Why I Consider My Photographs Art

I once had a painter tell me she never understood why some photographers called their photographs art. Initially, I wanted to start defending photography as an art form. But her comment made me pause and reflect—what is art? More specifically, why do I sometimes refer to my photographs as art?
Is something art because it’s beautiful or valuable? Or maybe art is simply something that’s created. I know art doesn’t have to be shown to the entire world to be considered art. Every so often, an artist will walk along the beach at low tide, dragging a rake behind them, creating shapes and designs best appreciated from above—knowing full well this art will disappear with the rush of the high tide. To me, that fleeting act is still art because it stirs an emotion.

Is art subjective? Absolutely! I remember the first time I saw a Dodge Viper muscle car. As a high school boy, that machine was art to me. I loved the shape and lines, the speed, and the vibrant red color. Years later, I got to ride in one, and ironically, I wasn’t as impressed. But that initial reaction—that emotional connection—is what art is all about.

As a photographer, I’m often hired to take photos of mundane objects and events that have no personal significance to me. So, when I get the opportunity to create something that feels like art, I get really excited. I especially love working with athletes. These clients have spent countless hours honing their craft and bodies to deliver peak performance. As an artist (there, I said it!) and someone formally trained in computer science, I love applying my unique skills to light, pose, and evoke the best emotions from my clients. When all of these factors come together, art is often the result.

I also love collaborating with other artists to add their passion and skill set to the creative process. This can include hair and makeup artists, costume and set designers, and more. And let’s not forget the ultimate artist—God. Beautiful sunrises and sunsets, with their awe-inspiring natural beauty, are art in its purest form.

Can ugly things be art? Of course. My first vehicle wasn’t a Dodge Viper, but a 20-year-old Dodge pickup truck, whose former life was as a state of Illinois maintenance vehicle. If you looked closely, you could still see patches of safety orange paint where the gray primer didn’t fully cover. But to a 16-year-old boy, this machine was art because it represented something special to me.

Recently, I took a single photo of my 13-year-old son before a photoshoot to check if my lights were set up correctly. I took the photo, glanced at my camera, thanked my son, and dismissed him back to his device. Only when I was reviewing the high school senior photos later did I take a closer look at that image. My son loves his blond, messy hair, and my wife does too. So I took a few moments to edit the image, honing my skills in photo manipulation. I made it black and white, cropped it so the viewer’s attention would be drawn first to his eyes, then to his hair, and finally to the entire image. Yes, I intentionally crafted the photo to guide the viewer’s experience—storytelling 101. I texted it to my wife, and a few seconds later, she replied, “My heart just stopped!”

That, to me, is what art is—something that stirs an emotional connection with the viewer.