Philosophy: Can art be objectively critiqued?

The Argument for Yes

Despite the allure of the idea that beauty is purely subjective, there are some very solid reasons to believe that aesthetic judgments are not merely the result of personal whims or cultural trends but are grounded in real, objective truths. Art is not just an exercise in individual taste; it is a reflection of universal human experience, and its value can be assessed in ways that transcend personal opinion.

First, let’s address the foundational issue: are there objective facts about art? The answer is yes, because there are characteristics of art that can be measured, analyzed, and evaluated against established standards that reflect shared human sensibilities. A painting’s composition, use of color, form, and technique are not merely matters of taste; they can be assessed according to how well they achieve certain artistic goals. For example, the balance in a classical painting like The Last Supper is not just a subjective “I like it” reaction; it is the result of deliberate design choices that produce a sense of harmony, order, and emotional resonance. While different people might react to it in different ways, the technical mastery behind it can still be identified as an objective fact.

Consider the work of artists like Leonardo da Vinci or Michelangelo. Their techniques—especially their mastery of perspective, anatomy, and light—can be objectively evaluated by anyone who is capable of understanding these artistic principles. Sure, someone may find their works overhyped, but that’s a different conversation about personal taste and historical context. The fact remains: the use of chiaroscuro (light and shadow) in da Vinci’s Mona Lisa or the anatomical precision in Michelangelo’s David is not just a “cultural consensus” but an application of well-understood principles that produce specific, measurable effects. It’s possible to demonstrate why these works are considered masterpieces, based on the real-world effects of their techniques.

This leads to an important distinction: not all judgments about art are purely emotional or arbitrary. In the same way we recognize objective facts about music (e.g., a piece of music may be technically more complex than another), we can recognize that certain qualities of art are more refined or sophisticated than others. A student of art history can point to aspects of a painting that make it technically superior or culturally more significant. For example, a painting’s depth of emotion, use of color to convey atmosphere, or its thematic relevance to the human experience can be judged in terms of how well these elements are executed. Art, at its best, reflects universal truths about human experience, which means there are ways to measure its power and resonance beyond the immediate personal reactions of viewers.

The example of Rothko’s work, often dismissed as “just color blocks” by those uninitiated in the nuances of abstract expressionism, actually demonstrates how important it is to separate subjective preference from objective analysis. The objective facts about Rothko’s work are evident in how he uses color to evoke specific emotional responses, creating a meditative space that influences the viewer’s emotional state. The idea that Rothko is nothing more than “splotches” misses the deeper, structured purpose behind his compositions. People might not like it, but they’re missing the intention and the craft. There’s a distinction between not liking something and misunderstanding what the artist is trying to do.

The distinction between good and bad art can be hard to pin down, but the distinction is nonetheless real. For instance, The Room is often described as “so bad it’s good,” but that doesn’t mean it’s good art. It’s a trainwreck of poor acting, awkward dialogue, and disjointed plotlines. The fact that it’s entertaining in a “so bad it’s good” way doesn’t change the fact that it’s objectively poorly made. If you apply established principles of filmmaking—coherence, pacing, dialogue, character development—it fails on all counts. The Godfather, on the other hand, is considered a masterpiece because it excels at all these criteria. The objectivity comes from the fact that, across cultures and centuries, certain aspects of storytelling and filmmaking are universally understood to be effective or powerful. When people call The Godfather objectively great, they’re acknowledging the universal appeal of its structure and execution, not merely some arbitrary “taste” or “fashion.”

In this way, aesthetic judgments share some commonalities with moral judgments. Sure, people disagree on ethics, but we can still agree that certain actions—say, genocide or slavery—are universally wrong. Similarly, while people may disagree on which works of art are “best,” there are still objective standards that help us separate the truly great from the mediocre. We don’t stop at saying, “Well, I just didn’t like it,” when discussing the moral wrongness of slavery; we make broader claims about the inherent wrongness of the practice. Likewise, we can make broader claims about why certain works of art are objectively better, grounded in principles of form, execution, and emotional resonance.

Moreover, cultural context doesn’t negate objectivity. While it’s true that art exists within specific historical, cultural, and social contexts, that doesn’t mean there’s no room for objective analysis. Just as we can recognize the political, social, and cultural influences on a piece of writing or a historical event without dismissing its factual significance, we can approach art with an awareness of its context while still identifying inherent qualities that transcend its specific moment in time. A piece of Nazi propaganda may have been created in a totalitarian context, but the objective analysis of its visual and rhetorical qualities can still be made. Similarly, we can appreciate the art of oppressive regimes while acknowledging that the context of its creation doesn’t diminish its intrinsic aesthetic value.

Finally, experts and critics matter. As much as we like to claim that all opinions are equal, we recognize that expertise plays a crucial role in making objective judgments about art. Just as we trust a doctor to diagnose a disease based on years of study and training, we also trust trained critics, curators, and artists to provide informed assessments of what works and what doesn’t in art. These experts don’t just rely on their personal feelings—they rely on a deep understanding of artistic traditions, techniques, and cultural history to guide their judgments. The more one knows about art, the more they can appreciate the nuanced aspects that make it valuable, and the more they can recognize the qualities that elevate it beyond personal preference.

To conclude, beauty can be objective. There are universal standards for measuring artistic merit, even if they are sometimes elusive. Art is not just about how it makes us feel in the moment, but how it resonates with timeless principles of structure, technique, and emotional depth. While personal opinion will always play a role in how we experience art, this does not undermine the reality of objective truths that we can identify and evaluate. Art has intrinsic value, and that value can be assessed in ways that transcend mere preference or fashion. It’s not just about what you like—it’s about what’s truly great.

The Cynical Perspective

The notion that we can ever be right about art, that we can state with certainty what is objectively “beautiful,” is a comforting illusion. It’s like insisting that one day, someone will measure a painting and confirm the exact number of “units of beauty” it contains—as though beauty could ever be quantified like the height of Mount Everest. How charmingly absurd.

First off, let’s be real: when we say something is “good art,” what we’re really doing is making a statement about our preferences, which, let’s face it, are often shaped by cultural trends, social pressure, or sheer uncritical herd mentality. When a critic praises a painting for its “composition,” “technique,” and “use of color,” they’re just pointing out things that they and their tribe of tastemakers have been trained to value. But the fact that someone trained in this art-critic vocabulary can use it to elevate a piece doesn’t necessarily make that piece objectively better than another. You may have a highly trained ear for opera, but if I’m not into it, I’m not wrong, am I? I’m just not your audience. So much for objective facts.

To make this clearer, let’s consider some real-world examples. Rothko’s paintings, often hailed as profound, are, for many, nothing more than splotches of color. The fact that Rothko’s work is taken so seriously by the art establishment doesn’t make it objectively better than a child’s finger painting. You might be able to point to “composition” or “symbolism” as reasons why Rothko’s art resonates with certain audiences, but don’t be fooled: it’s a subjective, almost elitist, judgment wrapped in academic language. At best, it’s a consensus built around an established canon of taste. And let’s not even get started on how art markets determine value. There’s a staggering difference between what’s considered valuable in the art world and what anyone could reasonably call “good” art. A celebrity’s scribble on a napkin can fetch millions because of its context, its brand, and, yes, its “objective” connection to cultural status. Does it make it objectively valuable, or just ridiculously overpriced?

What about when we argue about things like “ugliness”? Take the architecture of postmodernism, where many buildings—especially those designed in the ‘70s and ‘80s—are often described as eyesores. Are we wrong to call them ugly? Is there an objective standard? If we take away the buzzwords and theory, it’s hard to imagine anyone looking at, say, the Biltmore House and then comparing it to, say, a drab concrete monstrosity and saying, “yep, both equally aesthetically pleasing.” It doesn’t take a genius to see that one is objectively more pleasant to look at, even if it’s considered out of step with modernist ideals.

And here’s the kicker: you can absolutely separate the artist’s personal conduct from their work. We do it all the time. Just look at Picasso—he was a womanizer, a narcissist, and probably a downright terrible person. Yet his work continues to be celebrated as “genius” because, to many, the beauty of his creations is so undeniable that it somehow outweighs his abhorrent behavior. Is this because art is independent of the artist? Or are we just willing to forgive all manner of immorality for the sake of intellectual elitism? Does anyone really believe that his work is so much better than that of someone who doesn’t have a history of treating people like disposable objects? Or are we just willing to accept that some “genius” will always get a pass?

Now, let’s take a step into even murkier waters. Moral judgments are often framed as objective facts. We all agree that some things are immoral, right? Slavery? Genocide? Of course. But how much of that agreement is universally shared? What about cultural relativism—the idea that what’s considered morally acceptable changes from one society to another? If we struggle with moral facts, what makes us think we can so easily establish aesthetic facts? If anything, our aesthetic judgments are even less stable, subject to fashion, trends, and whims that change at the speed of TikTok.

Let’s look at pop culture. We constantly see debates about what movies are “objectively great.” For instance, The Godfather is hailed as a masterpiece. But so is The Room, which is so bad it’s good. Critics and audiences alike can’t seem to agree on whether it’s art or a laughable failure. So, what’s the objective truth here? Is it really about the movie, or is it about how it’s positioned in the cultural conversation?

Do we even want to believe in “objective beauty”? Honestly, what a burden it would be to be forced to justify why one piece of art is objectively better than another. Sure, some people may take comfort in pointing to “objective facts” as some sort of intellectual high ground, but let’s not kid ourselves. When people say, “This painting is beautiful because of the way it uses color,” what they’re often really saying is, “I like it because it fits within the standards I’ve been taught to admire.”

In conclusion, the whole idea that we can know objective truths about art, beauty, or aesthetics is seductive but ultimately unsustainable. The moment you start measuring “value” in art using objective criteria, you’ve already veered into the realm of groupthink, entrenched systems, and arbitrary decision-making dressed up as truth. So maybe the best we can do is admit it: art is a reflection of subjective taste, shifting social norms, and, above all, the emotional highs and lows it sparks within us. And that’s probably as real as it gets.

The Argument for No

The debate over whether there can be objective facts about art or beauty hinges on a fundamental misunderstanding of what art actually is. While people may try to frame art in terms of measurable qualities—such as composition, technique, or symbolism—this overlooks the fact that aesthetic experiences are fundamentally subjective and culturally constructed. Beauty and artistic value, far from being grounded in some universal, objective truth, are instead shaped by personal perception, social context, and historical moment. Here’s why the notion of objective truths about art is not only misguided, but deeply limiting.

1. Art is Subjective by Nature

The first and most obvious point is that art is meant to be experienced subjectively. This is what makes art art—it evokes emotions, thoughts, and experiences that are, by definition, personal. If beauty could be objectively measured in the same way we measure the height of a mountain, then art would lose its essence. A painting, a sculpture, or a film doesn’t simply “do” something—it affects someone in a unique and often unpredictable way. No one, for example, could have predicted how the works of Marcel Duchamp or Jackson Pollock would be received, and yet they were revolutionary precisely because they challenged traditional conceptions of art. Duchamp’s Fountain (a urinal signed with a pseudonym) was a profound statement about what constitutes art—not about achieving some objective beauty, but about questioning the very criteria that define it.

A truly objective standard of art would strip it of its power to provoke and challenge. It would transform creativity into a mechanical checklist of characteristics, dismissing subjective interpretation and unique emotional responses as irrelevant. But the beauty of art is that it defies easy categorization. It exists in the space between individual perception and social context, which means that what is “good” art can vary wildly from one viewer to another. What is considered beautiful or valuable to one person could be dismissed as dull, ugly, or even offensive by someone else. This is not a flaw of art—it’s its core quality.

2. Cultural Relativity and the Changing Nature of Aesthetic Standards

Aesthetic standards are not fixed, and they vary significantly across time and cultures. What is deemed beautiful or valuable in one society may be entirely irrelevant, or even laughable, in another. Just look at the way artistic preferences have shifted over centuries. The rigid classical standards of the Renaissance, focused on symmetry and idealized human forms, have given way to the chaos of modernist abstraction, which has in turn inspired the even more fragmented and disorienting postmodern art. If art were an objective truth, these shifts wouldn’t make sense. After all, how can something be objectively “beautiful” if our standards for what is considered beautiful change so radically over time?

Moreover, the cultural context in which a piece of art is created is just as important as the piece itself. An artwork created in the context of the Italian Renaissance is embedded with a set of assumptions and cultural meanings that may be completely lost on a modern viewer, or someone from a completely different cultural background. Just as morality is often understood as a social construct rather than an objective fact, so too are aesthetic judgments inherently tied to social and cultural dynamics. What’s “good art” today may not be tomorrow, and it may have been inconceivable in the past.

3. The Role of Personal Experience and Taste

While art critics and experts may use terminology like “composition,” “technique,” and “use of color,” it’s important to recognize that these aren’t objective measurements—they are interpretive tools. The argument that critics can “objectively” determine what’s good art often relies on a kind of elitist gatekeeping. Yes, critics may have a deeper understanding of certain artistic techniques or historical context, but even their assessments are deeply influenced by their own personal preferences, biases, and cultural frameworks. No critic, no matter how learned, can remove their subjectivity from their judgment. The idea of objective beauty in art often collapses into consensus-driven judgments made by a small group of people—those with the most power in the art world, who set the terms of what is considered valuable.

Even artists themselves aren’t immune to the influence of personal bias. Consider how much an artist’s own emotional state, worldview, or identity shapes their work. Art is a reflection of the artist’s subjectivity, and no one is capable of completely detaching their experiences and emotions from the work they create. Therefore, when we talk about art as though it can be objectively assessed, we ignore the fact that our own perceptions of it are just as subject to influence as those of the artist.

4. Art’s Impact Doesn’t Depend on Objectivity

While it’s true that some people might argue that “objective” qualities of art—like technical skill—can be measured, this approach ignores the fact that art’s impact is often independent of its technical proficiency. The cult of the genius artist, who has mastered all the rules of painting, sculpture, or filmmaking, is precisely what leads us to elevate works of questionable or shallow value (such as, say, an overhyped blockbuster or a sterile, lifeless museum piece) as “great” simply because they conform to certain norms or have established prestige. The history of art is littered with works that initially received scorn, only to be celebrated centuries later. Think of the initial dismissal of Van Gogh’s work during his lifetime, or the shock at the first viewings of Picasso’s Les Demoiselles d’Avignon. If art were objectively measurable, these radical breaks from convention would never have had the power to transform the artistic landscape.

Take The Room, which has already been mentioned. Yes, it’s “objectively” bad in the sense that it fails at many technical levels. But what’s interesting is that its failure is precisely what makes it valuable—it’s an artifact of human imperfection and aspiration. The fact that it has achieved a cult status is indicative of the subjectivity at the core of art’s value. Its “badness” is what resonates with its audience, and that’s a completely legitimate form of artistic expression, even if it falls short by any objective standard.

5. The Elitism of Objective Art Criticism

Let’s not be naive: the idea of “objective” art is often a tool for cultural elites to maintain their power. It’s not surprising that the same people who claim to have the authority to judge art in terms of “objective” beauty are often the ones with the most institutional power in the art world. We’ve all seen how the market, galleries, and critics work together to elevate certain works and artists to an almost untouchable status, while others are dismissed. This isn’t a natural or inherent feature of art—it’s the result of power structures within the art world that favor certain types of work over others. The very concept of objectivity is bound up in this system, and often serves to reinforce hierarchies that value one form of art over another. There’s no reason to believe that these structures are grounded in universal truths about beauty; rather, they’re based on cultural norms that change over time.

6. The Value of Art Lies in its Subjective Power

Finally, the argument for subjective beauty doesn’t need to discount the value of art. In fact, it highlights why art is so powerful. Art can speak to us in ways that transcend the limitations of objectivity because it engages with our emotions, experiences, and social contexts. Rather than forcing ourselves into the limiting framework of “objective” standards, we should embrace the beauty of art’s subjectivity. After all, what’s more thrilling: a set of arbitrary criteria that tells you what is objectively beautiful, or the boundless freedom to engage with art on your own terms, shaped by your own experiences, history, and emotions?

Using ducks as examples

For Objective Facts About Art (Using the Duck Example):

Technical Evaluation: The duck painting can be assessed objectively for its technical execution, such as anatomical accuracy, shading, and composition. These aspects can be measured and judged based on established artistic standards.
Symbolism and Universality: The duck may carry universal symbolic meanings (e.g., resilience or tranquility), which could be recognized across cultures, making its aesthetic value somewhat objective.
Art as Communication: The artist’s success in conveying their message through the depiction of the duck can be evaluated, making the artwork’s value measurable in terms of how effectively it communicates to viewers.

Against Objective Facts About Art (Using the Duck Example):

Subjectivity of Perception: A duck painting may be viewed differently by each person depending on personal experiences, emotions, and cultural background. Beauty is subjective and cannot be universally defined.
Cultural Context: The symbolism of the duck may vary across cultures, meaning its aesthetic value isn’t objective but depends on the viewer’s context and associations.
Emotional Response: The emotional reaction to art is deeply personal. A painting of a duck could evoke nostalgia or discomfort depending on an individual’s past experiences, further showing the subjective nature of beauty.
Bad Art Can Still Be Valued: Even a poorly executed duck painting could be valued for its emotional impact or for challenging artistic conventions, demonstrating that beauty cannot always be measured objectively.

The Case for Objectivity in Art, Using a Duck as Example:

When considering the concept of objectivity in art, we can use a duck to demonstrate how some aspects of beauty or aesthetic value might transcend personal opinion. Imagine an artist paints a beautiful, lifelike duck, capturing its texture, posture, and natural surroundings with technical precision. From a certain perspective, this duck—let’s say the painting is hyper-realistic—can be assessed in terms of its adherence to established artistic standards: anatomical accuracy, light manipulation, and color composition.

Objective Evaluation of Technique: A viewer might objectively evaluate this painting for its technical execution. The artist may have used shading and texture to create the illusion of soft feathers on the duck’s body, or perhaps captured the reflection of light off water with such skill that it feels almost photographic. The ability to judge how well the artist has captured these elements is not merely a matter of personal taste—it’s a recognition of the artist’s adherence to traditional techniques and a shared understanding of visual art. The fact that the duck’s reflection in the water is crisp and precise could be assessed as better (or worse) than a poorly executed version where the reflection is murky or indistinct.
The Duck as Symbol: Even beyond the technical execution, one could argue that the symbolic representation of the duck in art might have a certain universality. Ducks appear in many cultures as symbols of resourcefulness, adaptability, or even tranquility. An artwork depicting a duck might tap into these universal associations, and therefore its symbolic significance could be recognized and evaluated objectively. If the artist uses the duck as a metaphor for resilience, for example, it may resonate universally, transcending individual opinion and evoking a deeper meaning that is independent of one’s personal experiences or biases.
Art as Communication: When an artist paints a duck, they are attempting to communicate something—whether it’s about nature, identity, or a more abstract concept. If the artist succeeds in communicating this message clearly and effectively, the painting’s value may be judged objectively. The way the duck is portrayed could influence how well the message is received by a broad audience, even if people from different cultural backgrounds or walks of life interpret it differently. The artist’s success or failure in conveying their idea could be measured, making the evaluation of the artwork more than just an individual’s emotional reaction.

The Case Against Objectivity in Art, Using a Duck as Example:

On the other hand, we might argue against the idea that there are objective facts about art, using the duck as an example of how deeply subjective our aesthetic experiences can be.

Subjectivity of Perception: One person might look at the painting of a duck and see a masterful rendering of nature, while another might find it lifeless and overly technical. The notion that the depiction of a duck could ever be universally “beautiful” or “meaningful” ignores the vast differences in how people perceive and engage with art. Perhaps someone has a strong aversion to ducks or finds them comical, in which case the painting, no matter how technically accomplished, would not have the same impact. The judgment that this artwork is “good” or “bad” is shaped by personal experience, mood, and even cultural conditioning. The idea that there is some universal truth about what makes this duck painting “great” falls apart when you consider how subjective human perception really is.
Cultural Context and Symbolism: While the duck might be a symbol of tranquility in one culture, it might have very different meanings in another. In some cultures, ducks are seen as unclean or associated with negative traits. This variance in interpretation suggests that the value of a duck painting isn’t intrinsic or objective but is subject to cultural beliefs and personal associations. The duck may be beautiful to one person but revolting to another, depending on their background or cultural lens. Art, therefore, is inseparable from these subjective experiences, and beauty is not some independent fact of the world but a reaction shaped by context.
Emotional Response to Art: The emotional responses art evokes are subjective and deeply tied to individual experiences. A person who had a joyful childhood spent by the pond watching ducks might feel a sense of nostalgia when viewing the painting, while someone who associates ducks with a traumatic event, like being attacked by one as a child, might have a negative reaction. The same painting might inspire happiness in one viewer and discomfort in another. The emotional content of art, which often plays a key role in our judgment of it, cannot be objectively measured. The act of enjoying or appreciating a duck painting is inherently tied to personal experience—there are no facts about beauty here, only feelings.
The Duck as “Bad Art”: Perhaps a duck painting is, by some objective standard, poorly executed—too exaggerated, too abstract, too crude. But does that mean it’s “bad art”? A painting that features a surreal, distorted duck could still provoke powerful emotions or thoughtful reflection, even if it doesn’t meet conventional artistic standards. It might be purposefully unconventional or intentionally discordant, using the duck as a tool to challenge viewers’ expectations or provoke them into questioning their own perceptions of beauty. To call it “bad” based on technical considerations alone ignores the possibility that the painting is fulfilling a different artistic or emotional goal. Beauty, in this case, can’t be measured by any universal rule—it’s about the individual experience of the work.

Objective Facts About Art

An objective fact is something that is true regardless of individual perspectives, emotions, or cultural context. In the case of art, there are aspects that can be measured or evaluated objectively:

Technical Characteristics:
- Materials: A fact about art could be the materials used to create it. For example, we can objectively verify that a painting was created with oil paints on canvas, or that a sculpture was made from marble. These are straightforward, verifiable facts.
- Composition and Technique: One could argue that certain technical aspects of a piece of art, such as its composition (balance, symmetry, use of light and shadow), are measurable or at least analyzable by experts. These aspects can be evaluated with a certain degree of objectivity—experts can identify whether an artist adhered to or departed from certain conventions, like the use of perspective or proportion.
Historical Facts:
- Facts about the creation of the artwork itself (e.g., when it was made, by whom, and under what circumstances) are objective. For example, it is a fact that Guernica was painted by Pablo Picasso in 1937 in response to the bombing of the Spanish town of Guernica during the Spanish Civil War.
Cultural Significance:
- While the emotional response to a piece of art might vary from person to person, one could argue that there are objective facts regarding the cultural significance of certain works. For example, the fact that Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa is one of the most famous paintings in the world, or that a particular artwork played a pivotal role in an artistic movement (like the role of Les Demoiselles d’Avignon in the development of Cubism), is an objective historical fact.

Subjective Facts About Art

While certain aspects of art can be objectively verified, the emotional and aesthetic experience of art is inherently subjective. This means that personal taste, emotional reaction, and cultural context play a huge role in how art is experienced.

Aesthetic Value:
- This is the most contentious area. Aesthetic value is often seen as inherently subjective—what one person finds beautiful, another may find ugly or banal. For example, a painting of a duck might be celebrated by one viewer for its technical skill, while another viewer might find it kitschy or uninteresting. There’s no universal or objective way to measure aesthetic pleasure, as this depends on the individual’s emotional responses, preferences, and even their cultural background.
Interpretation:
- Art is open to multiple interpretations. A viewer might see deep political commentary in a piece, while another may see it simply as a decorative object. These interpretations are subjective, and no single interpretation can be deemed objectively correct. In this sense, the “meaning” of an artwork is not an objective fact—it’s shaped by personal perception, life experiences, and cultural context.
Emotional Reaction:
- The way a person feels when they view a work of art—whether it moves them, makes them uncomfortable, or leaves them cold—can’t be considered an objective fact. Emotional responses to art are shaped by individual history, mood, and context. For example, a person who has a personal connection to ducks might feel a strong sense of nostalgia from a duck painting, while someone who had a negative experience with ducks might feel repulsed.

Bridging the Gap: Can Art Have Objective Facts?

So, can facts exist about art? Yes, but they are primarily confined to the technical, historical, and contextual elements of art. These objective facts allow us to discuss art in certain ways, such as:

The fact that an artwork exists and can be dated to a particular time period.
The fact that the artist used certain materials or adhered to certain artistic techniques.
The fact that certain artworks have cultural or historical importance.

However, when we move into areas like aesthetic value or interpretation, objective facts become elusive. Beauty is a subjective experience, and art’s emotional or intellectual impact varies widely across individuals and cultures.

Philosophical Considerations:

Philosophers of art have long debated whether objective beauty exists. Some argue that art can be objectively judged based on certain principles (like harmony, proportion, or adherence to tradition), while others assert that beauty is in the eye of the beholder—an entirely subjective experience. The idea of “art criticism” often tries to find a middle ground: critics can argue that certain works are better executed than others in terms of technique or thematic depth, but this does not necessarily mean those works are “objectively” better in all contexts or to all viewers.

Conclusion:

Yes, there are objective facts about art—such as its history, the materials used, and certain technical features.
However, the aesthetic value of art is deeply subjective, shaped by personal preferences, cultural background, and emotional response.
Art contains a blend of both objective and subjective facts: some elements (like materials or technique) are verifiable, while others (like beauty or meaning) are shaped by individual perception.