“All art is quite useless.” – Oscar Wilde.
In a way, I agree with this statement, and I believe it to be an important element of creating and/or consuming art. We’re talking about a multi-billion dollar industry, yet art doesn’t nourish our bodies, doesn’t heal us when we’re sick (physically.) It does nothing to better the quality of our lives in any tangible way.
But still, art is an important part of who we are as human beings. I don’t believe there is a person on this planet who doesn’t consume art in one way or another: books, music, movies, etc.
This is why art is difficult to define, because even though I do believe that, from a pragmatic point of view, all art is quite useless, at the same time, art is our biggest achievement; it’s what defines us as individuals, as creatures capable of doing more than just eating and sleeping.
Undoubtedly we’d be more than just animals even if we wouldn’t make art, but isn’t it true that we feel most human when we read a wonderful poem or listen to a brilliant song?
I often talk about the human element in art: that part we always leave behind, the part that makes great art. We leave something behind, we always do.
Because we’re alone.
There are eight billion people in the world right now, most of them living together in huge cities; and it’s been this way for as long as we have existed, but we’ve never acted like a hive of bees. Because we’re unique — and we feel this as the heavy burden of being alone; like being the first one of our kind. And last.
You know there isn’t another one exactly like you, no matter how many billion people there are, you know there will never be, and yet you want to know you’re not alone.
I honestly believe that’s what art is for, and why it’s the most important invention: we make art because we want to know we’re not alone, because only by letting people see inside our heads do we offer them the possibility of feeling like they belong to something much greater than just an individual. Like a single organism. Or an engine. A bunch of parts all working together flawlessly.
I’d like to think about art as being one of those bitter sweet promises … the same as any ideal that united people and made many sacrifice their lives, only this ideal requires that you live in order to enjoy it.
It’s not as great as going to Heaven, or fighting in a war to save your country, or saving another man’s life. It’s not as ambitious as going to the moon and back, or as egotistic as wanting to become the richest man on Earth.
All art is just an illusion, but it’s an illusion we need. Because we’re alone and we want to feel less alone, because we’re mortal, and we want to leave something behind, because we want to change the world and we’re not good enough to change it in any other way than to write a fantastic novel.
Because we want to build something that we can at least hope it will last forever, even if it’s just a lie, a fragile dream.
All art is quite useless. Without it, we wouldn’t die, but we wouldn’t feel quite alive either.