Several days ago, highly-esteemed science man, Neil deGrasse Tyson put forth a hypothesis about the true definition of art:

Bears repeating: Creativity that satisfies & affirms your world view is Entertainment. Creativity that challenges & disrupts your world view is Art.
— Neil deGrasse Tyson (@neiltyson) March 6, 2018

Neil deGrasse Tyson is a very smart man. But even smart people can be wrong--and Neil is very wrong. There’s a very simple refutation, and it can be found in this tweet. When Michelangelo painted the Sistine Chapel ceiling, the holy figures definitely affirmed his worldview. The same applies to Giovanni Battista Gaulli’s painting on the ceiling of the Church of the Jesu. Baroque and Renaissance art are highly-respected forms of classical art, but according to deGrasse Tyson’s definition, they are not art at all.

So if Neil’s definition is wrong, whose is right? Well, it's not that easy. There are no right answers. In fact, the only wrong answers are the definitions that draw lines between “art” and “not art.” My hesitant definition of art is something created that makes you feel a certain way or is intended to make you feel a certain way. I say “hesitant” because, even as broad a definition as it is, it still excludes things I consider art.

For example, a photorealistic drawing of a person’s face might not make me feel anything, and the artist might not have intended it to. But the piece is still a testament to the talent of the artist, and I would consider it art. I also like Google’s definition of art as “the expression or application of human creative skill and imagination, typically in a visual form such as painting or sculpture, producing works to be appreciated primarily for their beauty or emotional power.” This definition works because it describes a large majority of art while still using words like “typically” and “primarily” to retain versatility.

One misconception many people have about art is that it has to have a deeper meaning to be defined as such. This is the thought of an elitist or someone unknowingly influenced by elitists. Alena Aenami’s beautiful paintings don’t tout some deep social commentary—they’re simply enjoyable to look at and make the viewer feel the emotions captured in the painting.

I once heard a story about a person visiting a tattoo parlor. She asked the artist what his tattoos meant. He said there was no meaning; they just looked cool. Art for the sake of itself is just as valid as art for the sake of meaning.

The polar opposite of the idea that art needs a meaning is the idea that it needs anything else. People (including me) love to laugh at what is not-so-lovingly referred to as “modern art.” One example is Marcel Duchamp’s “Fountain:" Behold:

That’s it. "Fountain" is a signed urinal turned 90 degrees. It is not the piece itself, but its interpretations that are significant. Philosopher Stephen Hicks said,

“The artist is a not a great creator—Duchamp went shopping at a plumbing store. The artwork is not a special object—it was mass-produced in a factory. The experience of art is not exciting and ennobling—at best it is puzzling and mostly leaves one with a sense of distaste. But over and above that, Duchamp did not select just any ready-made object to display. In selecting the urinal, his message was clear: Art is something you piss on.”

Some must have took this interpretation literally, as the Wikipedia page for “Fountain” has a section dedicated to the artists who, successfully or otherwise, attempted to urinate on the piece. An anonymous editorial, assumed to be written by Beatrice Wood, proclaims,

“Whether Mr. Mutt with his own hands made the fountain or not has no importance. He chose it. He took an ordinary article of life, placed it so that its useful significance disappeared under the new title and point of view – created a new thought for that object.”

These interpretations may seem to be a bit of a stretch, and it’s impossible to know what Duchamp really intended “Fountain” to be. But that’s part of the fun of art: the artist’s intent is not the only valid interpretation. The fact that a urinal presented as an art piece could stir up so much thought and fit into so many different interpretations is pretty amazing to me. Maybe that’s why the same urinal was voted the most influential artwork of the 20th century by 500 British art professionals.

I know what you’re thinking. “What’s so special about a urinal? I could do that.” While reading the bizarre Wikipedia page for “Fountain,” I thought the same thing. Then I realized: that’s the beauty of art. Anyone can do it. No matter how steady your hand or how active your imagination, you (and everyone else) are capable of making something that makes someone else feel a certain way. And a world where everyone is an artist is one I’d love to live in.

We’re still no closer to defining art. But maybe that’s how its supposed to be. Maybe art is one of the few things for which we cannot define the limit. I think that’s pretty fitting, indeed.