How do you justify art?

I recently participated in a conversation where the topic went to the value of art. One way of looking at art is similar to the garage-sale justification: one person’s trash is another’s treasure. Taste in art can be so subjective. Take a Picasso, for example. I live in the Chicago area where everyone knows the landmark sculpture in Daley Plaza. Over the years I’ve heard it called all kinds of things, from majestic to a dog to a silly looking baboon to Huh? What’s that?

There is more traditional art, of course, where the artist’s rendition doesn’t take quite so much effort to interpret. Personally, that’s the kind I enjoy, but then I’ve been called pedestrian before and not been offended.

I don’t want to get political and discuss where public funding should be cut from which art programs. Instead, I just want to glance at this topic out of pure curiosity. As a writer who sometimes feels guilty for accepting money for writing stories that are pure pleasure to create, I also realize the value of writing because I enjoy reading. Of all the arts, I often find storytelling to be the most inspirational.

But what, really, is the purpose of art? Is it to enhance life, to inspire, to ease life’s pain, to accompany one’s joy, to educate, to worship, to condemn, to articulate the human experience? Probably all of that and more.

Once artists start sharing art, no matter what form: paintings or sculpture, photography or music, poetry or prose, at some point it must be assigned worth. In an economy, that comes down to money. Do you assign its value by asking key questions like: How many people will it impact? Will it improve anyone’s life? Can art solve a problem? What problem can it solve? Does art ever solve a problem? Can inspiration in one area lead to answers in another? How do you assess quality if that’s so subjective?

The best art is inspirational. For me, music can inspire the big picture of an entire plot or it can help me to see a more specific picture of the characters inhabiting that story. Music can define emotions for my characters, helping me to get inside their head and find words to explain motivation, reaction, or goals that might be important in a novel. That’s priceless, because it makes my characters—and therefore my stories—come alive for me first, and then hopefully for my readers.

Paintings can inspire me, too. In my current project I’m using a painting I once saw in a museum that depicted Christ crucified between two thieves. It’s meant to evoke emotion, and in my heroine—who aspires to be a thief—it stirs a mixed reaction at best. Guilt, of course, but hope for forgiveness. Had I not already seen a painting like the one I’m using in my story, I’m not sure I could capture some of the emotions such a painting can evoke in my character.

On a personal rather than professional level, my life holds just enough challenge to make art something of vital importance to me. I love escaping into a novel, or losing myself in a song, or resting in front of a portrait I find lovely. I’m willing to spend money to do that very thing.

But, like the pricing problem that comes with hosting a garage sale, I find it impossible to put a dollar amount on art. It depends on the perceived quality, on my need, and probably other variables less easily defined. I do know one thing about art, and that by partaking in it we are either consciously or subconsciously emulating our Creator God. If the sun ever emerges again in what has until recently still felt like the dregs of winter, I’ll see God paint the sky in colors that can take my breath away. And He’ll do it entirely free of charge.