When Photo Competitions Go Bad

This piece is drawn from a recent episode of The Underwater Photography Show, where we tackled a subject we don't usually dwell on — the darker side of photo competitions. We both love entering contests, debating contests and talking about them on the show, but a couple of things caught our attention recently that reminded us that we must talk about the negatives too: the ethical issues they can raise, the shocking behaviour they sometimes elicite, and the rights-grab pitfalls that can catch photographers off guard.

The Faked Eagle

The first case that came recently was from a YouTube video by topside wildlife photographer Dwayne Patton, who was judging a wildlife photography competition when something about one of the entries didn't sit right with him. The image was of an eagle coming in to land on a tree stump — a beautiful shot with the wings outstretched and a clean background. It was nicely done, and I (Alex) admit that I probably wouldn't have spotted the issue at a glance. But something nagged at Dwayne and he went back to the organisers to flag his concern.

The first alarm bell came when the photographer claimed a computer crash meant he no longer had the raw file and could only provide a DNG — the modern version of the dog ate my homework excuse. That response heightened suspicions, and after an image search online, they found that the eagle in the image had been lifted from a completely different photograph by a completely different photographer — flipped and composited onto the stump. The photographer had apparently gone out and shot a stump to use as a background, then placed someone else's eagle on top of it. What’s striking is how much detective work it took to catch it, which suggests people do get away with it.

The other lesson is that rarely do people caught in these situations back down. In my experience, they almost always double down. I recall an early Wetpixel competition — now known as the DPG Masters — where a photographer submitted a faked raw file. It had the right file extension, but the resolution and aspect ratio were impossible for the camera in question. Even when confronted, the doubling down continued.

My theory on why people do this: they probably start by thinking the image won't go far, that it might just pick up a minor placing and no one will look too closely. Then, if it starts doing well, they find themselves in too deep and keep pushing the lie further. The smarter move, if you ever find yourself in that situation without really intending to be, is to withdraw — you could even say you can't locate the raw file. This would at least, preserve your reputation and teach you a lesson.

Wildlife Photographer of the Year Controversies

The most famous examples of cheating in nature photography competitions come from the highest profile contest: the Wildlife Photographer of the Year. There have been two very well-known cases. The first was a wolf jumping over a fence that won the overall prize, later discovered to be a trained captive animal. The second — and I (Matthew) have to say this is my personal favourite for sheer audacity — was an anteater photographed on a glowing termite mound in Brazil, which won a category award. It turned out to be a stuffed anteater from a museum: someone had taken the taxidermy specimen into a field, photographed it with a long exposure to capture the glow of the insects, and submitted it. The only reason it was discovered is that someone who'd seen the winning image happened to visit that museum and recognised the pose of the stuffed animal.

I (Alex) was actually at the Wildlife Photographer of the Year awards the year the wolf image won, and I remember thinking nothing of it’s illegality at the time. I think that is because when at that level, all of the images are once-in-a-lifetime shots, you get used to accepting the impossible. And that was the first cheat of that type (that we know of) and you go into these things wanting to be amazed, not wanting to put on a cynical hat. These days juries at serious competitions always pause and flag anything that raises alarm bells, but it's an imperfect process.

The anteater cheat was strange in another way, because it was done by a photographer who had a genuine track record of success in international competitions — someone who knew the game well and had won legitimately many times before. The idea that an established photographer would take that risk is a reminder that competition pressure affects people at every level.

The Canadian Geographic Rights Grab

The second issue that prompted this episode came from Andrew McLachlan, a friend of the show, who posted on Facebook about the Canadian Geographic Photographer of the Year competition. Andrew highlighted the fine print, which reads:

Canadian Geographic is a large competition — somewhere in the region of 20,000 submissions a year — with genuinely attractive prizes. But that clause means entering grants them the right to use your images in their calendars, magazines, and other commercial products, with no payment to you. Which is very naughty indeed from the contest.

Matthew admits he has entered plenty of competitions without paying close attention to the small print, and that's probably true of most photographers. A good guide is that if people you respect are entering this it is probably OK, if not, then check the small print extra carefully.

How to Spot a Rights Grab

To give some contests the benefit of the doubt, sometimes the rights grab is an honest mistake. Some new competitions include broad language not to exploit photographers, but simply to protect themselves legally — so they can publish winning images in press coverage without being sued. When challenged, some organisers have responded by saying they had no intention of selling images commercially and had simply copied the language from another competition without thinking it through. Not a very impressive position.

That said, some rights grabs are entirely deliberate. And again, like naughty photographers they tend to double down claiming innocence! And it makes sense for a big publication with multiple spin-off titles to have a strong commercial incentive to run a competition that delivers a massive pool of imagery they can use freely across everything they publish.

The rule of thumb we'd suggest: the competitions worth entering are the ones you hear other photographers — photographers you respect — talking about proudly. If a new competition launches and you don't recognise the names of previous winners, or the photographers you'd expect to enter seem to be giving it a miss, then maybe you should consider that you don’t need another win that badly!

It's also worth remembering that even long-running competitions can change their terms if the organising body is taken over or restructured. Don't assume the rules you read three years ago still apply.

Another Cheeky One: Non-Winners in Print

There's one more situation worth mentioning, which is more of a grey area, yet has annoyed plenty of entrants. A well-respected UK competition publishes an annual book of winners, which is great. But to make the book more substantial, the competition organiser selects additional images — images that weren’t actually awarded or got any commendation — simply because they like them and want to include them. The entry terms do state that the organisers reserve the right to publish submitted images in the results book, but I (Alex) know photographers have been upset to find their image appearing in print without any competitive recognition attached. They can't list it on their CV, can't call themselves a winner or commended entrant, but the image is now publicly published and effectively out there without being a winner. If you believed in that shot and felt unlucky with the judges, you might have wanted to save it for another try next year — with different judges, or in another contest.

The Bottom Line

Competitions are, for the most part, a genuinely enjoyable way to measure yourself against other photographers and push your own standards. We both love entering them and dissecting the results. But they can bring out a dark side in people who lose control of their competitive instincts. And the contests can also lose sight of fair play too — and catch out honest photographers who don’t read the fine print.

If you're ever tempted to submit something dubious: the best-case outcome is a win you know is hollow. The worst case is what happened to the wolf photographer and the anteater photographer — a permanent ban, a public exposure, and the end of a career. Read the terms. Enter honestly. And if you ever realise you've entered something you shouldn't have, the exit door is always better than doubling down.

To watch the full episode, check it out here: