The role of artists in our society

The Big Question

When I was young, my father asked me once what I thought the role of an artist was.

I didn’t quite know how to answer that, mostly because I thought it was very weirdly phrased. “Role?” What, was there some kind of unspoken job description that all artists agreed to take on as soon as they picked up a brush or a pen? 

“Yes, what is the role of the artist in our society?” he asked again (as if asking a weird question a second time would magically unlock the answer from within me).

"What is the role of the artist in our society?"

So I tried my best. “...Maybe,” I began to offer, “it’s to express their deepest thoughts and feelings? You know, the ones that they can’t always talk about in front of others or in public?”

His lips pursed, but his expression didn’t change otherwise, which, by then, I had learned to mean that my answer was not quite what he was looking for. 

“You need to read more,” was all he said to that. “Orwell. Dostoevsky. Huxley. You should read more of them, not those animal books.” [He was referring to the Animorph series, a young-adult science fiction series that was very popular at the time and with which I was obsessed.]

And to my own credit, that’s exactly what I did. I read Animal Farm in 9th grade, Brave New World in 10th, and The Brothers Karamazov in 11th (in addition to many other amazing classics, of course!). By that point, I felt like I finally understood the question. So when the topic came up again sometime during those latter years of high school, I told him, “They want to reveal human nature for what it actually is.” 

And he nodded. “But why?” he asked. “What is their purpose?”

And this time, his asking again allowed me to fit all the pieces together. Animal Farm wasn’t just some clever allegory; The Grand Inquisitor was more than just some plot device. They were attempts to unravel, expose, and reveal what is often kept hidden from a society. 

Why it mattered

I think about this experience a lot in my career as a designer, particularly because we all strive to find meaning in what we do (beyond just collecting a paycheck, I mean). Many of us wonder, after all, if we are making any meaningful contributions to society through our work…if we are making a positive difference in some way. 

So the way I’ve been able to come to terms with it is as follows: 

1. I am a designer (UX/LX), and thus I am an artist. 
2. because I am an artist, my role is to be able to see deeper into the matter than most others (my true value-add).
3. Doing so allows me to produce something that will be better than what exists today.

And this is how I contribute to society’s progress, as minuscule as that contribution may seem. I apply my critical thinking skills and ability to generate insights to uncover what is opaque, hidden, or difficult to define. And these contributions may be incremental, but they all add up in the end. In fact, this was one of the major themes behind The Brothers Karamazov: that we all are, in ways that we can't see or understand, connected to one another...our own actions invariably affecting the outcome for others.

In more literal terms, this could mean something like conducting a Needs Analysis even though your project sponsor thinks they’ve already identified the problem. They may have identified “a” problem, but, if you’ve accepted the same definition of the artist’s role that I have, you’ll know that what they are really hiring you for is your ability to “see” things differently. And that could mean conducting your own research nonetheless and having to convince them that the problem you’ve identified is actually the most optimal one to solve for.

"Good design is invisible."

As the saying goes, “good design is invisible.” And so I find it quite fitting that this is exactly where artists really operate: where things are hidden.