Why do we create things with no clear utility?
In the hopes that another person will understand the artifact of our personal experience. That someone else will recognize themselves in our creation, and by so doing allow for a moment of perfect kinship.
Art is nothing but communication.
Artists are those who find conventional means of communication insufficient for their personal experience. Those who have inner storms and glories that conversation cannot translate, that standard speech cannot make intelligible. And so they splatter paint onto the canvas, forge steel, craft words, form melodies and do so compulsively until the result is something they recognize as themselves, but also more than themselves. This, the transcendent work, the timeless masterpiece, is the goal of every creator.
Every artist has their own motivation. Perhaps they are attempting to justify their own existence. Or maybe they are making their own gravestone, something to stand beyond their lifetime as a sign of significant existence. But each of the manifold motivations contains the same seed; loneliness.
The artist hopes to be understood, no matter what they may tell you.
For why else would they create at all?
Therein lies the angst making paradox.
The great artist must hope to be understood yet they must never let that end direct them. To submit to that motivating hope is to be swayed by convention. For if you aim at being understood, within or without your lifetime, nothing you can make will transcend your narrowest limit. All will be restricted by your fear. The deepest, noblest depths of your unconscious will remain submerged, untamed by conscious direction and ecstatic abandon.
This is why most art is neither good nor bad. Instead, it is nothing at all.
Within it, you see the artist’s loneliness, their hoping for esteem and understanding strapped around their ankle like a weight, holding them back from what might be an honest expression.
Art is Insanity. Art is the weirdo’s only chance at pure kinship, raw communication. It is the solace of both loners and Kings. But if your fear and desperation contain you, the insanity will remain where it was formed. Deep within you, hidden and waiting for release.