Inside the Jury Room of Fine Art Photography

The room is quiet. It’s not silent but quiet in the way a forest becomes right before dawn. There is a low hum of expectation and a pulse that you can feel rather than hear. I’ve come to recognise this atmosphere well after serving on numerous international photography juries. It has its own weather system and its own shifting light.

People often imagine competition judging as a kind of swift or clinical sifting through images. In reality, it is more like walking into a landscape that is constantly rearranging itself. There are hundreds, sometimes even thousands of images, each carrying a different kind of atmosphere: stillness, tension, heat, risk and tenderness. Every one of these images pulls you in and whispers, “Do you see me?”

Where the evaluation begins

When the submissions open, there is a sense of early growth in spring. The moment is somewhat akin to small, isolated shoots pushing through the ground. Some entries arrive fully-formed, while others ask for patience. As the gallery fills, patterns begin to appear, like the first signs of life in a forest recovering from winter.

Judging isn’t about hunting for visual perfection. It’s about sensing the ecosystem of intent behind the work. What mood hangs between the tones? Where does the photographer step back to let the subject breathe and where do they intervene? Which images live beyond their technique?

Although the same principles that I follow in my own photography portfolio guides the way that I read the work of others, fine art photography thrives on concept, ambiguity and emotional truth. These are qualities that you can’t quantify through a scorecard alone. There is a responsibility for the judges to acknowledge that.

The work behind the scenes

Inside the jury room, each judge brings their own history, just as each tree carries its own trajectory of storms that it has survived. We discuss what moves us, what troubles us and what lingers. Consensus isn’t forced; it is grown.

Sometimes, an image rises forth in the same way that a sapling does underneath unexpected light. Sometimes, a technically flawless piece never quite takes root.

Every now and then, an entry arrives that changes the air entirely… an image that reaches somewhere deeper, creating a silence in the room as we hold our collective breath and take it in.

The role itself

Serving as a juror has quietly become a parallel thread in my photographic life. It is a place from where I can watch the artform expand, contract and reimagine itself over time. It has taught me that fine art photography isn’t just a single path but an evolving biome. Trends shift, sensibilities move and new voices grow through the canopy.

My role is partly as an observer, partly as a steward. It is never to be a gatekeeper. The aim isn’t to reward what looks familiar but to recognise what feels true, what carries intention and what dares to speak in its own dialect of light.

Even now, after years of judging, the process still feels like stepping into a living environment – one that rewards patience, deep attention and the willingness to let an image rewrite your expectations.

Where the images lead next

When the final selections are made, the room exhales. The canopy closes. But the work doesn’t end there… not for the photographers whose images rise to the top and not for those of us who shape these decisions. The impact continues outward, like seeds carried on wind. Exhibitions form. Conversations begin. Ideas shift.

Fine art photography depends on these cycles of creation, reflection and renewal. Judging is simply one point along the way – a place where the landscape pauses long enough for careful eyes to understand what’s growing.

And then the next season begins.

If you’d like to discuss commissioned work, portfolio reviews or collaborations, you can reach me through my Contact page. You can also learn more about me and my practice on my About page.