above painting, The Daydream, circa 1964, oil on back of Masonite panel
I could answer that easily by saying well, making art is what I want to do.
Perhaps a better answer is needed.
Someone created a web site devoted to artists’ answers to the question:
I make art because I love creating things.
I make art to get people to think.
I make art to take part in conversations that were going on before me and conversations that will go on long after I’ve gone.
Because I would explode if I didn’t.
I began drawing early in life. When I think back I know that the times when I felt content and happy, without a worry in my head-at peace, were those times I was drawing or painting. Years would go by when I made no art at all but always there was my inner voice nagging, cajoling, pleading to take the time for painting.
Making art is my essential self. I paint with pastels almost every day now. I don’t know why I have a need to make a visual record of something I’ve seen or felt or remembered. And when I do, I don’t know why it seems important that at least one person understands what I’m saying.
Making art is simply the most fun thing I know of to do.
Maybe that’s the best answer.
The Waiting Room Mirror, pastel