In 1917, Marcel Duchamp submitted a porcelain urinal to an art exhibition that promised to accept any piece of artwork so long as the artist paid the application fee. Thus, Duchamp anonymously presented an upside-down urinal signed “R. Mutt, 1917” and titled it Fountain. The board did not miss a beat in rejecting the submission from who they believed to be an unknown artist, deciding it could not possibly constitute art; after all, it was a urinal. Duchamp, who was on the board himself, resigned in dismay. 

The urinal sparked outrage and debate then and continues to be a subject of controversy. One contemporary editorial segment on the situation stands out to me in particular. It reads, “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.” Whether you agree or disagree with this opinion, Fountain changed the conversation of what constitutes art for good. It introduced the concept that art need not always be about beauty, skill, or originality. Art could exist in context, in its intentionality, in the bold act of pointing at something and declaring: “This is art”.

Arguing that Fountain indeed can be called “artwork”, Duchamp and his ‘readymades’ encourage us to push our standard definition of “creation” further. The word is often reserved for grand gestures such as oil paintings, symphonies, and marble sculptures. Yet creation art is not exclusive to galleries and cathedrals; it’s embedded in daily life wherever creativity emerges. So when we think about what counts as creating art, it can be as simple or as complex as you like and it is not within someone else’s jurisdiction to make that distinction. Duchamp’s legacy teaches us that the essence of art lies in the artist’s ability to separate an object from its original function and reimagine it. This is to say that there is artistry in being able to see certain aesthetic value in even the most mundane parts of our lives. Portraying your individual perspective and experience through something else previously crafted is a craft in itself. Duchamp even goes on to suggest that creating art is inseparable from the human condition: “You cannot define electricity. The same can be said of art. It is a kind of inner current in a human being, or something which needs no definition.” 

This ongoing struggle and ambiguity in defining art should be reframed as a strength rather than a weakness. The article, “Is Everything Art? A Perspective” expresses how defining art inevitably traps us in “boxes” formed by time, culture, and assumptions. What one generation or group of people considers art, another may dismiss. What was once radical, such as Impressionism for example, is now safe and completely accepted. Clinging too tightly to definitions risks excluding the very things that end up pushing culture forward. There is a certain beauty in ambiguity. I do not believe there is a successful way to group art into neat categories, and this is exactly what allows it to stay alive. If we insist on developing a definition then Duchamp’s urinal, or contemporary digital installations, and maybe even the creation of memes, would all be cast out as impostors in the art world - it would be an unfair categorisation. Ambiguity is not a flaw in art, but rather a part of how it stays dynamic and connected to humanity. 

So how can this relate to those of us who are not critics or historians, but ordinary people who have deadlines to meet or groceries to buy? The way I see it, the openness of art prevents the act of creating to be limited by those deemed professionals. Creativity is accessible to all people and engaging in it profoundly impacts our well-being.

Psychologists have documented how creative acts like journaling, cooking, or sketching can reduce stress and promote positive mental health. The “flow,” a psychological concept studied by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, has shown that immersion in a creative task generates joy and newfound meaning in people’s lives. The point is not what is made, but the process and vision that motivates it. Creating also serves as a means to reconnect with self-sufficiency in a world so dominated by consumerism. This gives us a sense of agency rather than the passive feeling that can come with purchasing whatever we need at our fingertips.

Still, we must address the elephant in the room that is technology. Technology has flooded the artistic world with all types of nuanced pieces, especially with AI appearing everywhere. Depending on where you stand, this may either be frightening or open up a further realm of possibilities. So does this mean we must draw the line and dictate what it means to be art? If AI can spit out a portrait within a moment, does that undermine its artistic worth? Although I do not agree that AI art amounts to what can creatively be done by a human, I do think we are at a point in society where we will have to increasingly accept it as art as time goes on. I will say that photography once caused outrage in art too, people once arguing that it should not be considered real art, the same with film. So I feel that as technology and AI accelerates at the speed it has been in the past couple of years, we are bound to see its continued use in creative landscapes. Thus, we can take a lesson from Duchamp and adopt a positive outlook on the subject. The intention is what should matter, not the tool. This perspective would allow AI-assisted design to become art without the output being merely reduced to ‘content’. In this reframework, technology does not have to be the death of art but rather another method of creativity.

If Duchamp could convince the world that a urinal was art, then surely we can accept that art will never fit neatly into boxes. Its ambiguity is its gift. So next time you are feeling creative, do not feel intimidated by experts or masterpieces. Pick up whatever materials you’d like, and create. Because in the end, you are the only one who can define what your art means.