consistency: The near-identical lunar features in “Bella Luna” and “Moonlit Dreams,” even after scale correction, strongly indicate the reuse of the same moon image.
Adding to the evidence, the sharpness and edge quality of the moon in “Moonlit Dreams” are also noteworthy. The moon’s edge appears unrealistically smooth and round for such a sharp image. High-resolution lunar photography, even with powerful telescopes, reveals the moon’s limb to be textured and uneven due to mountains and craters. My own lunar photographs, captured with an 8,000mm telescope atop Mauna Kea, Hawaii, demonstrate this bumpy lunar edge. In contrast, Lik’s “Moonlit Dreams” presents a clean, almost digitally smoothed edge, inconsistent with the expected appearance of a genuinely captured, sharp lunar image.
In conclusion, the evidence strongly suggests that the moon featured in both “Bella Luna” and “Moonlit Dreams” was not photographed in situ but rather added in post-processing. While there may well have been a moon present in Lik’s original captures, it is highly probable that the moon we see in the final artworks is a digitally inserted element. Furthermore, the striking similarity between the moons in both images points towards the reuse of the same lunar image, manipulated in “Bella Luna” through scaling and blurring and in “Moonlit Dreams” through shadow brightening to simulate a fuller phase. The “flat” appearance in shadow regions of the “Moonlit Dreams” moon and the absence of shadows in craters, despite it being presented as a nearly full moon, further support this analysis.
Ultimately, photography is an art form with diverse interpretations of what constitutes “right” or “wrong.” The core issue raised by the analysis of Peter Lik’s “Bella Luna” and “Moonlit Dreams” is not the use of compositing or post-processing. Instead, it centers on transparency and honesty. The photographic community and art enthusiasts alike are asking for artists, including Peter Lik and his representatives, to be forthright about their creative processes. Openness about the techniques employed, whatever they may be, is paramount to maintaining trust and fostering genuine appreciation for the art itself.
