How Art Makes Us Human

Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about how art has shaped me. I truly believe that art is woven into the fabric of who we are, something that connects us to ourselves and to each other in ways that words alone never could.

I’m not trying to get too deep or anything, but art has this way of sneaking up on you. Like, I remember this one time when I was traveling alone. I was sitting at a tiny cafe, kind of people-watching, and there was this guy playing guitar outside. He started singing a song I didn’t know, about being lost and trying to make sense of life. There was something in the way he sang it, like he’d taken a piece of himself and put it into the music. It felt like he was singing directly to me, even though I was just another random person sitting there with a cup of chai.

When he finished, I walked up to him and asked, “Hey, what song is this?” He smiled and said, “It’s Time by Pink Floyd.” Then, after a pause, he added, “This song saved my life.”

I didn't know what to say. I mean, how does a song save someone’s life? I guess he could see the question on my face, because he set his guitar down and started to explain.

“It was a really dark time in my life, I dropped out of college, lost touch with my friends, and felt like I was just… drifting. I was running in circles, wasting time, not going anywhere. One night, I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, and this song came on. I wasn’t even paying attention at first, but then the lyrics hit me, ‘And you run and you run to catch up with the sun, but it’s sinking…’ You know that part?”

I nodded, even though I wasn’t familiar with the song at that time.

He looked back at me then, making sure I understood. “It wasn’t like the song magically fixed everything, it’s not like I listened to it and my life suddenly got better. But it was a turning point for sure. It made me start thinking differently. It made me want to do something or anything to break out of the rut I was in. It was like someone reached out to me through the music, and told me, ‘ You’re not alone in feeling this way. But you don’t have to stay here. '"

I stood there, unsure of what to say. Having a stranger open up like that isn’t something that happens every day. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Art doesn’t always fix things for you, but it gives you something to hold on to, something to pull yourself up with. Sometimes, that’s enough.

Speaking of films, I believe movies are one of the most powerful forms of storytelling we have. I'll never forget the first time I watched my all-time favorite film, Goodfellas . At first, I thought it was just going to be a cool gangster movie with an incredible soundtrack (which it totally is, by the way). But as I watched, I realized it wasn’t really about the mob at all. It was about choices. About ambition. About what we lose and sacrifice when we go chasing after the things we think we want. There’s this one scene in the film where Henry Hill (the lead actor) is sitting alone in his suburban kitchen after everything has fallen apart. No mobsters, no action, just a guy sitting there with the weight of his life choices on his shoulders. And in that moment, I thought, This is all of us. The details might be different, but we’ve all had moments like that, moments of reckoning, moments of solitude where we wonder if we’re on the right path. And isn’t that what art does? It makes us feel like we’re living someone else’s life, even just for a moment. I’ve cried for characters who don’t exist, felt seen by stories that are nothing like my own.

One of my favorite memories from my childhood is tied to art, though I didn’t realize it at that time. My dad used to play an old cassette tape of his favorite songs on Saturday mornings while he cleaned the house. He’d be singing along (badly, I might add) while the sunlight streamed through the windows. It was such a small thing, but those mornings felt special. The music turned a boring chore into something warm and happy. Now, whenever I hear those songs, I’m instantly back in that moment. That’s the magic of art. It attaches itself to our memories, turning them into something we can hold on to forever.

And that’s why I think art makes us human. It helps us process our pain, navigate difficult times, and find joy in life’s small moments. But more than that, it connects us. It reminds us that we are part of something bigger, something that transcends our individual experiences. Sometimes art is just… fun. It’s dancing to your favorite song in the kitchen. It’s laughing so hard at a comedy that your stomach hurts. It’s the silly doodles you draw when you’re bored.

Art reminds us to feel, to reflect, to celebrate. It helps us make sense of the messy, complicated, beautiful thing that is being human.

And honestly, I can’t imagine my life without it. Can you?