Thirty-five years ago, nestled deep within Industrial Light & Magic—the special effects braintrust behind Star Wars—a quiet revolution was brewing. It wasn’t the Millennium Falcon or even the lightsaber; it was a humble software program, initially designed to manipulate scanned images. That program became Adobe Photoshop. Today, celebrating its 35th anniversary, Photoshop stands as both a testament to innovation and a cautionary tale about corporate greed strangling creativity in an endless cycle of subscription fees and bloated updates.

Episode I: The Phantom Innovation

In 1987, John Knoll, a young ILM visual effects wizard, faced a challenge: how could he digitize and manipulate photographic effects seamlessly? Alongside his brother, Thomas Knoll, a computer engineer working at the University of Michigan, he began crafting a tool to digitally alter scanned photos. Their goal was simple yet profound—create images that defied the laws of physics and filmmaking without leaving any fingerprints.

Their fledgling software, first whimsically dubbed “Display,” rapidly transformed into something much bigger. Within ILM’s secretive studios, Knoll’s tool breathed digital life into groundbreaking effects for The Abyss and Terminator 2, redefining what visual storytelling could be. Soon, Adobe saw the potential, bought the license in 1988, and released “Photoshop 1.0” officially in 1990, forever changing photography, graphic design, and publishing.

Photoshop didn’t just change the rules; it obliterated them. Suddenly, reality could be bent, shaped, and enhanced, ushering in the age of digital media dominance. Photographers, designers, advertisers, and eventually everyone else needed it. Like Kleenex or Google, Photoshop quickly became synonymous with digital image editing itself.

But as Photoshop evolved, it became more than just a handy tool—it became indispensable. It didn’t just reshape images; it reshaped entire industries.

Episode II: Attack of the Industry Clones

Throughout the 1990s and early 2000s, Photoshop became the creative industry’s North Star. Magazine covers, advertisements, and even Hollywood itself leaned heavily on Adobe’s software. By the early 2000s, “photoshopped” entered the global lexicon, becoming shorthand for anything digitally manipulated. Photoshop’s interface set industry standards, its power unmatched. Rivals tried, yet no clone could eclipse Photoshop’s power and cultural cachet.

But dominance breeds complacency. Over the decades, Adobe’s once laser-focused software began to bloat. Photoshop grew packed with redundant, unwanted features in every update, moving away from a creative powerhouse into a software monstrosity burdened by overengineering. What was initially lean and efficient quickly ballooned into a convoluted menu maze, a Frankenstein’s monster of features added less for functionality than marketing splash.

The Adobe of today is starkly different from its innovative origins. Once guided by engineers, artists, and visionaries, Adobe now appears driven primarily by profits, shareholder demands, and quarterly earnings reports. The goal ceased being about improving the user experience; instead, it became extracting every last cent from loyal customers who had no other realistic choice.

Episode III: Revenge of the Subscription

Then, in 2013, came Adobe’s most controversial move yet—the introduction of the Creative Cloud subscription model. No longer could artists and professionals outright buy Photoshop once and keep using it indefinitely. Adobe decided you didn’t actually own your software; you rented it, endlessly, monthly, for perpetuity.

Initially sold as an affordable alternative to huge upfront payments, this model became Adobe’s Trojan horse. Monthly subscriptions began creeping upward, justified by supposed “updates,” yet Adobe’s innovation slowed dramatically. Users started asking: Where were the groundbreaking improvements? Why was the software suddenly lagging, crashing, and causing endless headaches?

The subscription model stripped users of autonomy. Miss one payment, and suddenly your software stopped functioning, holding your creative work hostage. Artists became tenants in Adobe’s digital empire, forced to endlessly feed a corporate landlord whose hunger for revenue was unending.

Meanwhile, software stability deteriorated. The Photoshop of today—despite multiple updates each year—is paradoxically slower and less stable than versions from ten years ago. Bugs multiply. Features bloat. Performance suffers. The software that once revolutionized digital creativity now frustrates its users with crashes, sluggish responses, and baffling UI regressions.

Episode IV: A New Disappointment

Adobe’s priorities shifted blatantly. Rather than refining and stabilizing core functions that built their reputation—speed, reliability, ease of use—Adobe opted for flashy, headline-grabbing features. AI-powered “neural filters” promised magic, but often delivered half-baked gimmicks that neither professionals nor casual users needed. Adobe’s once pristine interface became littered with clunky menus, confusing buttons, and unnecessary prompts designed more to keep subscription dollars flowing than to empower creators.

Moreover, Adobe increasingly chose the path of monopolistic domination. Buying out smaller competitors like Figma to squash innovation before it could threaten their subscription empire, Adobe shifted from a software innovator to a software gatekeeper, stagnating entire creative industries in the process.

Ironically, Photoshop—once built by visionaries working quietly on Star Wars—now seems firmly trapped within its own empire. Creativity became collateral damage to shareholder dividends. Adobe, a company originally built on democratizing creativity, became the corporation that now gatekeeps it behind an endless monthly paywall.

Episode V: The Users Strike Back

Thirty-five years after its creation, Photoshop faces growing backlash from users feeling trapped in Adobe’s monopolistic grip. Competing tools like Affinity Photo, Procreate, Canva, and even open-source options like Krita are gaining traction precisely because they aren’t bogged down by bloated subscription models or incessant bugs.

Many creators feel betrayed by Adobe, longing for a return to simplicity—purchasing software outright, updating only when necessary, and controlling their own creative destiny. Forums and social media increasingly echo with complaints: Why pay indefinitely for software whose usefulness declines every update?

Adobe’s reaction has been predictable—more marketing spin, more empty promises of performance enhancements, and more creative-sounding pricing tiers that ultimately cost the same or more. The message is clear: Adobe no longer listens to the community it built and instead listens primarily to quarterly revenue reports.

Episode VI: Return to Common Sense?

On Photoshop’s 35th anniversary, Adobe stands at a crossroads. The software that once helped revolutionize creativity is now shackled by its subscription model, a victim of corporate greed masquerading as progress. The innovative spirit that John and Thomas Knoll nurtured at ILM feels distant and almost mythical compared to today’s reality.

Adobe has a choice. It could listen again to its users and prioritize stability, performance, and genuine innovation, or it could continue prioritizing profits and risk driving loyal customers toward more affordable, leaner competitors.

For now, though, Photoshop remains a powerful, if increasingly frustrating, legacy of how innovation can turn sour when profit motives outweigh creativity. From Star Wars’ groundbreaking origins to today’s subscription-driven nightmare, Photoshop’s story serves as a stark reminder: even the most groundbreaking software can become a victim of its own success if profit overtakes purpose.

Happy 35th, Photoshop. Now, can we please stop paying rent to use software that gets worse with every update?