Why we create

Artists are drawn to make, to create, to envision something from nothing (or something from another thing).

Some do it for the joy of the experience, for the reward of the results, for the change it brings to the viewer.

In a world where ChatGPT and Claude and others can make something in an instant, we're left with the question of where art fits in, what it means to be an artist, why we create in the first place.

In that sense, I don't believe my experience has changed all too much. As a kid, I drew and sketched and painted to see something made from a canvas or paper, to clasp an idea from the air, or to replicate something beautiful that already existed.

I still try that, but often less for the sheer joy of it and more for the purpose of helping a person accomplish a given task. That, of course, is where artists and designers have some overlap and separation. A commercial designer (whether you're a graphic designer, web designer, or product designer) has a desire to match their aspirational view of creativity to the financial needs of an organization, and tie that together with a human on the other end who will use or benefit from that work in some way.

So yes, a designer is technically different from an artist. But most of us don't get into this field to move some financial numbers on a spreadsheet. Yes, it's important to understand that aspect of things, and there's creativity in changing numbers too, but that's not what's interested me all these years.

I want to make things that delight, that move, that encourage, and that help people accomplish what matters to them.

Nowhere in this (in my opinion) should there be a need to coerce action where it's undesired, to trick people through dark patterns, to create engagement purely for its own sake. That path leads toward all the apps and experiences that I'm not interested in building.

So, I come back to the question: why do we create? For me, it's through a need to organize chaos, to bring clarity to the confusion around me, and to try and build an experience that helps in some way.

Now, many days I fall short of that. Art, design, creativity—it's a messy field. It's hard to define at times, and yes, you can do a lot through data analysis and anecdotal user interviews, but I sometimes feel that the original reason for art has been lost in the midst of all this.

We need to ask people what they want, and try to deliver it. But there's a spectrum to this as well. People don't always know what they want, and sometimes showing a better way is needed to help encourage the results that the "user" ultimately desired, despite them not knowing how to get there.

With the advancement of tools that can design experiences in seconds, I've been trying to figure out where I, as a messy but experienced human, fit into all this. And, time and again, I see the results of these tools, apps created by Claude or Codex, as merely average things that somewhat accomplish what's needed—but without delight, without spark, without whimsy and a human-led life behind it.

That doesn't mean there's no merit. I've seen plenty of crappy apps in the last year that solve a problem for someone. But they're not curated, editorialized. It's similar to why I'd rather read a novel from a person that, imperfect though it may be, feels lived, feels messy, feels human.

And so, as I approach continuing to use these tools to make my art, trying to wrestle with where to leverage them to move my productivity forward, I'm also constantly pulling on that tension to pause, step back, and reinsert my own humanity into the mix.

I don't want to use tools that are the average of maths summed up from design slurped up from the internet. I want to use the thing that you, imperfect human though you may be, created and sweated over.

So why do we create? We create because we need to; it scratches this need in the back of our minds to put something out into the world that is beautiful, that inspires thought, that moves us.

We just got back from a trip to Italy, where art was at the forefront of our minds through every town and building we passed. I want more of that in our lives, not less. I want to see what you have to create, even if (and especially if) it's not perfect.