Disclose — but what?

Think of two identical wood textures — one from a Blender shader, one from a diffusion model. Both are synthetic, both do the same thing in the image, the viewer can't tell them apart. If one required disclosure and the other didn't, then the process isn't the standard — only the question of which algorithm set the last pixels. That's arbitrary. The methods form a continuum — camera, Photoshop, compositing, CGI, diffusion — and any sharp line drawn through it becomes more artificial the closer you look.

Here one has to move from observation to the legal position — and it's stricter than the argument would prefer. Article 50 has applied since 2 August 2026 and distinguishes two roles. The provider of a model must mark its outputs in a machine-readable way; that affects the manufacturer, not you. For you as a deployer, the obligation applies at publication: anyone who publishes a "deepfake" must disclose that it was artificially generated. And the definition is broader than the word suggests — it covers AI images that resemble real persons, objects, places or events and could appear authentic. Clearly fantastical content (a fire-breathing dragon) falls outside. A photorealistic product or interior shot does not.

For art and "obviously creative" works there is no exemption, only a reduced obligation (disclosure in a way that doesn't disturb the work). This relief is narrow: purely commercial content doesn't benefit, and where informational and creative elements mix, the informational prevails.

Three points not to rely on:

• Open-source models are not exempt.
• A note in terms and conditions or metadata is not enough — the disclosure must be immediately perceptible.
• The fine framework reaches up to 15 million euros or three percent of global turnover.

The important twist: the Act asks whether an image appears real, not whether AI was involved. What it does not support is the convenient conclusion that staged advertising is therefore exempt. It isn't, as soon as it photorealistically claims something real.

There is practically no professional image left without an AI component — Generative Fill in Photoshop, upscaling in Topaz, noise reduction and subject detection in every camera firmware. An obligation triggered by "contains AI" would apply to nearly every commercial photograph, and a rule that applies to everything distinguishes nothing. The effect of cookie banners is well known: when the warning label is everywhere, nobody notices it anymore.

The Act tries to address this with an exception for edits that "do not substantially alter the meaning" — noise reduction stays outside, a car swapped via Generative Fill stays in. The criterion is plausible, but "substantially" remains undefined and contested.

Not whether AI was involved, but what the image makes a claim about — and whether that claim is true. A documentary image asserting a real scene carries a different obligation than an advertising image that visibly stages an ideal world. Photography has always known the boundary between photojournalism and retouching for advertising; the debate is currently reinventing what the profession has long had.