What is art?

Please, tell me in the comments!

I got back from Italy in the middle of the night on Thursday (really Friday morning) and my brain has not yet snapped back into routine.

But this morning I had an interesting conversation with my husband and I thought I’d share it, because I’m really curious to know your thoughts. So I will keep this short and please let me know what you think in the comments.

My husband, who has been a chef for most of his life and who has worked for some of the most famous names in high-end dining, wondered out loud if food — cooked at the highest skill levels and in the most elaborate ways — really was an art form. I immediately replied that I didn’t think it was an art form, which prompted a discussion that I found helpful in clarifying what, exactly, I think art is and what is its purpose.

Basically, to me art is something that expresses truth (even THE truth), in a timeless or at least durable way. Art is work that is almost universally recognisable, that can be understood without a high level of sophistication or training necessary, but also performs an edifying function in that it presents its truth in a beautiful, highly skilled, or creative way. Art will stimulate the brain as well as act as a sort of balm on the soul, bringing the kind of resonance that only happens when you recognise something as True. I don’t mean true in a purely material sense, like it’s true that I am typing this on my computer. True in relation to some timeless or universal aspect of being alive, being human. 

Food, on the other hand, is purely a sensual delight. I do not mean in any way to demean food by saying this. Quite the contrary. Food is the second of life’s greatest joys. But it’s pleasure is fleeting, momentary. No matter how much talent, how much genius, and how much labour go into creating a delicious meal, it’s over in a matter of minutes, never to be experienced again.

This helped me understand my own thoughts about the difference between what is art and what is artisanal. If art brings us closer to something true about the human experience in a beautiful way, artisanal combines beauty with function and elevates the necessary tools of everyday life to a level of artistic beauty. Personally, being bereft of practical skill — the kind required to make beautiful objects — I place a very high value on people who possess them. But are the things they make art? Not to me. Though perhaps they are something better, or just as good: they are the things that smooth over the rough edges of life, bring comfort in the small moments, like making tea in a perfect tea pot, or sitting with a beautiful handmade quilt over your knees, or biting into the crunchy crust of a piece of sourdough bread. The artisan makes the day-to-day a happy sensory experience, while the artist lifts our eyes to the universal. It’s genuinely hard for me to say which is more important.

Of course, our contemporary world has robbed many millions of people of both the artist and the artisan. I try to stay on guard against idealising the past, as I have a tendency to do that. But it seems pretty clear, especially having just come back from Rome, that whatever their many, many flaws, past societies were entirely dominated by the artist and the artisan. Almost everyone would have come into contact with them regularly. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve had an obsession with the past — which an astrologer once told me derived from the lack of Earth elements in my birth chart - take that, rationalists and science freaks! But I always thought it was somehow linked with my propensity to think about the objects of beauty and the old stories that mean a lot to me but no longer dominate our culture. For whatever reason (alignment of stars or just my own twee eccentricity), I acutely feel their lack.

My personal opinion is that music is the highest art form, followed by writing. Without musical training, I can feel within my body the harmonious reverberations and resonance of Lacrimosa by Mozart or In a Sentimental Mood by John Coltrane or Come On Up to the House by Tom Waits.

And can anyone give me a better description of a powerful man, destroyed by insecurities brought out by a weak man, than Othello? Or a more vivid and compelling moral dictionary than Dante’s Inferno? 

What are your definitions of art?