The value of art is regularly called into question. Not long ago, our state reduced funding to the Massachusetts Cultural Council—an all-too-familiar pattern. In response, advocates often turn to instrumental arguments: art improves education, boosts the economy, strengthens communities. These points have merit and have helped secure funding. But are they enough?
At a recent Americans for the Arts conference in Boston, these kinds of questions took center stage. I want to add to that conversation by suggesting that instrumental arguments—while helpful—do not go far enough. Art matters not just because of what it does for us, but because of what it is. We need to reclaim the idea that art has intrinsic value, rooted in the uniquely aesthetic experience it offers.
The trouble with instrumental arguments is that they focus only on art’s side effects. Yes, art helps people think more creatively in their careers. It contributes to tourism and local economies. It fosters civic engagement and gives voice to the marginalized. These are all good things. But none of them capture why we make, seek out, and dwell with art in the first place.
The risk is this: if we justify art only by its usefulness, we invite people to replace it with something more “efficient.” If creative thinking becomes the goal, maybe we should cut the arts and teach design thinking instead. If economic growth is the measure, let’s fund real estate. Instrumental value is fragile. It’s always one innovation away from being obsolete.
Art’s deeper value lies elsewhere. It isn’t merely a tool for something else—it is an end in itself. But this doesn’t mean art is purposeless. A purposeless practice—one people spend years studying, creating, and contemplating—would be irrational. Artists may make work for money, status, or expression. But audiences? Why would they pay for objects or performances that meant nothing and did nothing?
Art must have a purpose. But it’s not a utilitarian one. The purpose is aesthetic. Even when a work explores politics, religion, identity, or abstraction, its power is tied to how it looks, sounds, or feels. Art invites a way of seeing and experiencing the world that can’t be reduced to a slogan or lesson. It opens space for wonder, attention, resonance.
Of course, artists think about meaning. But meaning alone doesn’t explain our attachment to artworks. We often find ourselves moved by pieces we don’t fully “understand.” Why? Because artists also make aesthetic decisions: how to use color, form, texture, rhythm, light. These choices aren’t ornamental—they’re foundational. They’re what make the work worth looking at again, worth lingering with.
Aesthetic experience is not a luxury. It’s vital to human flourishing. Imagine a world stripped of proportion, color, rhythm, and harmony. Could we truly thrive there? Beauty—broadly understood—matters. We may disagree about what is beautiful, or how best to define it, but we all seek it in one form or another. Art is one of our most powerful means of offering beauty to one another.
And because beauty defies formulas, we need a wide range of artistic expression to make a beautiful world. When we advocate for the arts, we should absolutely mention the instrumental benefits. But we must also speak to art’s intrinsic worth—to the depth and dignity of aesthetic experience itself. That combination is more than persuasive. It’s true.