Make Art

We are all artists, in one sense or another. Our society, unfortunately, does little to cultivate this innate creativity beyond the occasional obligatory art class in school. I dabble in creative pursuits myself, though I don’t identify as particularly talented or skilled in making art. Yet I still create, because the act itself brings its own rewards.

When examining the animal kingdom, artistic expression emerges as one of the few characteristics that differentiate humans from other species. Other animals make things I’d still call art, but our relationship to it is weirder and more layered. We analyze, critique, and deliberately evolve our art in ways other species cannot, though evidence suggests many animals still appreciate and create their own forms of art.

Consider the bowerbird, who creates elaborate, decorated structures purely to attract mates. They’re not nests or shelters. They’re part display, part seduction. Or examine how certain species have evolved spectacular visual displays through bright colors and intricate patterns. These evolutionary art pieces serve dual purposes: attracting mates and deterring predators. Sexual dimorphism is one of the clearest places you can see display shaping a species over time.

What’s particularly fascinating about animal art–bird songs, elaborate dances, visual displays–is how they often resonate with humans despite not being created for our appreciation. We find beauty in a nightingale’s melody, though it sings not for us. We marvel at a peacock’s magnificent tail, though it displays not for our benefit. We admire the geometric precision of a spider’s web, though it weaves without human audience in mind. I don’t think that’s nothing. Something in us still answers to it, even when it has nothing to do with us.

Music is probably the art form most people live with most often, though we don’t always categorize it alongside paintings or sculptures in our conception of “art.” Music communicates emotions, perspectives, narratives, and concepts with remarkable efficiency. It bridges generational and cultural divides, creating communal experiences in ways few other mediums can achieve. Music has accompanied human civilization since our earliest days and will likely remain with us throughout our existence as a species.

Despite art’s fundamental importance to human experience, few people receive guidance in appreciating art, and even fewer learn how to create it beyond rudimentary instruction in childhood. That’s a loss. Making things gives people a way to figure out what they think and feel, and sometimes to show it to someone else.

Learning to appreciate art requires no specialized training–simply identifying what resonates with you personally, what doesn’t, and allowing yourself time to engage with what you enjoy. Quality in art is ultimately subjective; it’s whatever speaks to you, regardless of critics or self-proclaimed experts. A lot of people try to make art feel locked behind theory or historical context. I don’t buy that.

We all possess creative capacity, though many haven’t yet discovered their preferred medium or granted themselves permission to explore artistic interests. Some find their expression through cooking, gardening, or arranging their living spaces. Others through writing, singing, dancing, or digital creation. The point is making something, not picking the correct lane first.

So today, make something–anything. Write a poem. Sketch a tree. Compose a melody. Arrange flowers in a vase. The quality doesn’t matter; the act of creation does. Your art might never hang in galleries or sell for millions, but that was never the point. Make art because it connects you to that ancient, fundamental aspect of being human that we share with the dancing birds and singing whales–the drive to create something that wasn’t there before.