The book at this desk stays closed, its cover blank, and that is a deliberate lesson kept in view all day: a handsome cover documents nothing. Studios confuse the two crafts at their peril and end up with gorgeous frames of the wrong woman — beautifully bound, entirely undocumented.
The card is the documentation. Its five lines are measurements, written plainly, without adjectives doing the work of facts. “Elegant” is decoration; “hair in a smooth low ponytail” is documentation. Prompts inherit the same discipline: the card paragraph is kept factual and pasted verbatim, and all the poetry is confined to the changing line, where it can do no harm.
Judging follows the same split. A frame is first read as a document — does it match the card, line by line? Only frames that pass as documents are then admired as decoration, and only those are repaired, swapped or upscaled.
Keep the book closed and the records true. The desk is honest about which of its objects is which, and the work is better for it.