Understanding why there is art—and now AI art—reveals one of the deepest layers of human nature, and helps us grasp what it means when machines begin to mirror our most expressive aspirations.
There is no single reason why humans create art.
Rather, art arises from a rich web of interlocking needs—biological, cognitive, emotional, and existential—that together form one of the most distinct features of the human species.
Art engages the brain’s capacity for imagination and problem-solving. Psychologically, creating art is a form of play and exploration that exercises our cognitive abilities.
From early childhood scribbles to intricate symphonies, art stimulates creativity and nourishes our capacity to think differently.
But art is more than mental exercise. Humans turn to art to express, regulate, and process feelings that are often too complex for everyday language.
It has been shown to reduce stress, anxiety, and even physical pain.
Art is not just for the individual; it is for the group. One of art’s most enduring functions is communication. Long before written language, humans used drawings, dances, and songs to record knowledge and transmit culture. Art preserves shared values and identity. It binds individuals into tribes, nations, and civilizations.
This social function extends to emotional synchronization. Participating in group artistic practices—drumming, singing, storytelling—tends to sync individuals emotionally, fostering cohesion and mutual understanding.
In this sense, art is a survival tool: it enables collaboration and strengthens the social glue needed for group living.
Based on these reasons—art’s role in cognitive stimulation, emotional expression for pain reduction, social cohesion, and cultural transmission—it’s no surprise that evolutionary theorists also see artistic ability as a powerful tool for sexual selection. The capacity to create vivid paintings, moving music, or compelling stories showcases exactly the traits that signal fitness: intelligence, creativity, emotional depth, and social awareness.
From this perspective, art becomes part of a broader reproductive strategy—a display of adaptive qualities that attract mates and increase the likelihood of passing those traits on to future generations.
In turn, this promotes the survival and flourishing of gene pools—and entire groups—that are enriched with these advantageous cognitive and emotional capacities.
Ironically, the intuition that art serves a deeper, even immortal function was already present long before the development of the evolutionary theory.
In Plato’s Symposium, Diotima suggests that humans seek immortality through creation, whether in children, philosophy, or art.
Much later, thinkers like Otto Rank and Ernest Becker would echo and expand this idea. Rank saw art as a heroic act against death, and Becker, in The Denial of Death, argued that much of human behavior is driven by the awareness of mortality. Artistic creation, he claimed, forms part of our “immortality projects”—symbolic efforts to outlast our finite lives by leaving a lasting mark.
In this light, art becomes the tool that emerges from biological evolution—shaped by cognitive development, emotional regulation, social bonding, and sexual selection—but transcends its origins.
It reaches beyond survival and reproduction toward legacy, memory, and meaning. Art is where biology touches the eternal.
If art is tied to intelligence, vitality, attractiveness, and immortality, then the urge to equip machines with artistic capabilities is not arbitrary—it is an extension of our own evolutionary and existential impulses. When we build AI artists, we do not merely automate creativity. We pass on the very projects that define us. We attempt to imbue our creations with the traits that make us human—imagination, expression, and desire for legacy.
In giving machines the ability to make art, we hand over our symbols of identity and meaning to something beyond us. Perhaps this is not just about automation, but about continuity.
A new kind of cultural offspring.
And this might help explain our enduring fascination with autonomous agents capable of producing art—a fascination that stretches back centuries (see upcoming blog post or related material on AI Art in Wikipedia). In a sense, AI art development could be seen as a kind of Platonic fantasy realized: a merging of offspring creation, philosophical pursuit, and the dream that an artist’s work—or even an entire artistic movement born from their vision—continues to be generated long after their death.
Through machines, the artist’s legacy is no longer merely remembered; it is reanimated.
Unlike human followers, who can die, forget, or lose interest, autonomous AI agents offer the potential of unwavering continuity. They do not age or get distracted —they can preserve, replicate, and perhaps even refine a creative lineage with tireless precision. In this way, they become more than tools; they become vessels of artistic immortality.
While some turn to AI in pursuit of curing disease and overcoming biological death, others use it to transcend mortality in a different way—through the persistence of artistic expression.