From the day Man was made, we took a liking to art.
No. Scratch that.
We searched for it. We saw it in Nature. In symmetry. In chaos. In each other. We were born with it pulsing through our veins. A need to express inner turmoil; the highs and lows of our minds.
We etched with flints, colored with earth pigments, and created pictographic masterpieces on cave walls. We told stories through art. Captured history through art. And expressed our souls; all through art.
As we walked forward (or arguably, backward) into the Modern Age, we dabbled in impressionism and surrealism and cubism.
Each artist yearning to create something revolutionary; something new that would “wow” and shock the world and give birth to a different movement that connected people of that time; their grief, their happiness, their challenges, and their need to be inspired. We expressed ourselves; and through expression, allowed others to do the same.
We can sit here and think about the countless, painstaking hours that went into an oil painting or typography print or any other art piece made by hand. We can fantasize about the raw emotions that infected the artist’s mind and body as he or she worked on the masterpiece. The events that circled their lives, provoking this creation. This is where art connects us; by speaking to and evoking the soul.
It is here---in our absolute need to connect and be connected to one another---where art truly thrives; where invisible, Universe- and God-driven forces align and make two strangers feel the exact same emotions, even if for a brief moment.
Without that prolonged human touch of graphite-pencil-to-paper and the time and effort given, art ceases to have meaning. Just a pretty picture, devoid of life and emotion and anything and everything human.
Fortunately, for every artificially- and keyword-generated artwork flooding the market, the value of real art increases. A new era of purity and rawness and authenticity to inevitably emerge from the ashes of a soulless, imitative one.