No field in this world is perfect, and every industry, including the arts, seems to have its own set of concerns. But if the art world were perfect, here are things I would do…
Things I would do if the art world were perfect
I would create for no specific audience
Growing up in the digital age as a self-taught artist, I have always felt this constant need to share my artworks on social media. I never quite loved it because the nature of the art process is imperfect, slow, and chaotic, while social algorithms love predictability, consistency, and quantity. Sometimes, I would almost be fooled and think that social media rewards authenticity and genuine creativity, but the more I pay attention, the more I realize that what I thought was chaos is, in fact, organized and orchestrated. It is made to look spontaneous when it is perfectly made up.
And while I love creating and sharing my work, a big part of me wants to do so with passion for creating instead of trying to please and constantly entertain an audience. Everything feels almost too performative nowadays, and no amount of authentic creativity is enough to stand out, which discourages me a bit as an artist. So if the art world were perfect, I would create art that I love, that may not have any deep meaning to the observer, but has a big aesthetic value to me. I would make the artworks and look at them for nothing but my own satisfaction.
I would collaborate with other artists
Community is the core of any cultural element. Creating art, however, is a pretty lonely process. So the majority of artists tend to be more introverted than extroverted.
But I often wonder how much of that is natural, and how much of it is shaped by the systems we exist in.
In a perfect art world, collaboration wouldn’t feel intimidating or competitive. It wouldn’t feel like you are constantly comparing your level, your style, your audience, or your “worth” to someone else. Instead, it would feel like expansion. Like stepping into someone else’s universe for a moment and letting it reshape yours.
I would collaborate more freely, without overthinking whether our styles match, whether it would “perform well,” or whether it fits into a certain niche. I would create just for the experience of creating with someone. Because some of the most beautiful things in art happen when control is shared.
And maybe art wouldn’t feel so lonely anymore.
I would stop measuring my art in numbers
Somewhere along the way, numbers became a language artists are forced to understand.
Likes. Views. Shares. Saves.
And even when we try to pretend they don’t matter, they do. Not always emotionally, but structurally. They decide visibility. Opportunities. Growth.
In a perfect art world, numbers would not define value.
An artwork that reaches 10 people would not be seen as less important than one that reaches 10,000. A quiet piece would not be considered less successful than a viral one.
I would stop refreshing pages.
Stop questioning my work based on its performance.
I would stop attaching my confidence to something so unstable.
I’d let the work exist, and that would be enough.
I would take my time
Everything now feels urgent.
Post consistently. Create faster. Stay relevant. Don’t disappear.
But art was never meant to be rushed. Some ideas need to sit with you for weeks. Pieces need to fail before becoming something worth keeping. Some phases of your creativity require silence, not exposure.
In a perfect art world, slowness would not be punished.
I would take months to finish a piece without feeling guilty. I would disappear and come back without feeling like I have to rebuild everything from zero. I’d choose boredom, experimentation, and even creative blocks to exist without turning them into problems to fix.
Because sometimes, not creating is also part of creating.
I would make “useless” art
Not everything needs to teach something.
Or needs to carry a message.
Not everything needs to be deep.
In a world that constantly asks why, I think I would finally allow myself to answer: no reason.
I would create things that are purely aesthetic, purely emotional, or even purely random. Art that exists just because it wants to exist.
Because there is something very honest about creating without purpose. It feels closer to instinct. Closer to play.
And maybe that’s what we lose as we grow—not talent, but permission to play without justification.
I would see art as something we live with, not just consume
Art today is often reduced to something we scroll through.
Fast. Disposable. Replaceable.
In a perfect art world, art would return to being something we sit with. Something we revisit. Something that slowly reveals itself instead of immediately grabbing attention.
I would want my art to be experienced, not just seen.
To exist in someone’s space, physically or mentally, for longer than a few seconds. To be something that grows on you instead of something that instantly impresses you.
And maybe the art world will never be perfect.
But I think writing things like this is my way of quietly resisting what it has become. I remind myself that, even within an imperfect system, I can still choose how I create, how I share, and how I define meaning in my own work.
And maybe that’s the closest thing to a perfect art world I’ll ever get.
