We Make Art Because We’re Human

On the Value of Art and the Act of Becoming

Take a look at this cave painting. There isn’t much to it. I’m pretty sure we all stenciled our hands onto construction paper like this as kids, cutting them out and turning them into turkeys or monsters or whatever.

It’s fascinating to me that, thousands of years ago, hunter-gatherers took the time to scrape up some soot from the cook fire, load it into a hollow reed, put their hand up against the cave wall, and blow. Because what they left behind is ancient evidence of humans making art.

I like to imagine those early artists stepping back to admire their literal handiwork. What did they think of it? How did it make them feel? They must have been proud their work, because they showed it to their friends. Hey, look what I did.

Look what I made.

Clearly, the first artworks inspired others, because just look. The art project got bigger, turning into a mural. In this same cave, you’ll find other paintings. People, animals, doodles. And what’s really interesting is that in this particular cave, called the Cave of Altamira, the artworks didn’t stop. They went on for twenty thousand years. The murals kept growing, the mediums changing from soot to charcoal to pigments. It became a prehistoric community art project that was likely forgotten and rediscovered over and over again until a rockfall sealed the entrance.  We only rediscovered it again in 1868.

The Cave of Altamira is fascinating, but it’s just one cave of many. We’ve found many caves like it, and it’s impossible to know how much prehistoric art once existed that was erased by the decay of time.

The Instinct of Creation

Art, it seems, is a naturally occurring human instinct. It belongs to no specific culture or time period. We’ve found art that was as ancient to the humans painting in Altamira as the Altamira artists are to us today.  And we won’t even get into how human cultures have independently invented music, dance, and storytelling as artforms as well.

Here’s the thing.  Nobody made cave paintings to become famous. Or to make money. There was no Cave Art Review back in the day. No Prehistoric Etsy to convert art into profit. Art was a waste of time, practically speaking. These people made art because it’s simply a thing humans do. It’s a part of how we express ourselves. How we explore our place in the world. It’s a part of how we collectively come to understand one another.

Over thousands of years, these simple artistic expressions evolved into sketches, and paintings, and sculpture. Into Da Vinci and Van Gogh and Miyazaki. If we had never made hand stencils, there would be no Mona Lisa. No Sistine Chapel. No One Piece.

There is something beautiful about creating for the sake of the creation. Just for the sheer satisfaction of the making, what Vonnegut called the act of becoming.  It’s worth considering for a moment. The process of making is important to us. The results move us.

The Value of Art

Vincent Van Gogh is one of my favorite painters. The story of how he died having never seen success is well known, even inspiring that episode of Dr. Who where the Timelord shows Vincent just how beloved his work became in the end. But the stories of posthumous fame as in the case of Van Gogh or John Kennedy Toole tend to bother me. Because it plays into a common fallacy our modern world tells us about the value of art.

I wrote novels as a hobby for years, and the most common question I was asked about it was always, “When are you going to publish?”

Now that I am published, my friends are quick to make jokes about me becoming a famous author.  Spoilers, I’m not.

But fame isn’t the point of art. Commercial and critical success aren’t the rubric for whether something is “good art” and you certainly don’t have to be a commercial success for the art have value. Art has value on its own. It stands all by itself, without the need for a price tag. Or acclaim. Or 5-Star Reviews.

We have these cave paintings that lasted thousands of years, but they aren’t better art than the ones that didn’t survive. There have been millions of paintings over the centuries that have been forgotten. Some were never circulated beyond a refrigerator door. And that’s perfectly fine. They were still art.

The value of art is intrinsic. The process itself has value, because the simple act of expression is beautiful. The process of creation doesn’t just bring an idea into existence, it actually shapes the creator.

The Act of Becoming

I am a better person because I write. Don’t mistake my meaning - I’m not better than anybody else. I’m just better than the person I was before. The hours spent honing my skills and practicing made me a more competent artist, sure. But the time spent in creation made me more creative, more introspective, more empathetic. I’m no monk, but I’ve spent countless hours hunched over books and keyboards and screens in deep introspection and pondering the nature of the mankind. Seeking truth and beauty, trying to discover meaning amidst the madness of the modern world.

And yes, I know exactly how cheesy that sounds in 2026. But so what? (Come at me) Who is going to roll their eyes and throw shade at truth and beauty? At love and grief, family and friendship? The list of things that really matter in the world is pretty short, and everything on that list is solidly within the domain of the arts.

Music and song lyrics are the soundtrack to our triumphs and heartbreaks. Art.

We understand ourselves better through film and fiction. Art.

We visit cities on vacation and marvel at the architecture. Art. 

We build museums dedicated to, you guessed it, Art. 

Art permeates every era of human culture, so yeah, the artists who strive to create it have to risk being seen as weird or sentimental in their pursuits.

What Makes an Artist?

And, by the way, making art is what makes you an artist. You can even use a capital A if you want to. Anybody who tells you otherwise has completely lost the plot. Commercial success in the creative world is a blessing enjoyed by a lucky few, their stories the result of survivor bias, so economics just isn’t a factor on artistic value. The various establishments that gatekeep what is “real art” or “good art” are either lost in the sauce or are just capitalists in cardigans. You get to decide what is good art - all by yourself. If it speaks to you, it’s yours. If not, that’s okay, it’s for somebody else. And the only way any of it can exist at all is if people sit down and spend the time pouring themselves into it.

How many hours have you spent with crayons in hand? Or writing poems on the back of your grocery list, plinking at a guitar, making colorful quilts, or banging out dopey fan fiction? That time is absolutely not wasted. The act of creation is part of what makes us who we are. We make art because we’re human. It goes back thousands of years, connecting us across time and cultures. It’s how we discover ourselves, both individually and collectively.

I can’t say how or why art moves us. But it does.

And that is the value of art.