Art Is Not About Self-Expression
It's Not About Being Edgy Either
Art has never been about self-expression. This is a modern delusion, born from a culture that worships the individual and dismisses the collective. The belief that art exists only to reflect the inner thoughts and emotions of the artist is not a liberation—it is a severance. It cuts art away from its social function, leaving both the artist and the audience adrift.
Great art has always been a bridge, not a mirror. It does not merely express—it communicates. It speaks to something beyond the artist’s personal experience, resonating with others, binding a people together through shared beauty, meaning, and truth. But today’s artists are trained to reject this role. They are taught that their work need not be understood, that its value is measured only by how much it reflects their personal experience.
The result is an art world that speaks only to itself, locked in an echo chamber of solipsism and self-indulgence.
A culture that embraces this attitude dooms itself to artistic sterility. It produces work that alienates rather than unites, that fragments rather than uplifts. The artist, convinced he owes nothing to the world, finds that the world returns the favor—his work is ignored, his relevance fades. He becomes a man screaming into the void, wondering why no one listens.
This is the consequence of self-expression elevated above all else. It is not freedom. It is exile. And a civilization that follows him down this path will find itself lost along with him.
II. The Social Function of Art
Art is the memory of a civilization. It is how a people record their triumphs, mourn their losses, and define their values. It is not a private act but a public inheritance, something passed from one generation to the next, shaping the way a culture sees itself. To sever art from this function is to sever a civilization from its own identity.
Every great society has understood this. The Greeks carved their gods into marble, making the divine visible. The medieval world built cathedrals, lifting the soul toward heaven. The Renaissance produced masterpieces that still define the Western imagination. In each case, art was not an isolated act of self-expression but a communal effort to reflect and refine the deepest truths of a people.
Contrast this with the modern art world, where meaning is dismissed as cliché, beauty is mocked as naïve, and obscurity is mistaken for depth. The artist no longer seeks to inspire but to confuse. He no longer serves his people but isolates himself from them. The result is a culture that feels alien to its own inhabitants—a society surrounded by art that does not speak to them, architecture that does not shelter them, music that does not move them.
Art that does not connect cannot endure. A civilization that forgets its artistic duty will find itself spiritually hollow, incapable of producing anything that lasts. Without a shared aesthetic, there can be no shared culture. Without shared culture, there is nothing left to preserve.
III. The Consequences of Artistic Isolation
The artist who believes his work exists only for himself is not free—he is lost. Art is a language, and language is meant to be understood. When artists sever themselves from their audience, when they retreat into self-indulgence, their work ceases to function. It becomes an exercise in vanity, a private code decipherable only to those who already share their worldview.
This is why so much modern art feels empty. It is not made to uplift, to connect, or to endure. It is made to signal, to provoke, to demonstrate intellectual superiority. The audience, sensing this, turns away. And yet, artists blame the people for failing to appreciate them, never questioning whether their work has failed to give the people a reason to care.
The result is cultural disintegration. When art no longer binds people together, something else fills the void—cheap entertainment, political propaganda, or, worst of all, nothing. Public spaces become sterile, cities lose their aesthetic identity, and beauty is treated as an afterthought. The individual artist, having abandoned his duty to the whole, finds himself alone in his own irrelevance.
A society cannot survive without meaningful art. It will continue, but as a collection of individuals, not a unified people. It will lose its sense of self, its connection to the past, its vision for the future. The artist who refuses to serve his civilization does not make it stronger—he ensures that it crumbles, one forgotten masterpiece at a time.
IV. How a Civilization Reclaims Its Art
A society that treats art as a personal indulgence will decay. A civilization that understands art as a sacred duty will thrive. The way forward is not a return to rigid formulas, but a rediscovery of art’s higher purpose—a purpose beyond the whims of the individual.
The artist must reestablish his role as a steward of culture, not a solitary genius detached from his people. He must create with the knowledge that his work is not his alone. It belongs to the past that shaped him, the present that receives him, and the future that will judge him. This does not mean art should be shackled by propaganda or stripped of individuality. It means that art should be in conversation with something greater than the artist’s own ego.
This shift cannot come from the artist alone. It must be reflected in the culture. Society must demand art that nourishes rather than deconstructs, that builds rather than mocks. It must recognize that beauty is not a luxury but a necessity, that great art is not an ornament but the foundation of civilization.
A culture that understands this will produce work that speaks across generations. Its cathedrals will stand. Its paintings will be revered. Its music will endure. But if it continues down the path of fragmented, solipsistic art, it will fade into incoherence. The choice is clear: reclaim art as a unifying force, or watch as a civilization drowns in the shallows of its own self-obsession.
V. Art as Obligation, Not Indulgence
To create is to serve. The greatest artists understood this. They did not see their work as a self-indulgent exercise, but as a responsibility—one that connected them to their ancestors, their people, and the future generations who would inherit their vision. Their work was not a diary entry. It was a monument.
Art that endures is never about the artist alone. It is about something greater—beauty, truth, transcendence. It speaks to those who come after, giving them something to hold onto, something to believe in. It shapes the identity of a civilization, defining its highest values and its deepest aspirations. But when art is reduced to self-expression, it loses this power. It ceases to be a bridge between individuals and becomes a mirror that reflects nothing but the artist’s own image.
A culture that elevates this kind of art will become self-absorbed, fragmented, incapable of producing anything that lasts. Its architecture will crumble, its paintings will be forgotten, its music will be noise. It will become a civilization without memory, without identity, without beauty.
The artist has a duty—to create not for himself, but for his people. To build, not for today, but for eternity. A civilization that understands this truth will flourish. One that rejects it will dissolve into nothing. The choice is not between freedom and constraint. It is between greatness and oblivion. And only those who understand art as an obligation will leave anything worth remembering.