Do works of art and essays have value in themselves or do they only acquire value after they gain recognition form third parties?

Let me start with an example. Consider for a minute Thomas Hobbes' Magnum Ops The Leviathan. His most famous work is widely considered to be a master piece of Western Philosophy and one of the most important essays ever written on the topic of Political Philosophy. The recognition it enjoys comes from academic philosophers around the world ho make sure that the work is constantly discussed, debated and thought to philosophy studenDivine Comedy, of which the same things could be said, except in the field of literature instead of philosophy. Thirdly, consider Leonardo da Vinci's most famous painting, the Mona Lisa. Every day thousands of people pay good money and stand in a big line just to be able to look for some instants at da Vinci's centenary creation. It is praised by many as one of the landmarks of painting and is one of the most famous work of art of all time. You can probably find a copy of it in almost every introduction to art history book ever published.

ts. Now consider Dante's

            One of the things these three works have in common is that they all enjoy nearly universal levels of recognition in their respective fields. They are celebrated to the extent that for someone to say that they are not as good as most people say they are sounds like sacrilege. Now imagine for an instant that none of these three works ever came to public knowledge. That, in an alternative version of history, Thomas Hobbes' died before he was able to publish The Leviathan, that Dante's enemies managed to prevent the publication of his work and that the Mona Lisa was bought by a private collector and kept inside of a mansion away from the sights of the outside world until now. In this alternative version of history, none of these three masterpieces ever got any recognition whatsoever. They were produced and then forgotten, like it happens to so many other works, less fortunate than these ones. One must wonder then if, deprived from recognition, the three works could still be considered as universal master pieces. In other words, would they still have the same intrinsic value?

            I believe they would have the same intrinsic value, even though they wouldn't have the same monetary value or the same value of public recognition. Yet none of these things seem to be intrinsically necessary for a work of art or an essay to have genuine value, a type of value that exists in itself, independent of third party recognition. After all, a work of philosophy's true purpose should be to shed light into difficult questions, and it could still do this without ever attaining recognition by a considerable number of people. Similarly, Dante's Divine Comedy and Leonardo da Vinci's Mona Lisa succeed in invoking different kinds of beauty, literary and visual, regardless of the fact of being read or seen by a number of people. They are beautiful, even if no one reads or sees them, the same way a splendid looking flower can be marvelously beautiful even if its hidden somewhere in the deeps of the Amazon jungle or a woman might be beautiful even if she is hidden under a veil. The woman in the example doesn't cease to be beautiful just because her beauty is hidden beneath a veil. Her beauty is not attained when the veil is lifted, since it was there all along. The same exact thing could be said about the Mona Lisa or the Divine Comedy. Even if people couldn't see the Mona Lisa because it was hidden in a private mansion, that doesn't mean that the Mona Lisa would stop to be beautiful. Likewise, if the Divine Comedy was hidden from public knowledge by Dante's enemies, that wouldn't mean that it was any less accomplished as a work of art. And if the public suddenly discovered these works of art the recognition wouldn't confer them value, rather, their value would simply become apparent for the first time to the general public.   

            It seems then that it is reasonable to claim that there is such a thing as an intrinsic value to works of art and essays, that is independent from the recognition conferred upon them by the public. In the case of works of art this inherent quality might be associated with beauty, whereas in the case of essays it could be associated with truth or knowledge.

As a conclusion, even if it had never been read by anyone but the writer, Thomas Hobbes' The Leviathan would still be his Magnum Ops. Even if the verses of the Divine Comedy had never become globally celebrated, it would still be just as good as a work of literature. And if the Mona Lisa hadn't found its place in the world, being viewed by millions every year, it would still be just as beautiful and thus just as inherently valuable.

            As a final note, I must add that even in spite of the conclusions put forward by this essay, it must be acknowledged that the reach and level of recognition of a work of art or essay can produce certain results that would not happen if that work remained unknown. In other words, a great work can produce a legacy that necessarily relies on its recognition and the impact it has on society. For example, Hobbes' Leviathan was instrumental in creating a whole current in political philosophy. Dante's Divine Comedy on the other hand had an important contribution to the formation of the Italian language, just like William Shakespeare's body of work did for the English language. Another good example is Marx work that ultimately had a big impact on the geo-politics of the twenty first century, which wouldn't have happened if it had remained confined to a small circle of people. Widespread reach and recognition can thus produce a legacy for the work of art or philosophy that would otherwise never come into existence.

Yet even in spite of this  fact it should not be forgotten that the intrinsic value of any work is not dependent on anyone or anything but itself.

Fundamentals

One thing you learn at university is that you should start every essay by saying what it is that you are going to argue and why you find the need to do so. This last part is especially true when it comes to dissertations of any kind, where it is you, the student, who has to come up with the title by yourself. In sum, you're supposed to convince the reader that what you are going to say next matters for a reason. In a way, this is what this article is about. I shall simply call it, fundamentals.

            Let me try to be a little bit clearer. A question that haunts me is why do I even bother to write? Why am I writing this article right now? Why do I write any article at all? When I was at uni this didn't seem like a question at all. I wrote because I was supposed to, I didn't have any other choice. If I didn't write, I would fail and never graduate. So when you are a student, writing is absolutely logical, since it fulfills a very clear, and essential purpose. The problem is, I'm not a student any more. The same could be said about a teacher or a researcher (they are often the same person anyway) at University. The teacher writes in order to receive a paycheck at the end of the month. He doesn't need any more justification than that because that alone would be good enough. Once again, we see that in the teacher's case writing is both logical and essential.

            When you leave the realm of academia however, things begin to get a little bit tricky. A little bit less obvious. There is of course the professional writer, who writes for money. The professional writer gets paid to write and this is what justifies his work. As long as he gets money, as long as he can make a living out of it, writing in his case is justified. This mostly applies to the writers of stories though. After all, how many non academic philosophers out there get paid for their work? Very few if any I would say. You have all those self-help writers of course but I don't wanna discuss that here because I have trouble even calling them writers at all.

            Things get even trickier when money is out of the equation. You are then left with lunatics like me, that write even though they don't have any single objective purposes in mind while they write. No one is ever going to pay me for writing this, that is a certainty. And here I am, wasting yet another hot afternoon in Rio typing at this keyboard. And even I wonder, why do I bother to do it?

            That being said, I'm hardly the only one in this position. Think about all the bloggers typing out their thoughts right now throughout the virtual, multilingual hyperspace twenty first centurers inhabit part-time. Filing their blogs with stories and thoughts, documenting either their lives or their interests with the help of this new technology. And you gotta wonder, why do they all do it?

            Assuming that we aren't all crazy, there must be something to it. Something that goes beyond the need to get good grades or to get a paycheck at the end of the month. Maybe money isn't everything after all, especially when it comes to writers. This one realization alone shouldn't be underestimated since it seems to disprove the theory that money validates someone as a worthy writer. After all, if money isn't everything a writer is after then even if he doesn't get any money that can't possibly mean that he has failed in his intent. After all it wasn't money he was after in the first place, so how can he be blamed for not getting money with his work? One can't possibly be deemed as a failure by not achieving what one isn't after.

            Yet, if it isn't money what people like me are after, what is it then? One option is that they simply want to share the events of their lives, their interests or their thoughts with other people, mostly people that are relatively close to them like friends, family and other acquaintances but maybe total strangers too. I shall call this the purpose of sharing.

            I shall now talk about yet another reason that drives me and others like me to write. This reason is just as powerful, if not more, than the previous one. I shall call it the purpose of recognition. Not a lot needs to be said about this reason in order to be understood, such is the instant familiarity most people will feel in relation to it. It is part of human nature to desire the recognition of our peers, be that for our virtues or our actions. Everyone wants to feel important and appreciated by the other members of our species. So one of the reasons that leads anyone to produce something beautiful or meaningful is precisely to attain the admiration of others. In some extreme cases, one can even hope to see his or her name in the history books, and thus achieve great glory and even, to some extent, conquer immortality itself.

            I believe that there is yet one last reason I must mention, even if this one is the most obscure of all. It has to do with some kind of inner value that can be attributed either to the work produced or to the very act of producing the work. It could be argued that these things alone could have enough value as to justify the activity of writing by the writer, and thus vindicate his efforts independently of any other persons. In sum, I would like to argue that in some cases writing has value even if no one else ever reads what has been written, and the writer is a worthy writer even if no one else gets to read what he writes. 

            I hope to have proven here that there are other aspects to writing, other ways to vindicate the writer rather than getting paid to write something. If not, I believe that I have at least been successful at casting a shadow of doubt on what I believe is a misconception that finds at least some degree of popularity in our society, the conception that the only valuable writings are those that someone is willing to pay for. 

Twenty First Century Writer

I'm writing this now. I've written a bunch of things in the past. In primary school, when I barely knew how to write, I was already writing stories and many other things. And then I kept writing. I wrote through middle school and high school. I would write things and a teacher would tell me if they were right or wrong, if they were good or bad. I did al kinds of writing growing up like most of us do. Some people never get the hang of it, others like me become fascinated by it. Maybe I'm a lousy writer, that's a definite possibility. Or maybe I'm a decent one, I don't really know. What is certain is that here I am, a 28 year old, sitting on a chair in a hot afternoon in Rio and still writing. I wrote through most of my twenties. In many different countries. I wrote to graduate from University. I even wrote a novel. And here I am now, writing again.

            Some people my age have never read a whole book in their lives. Most people my age have never written a whole book so far. Most people in the planet never get to write a book ever. A few write for a living, others, like myself, mostly just write because they want to. They never get a penny for it.

            I'm not sure I truly knew what I meant when I told people that I wanted to be a writer. I think I meant that I wanted to be a professional writer. To write novels and get paid to write them. So far I wrote one novel and I'm not even sure I like it. To be honest, I'm not even sure if it's any good. Maybe I'm a lousy writer after all, I don't know. All my friends and family tell me I'm a good writer but they wouldn't tell me the truth if I were a terrible one. So I don't really know. I'm not even sure if I want to be a writer anymore.

            Not so long ago when people asked me what I did for a living I would tell them I was a writer. That I was writing my first novel. Now I don't tell them I'm a writer anymore. They used to look at me funny because it's not everyday that you meet a writer. People won't even take you seriously until you publish your first book. 

            I finished my first novel six months ago. It took me about an year and a half to write it. Some times I think it sucks. Some times I think that it's ok. I think I stopped being a writer then. I don't even know what I am now. When people ask me what I do now sometimes I say I'm unemployed. That's probably the closest thing to the truth. It doesn't sound that good. I spent twenty six years of my life studying to be unemployed. That's pretty pathetic.

            So I'm writing this now and I'm unemployed. I feel like I don't even have the right to write it. It doesn't really matter. It's not like a lot of people will read it. One or two people maybe. Some of my loyal friends and readers. Maybe one or two people will read this and when they do they won't know what to make of it. Maybe next time they won't read it, maybe next time I'll write an article and no one will read it. It will just lay there, virgin, unexplored, uncharted, unknown. Words in a computer screen, in a tablet, on a kindle, lost in the oblivion of information. It will be as if it has never existed.

            I feel that the big question here is "who do I write for?" Do I write for myself? Do I write for the people I know, my friends and family? Do I write for the whole of humanity? I feel that many people feel that a writer's only goal should be writing for money. Once a guy told me that a writer is someone who gets paid to write. This was in Poland. That was probably one of the most depressing things I ever heard anyone say to me, anywhere, anytime. I want to believe that he is wrong. I want to believe that there is more to it than that. I want to believe that what I'm doing right now is not completely pointless. I want to believe that somebody other than me is reading this right now, or five minutes from now, or an hour from now, or tomorrow, or the following year. I wanna believe that you are reading every word and that you are feeling what I'm feeling as I write them. Maybe you too would like to be a writer and in that case I hope that you are braver than me and you keep writing just because you want to write, even if no one else cares.