This week, I’m engaging in a “culture war” with fellow columnist Marcelo Vieira. Together we’re tackling a fundamental cultural question: What is an artist?
While forming my definition of the term “artist,” I must also defend pop culture’s artistic value. Some might call this “defending the indefensible” — in any other column, I probably would too. But stay with me.
There’s really no contest here. Mr. Vieira himself is a musician, while I can’t call myself an artist — this may prove problematic for my argument.
But if one must have an artist’s “swagger” to ponder and appreciate art, doesn’t this disenfranchise the vast majority of an audience, upon whom a professional artist’s livelihood depends?
The masses also have validity, simply by being observers, listeners or readers — and customers.
Shouldn’t the fan base be given more credit?
Here’s where pop culture — whose full name is “popular culture” — comes to the rescue. Although the entertainment  industry often uses popularity contests as  business models, its consumer-driven quality makes it more democratic than traditional “high culture.”
Back to the initial question: What is an artist?
“One who makes art” doesn’t count. It’s a non-definition, only leading to the real question our society can’t answer: What is art itself?
My somewhat inconclusive theory: The concept of art and its creators is a social construction, constantly changing to stay relevant to the general public.
We rely on others to tell us what an artist is, but they just give examples of who they think are artists and not an explanatory definition.
We’ve reached a bit of a cultural identity crisis, where everything that is not absolute can be called art. Apparently, anything controversial, subjective and open to interpretation must be considered art.
And if it comes down to opinion and personal taste, it’s automatically art.
By these criteria, art is merely the opposite of science.
(Note: This definition still doesn’t describe what art is but  only says what it isn’t.)
If you can convince at least one other person to see your creation as artistically valuable (often resulting in acts of sale), it doesn’t matter if someone calls it junk — you’re an artist.
When this swaying system becomes our basis of judgment, we tend to describe everything we like as art and everything we dislike as trash.
I’ve said the Roaring ’20s decade was almost culturally identical to our generation, but I also think 1960s artist Andy Warhol fathered pop culture.
Many art historians believe Warhol obliterated the concrete definition of art with his neon depictions of Marilyn Monroe and Campbell’s soup cans. It’s no coincidence these works are classified as “pop art” — they’re strikingly prophetic of the 21st century’s obsession with celebrity and ad-driven art.
Elitists sneered at Warhol’s work, but Americans flocked to it. We still do, judging by the amount of merchandise from purses to posters reproducing these images.
Warhol believed artists made “things people don’t need to have but he — for some reason — thinks it would be a good idea to give them.”
He championed creating pieces simply for the sake of enjoyment and the love of art. Isn’t inexplicable pleasure an artistic value in itself, regardless of degree of difficulty, skill or usefulness?
The rich and famous shouldn’t have a monopoly on artistry but neither should classically trained artists. The best artists of every medium need timeless staying power, which requires elements of persuasion.
If you can’t use your creations to help others understand the world as you see it, art is just self indulgence. This may be why some “artists” bear the stigma of snobbery. True artists must leave legacies by repeatedly communicating and connecting with their audiences.
But once again, I invoke Warhol’s wisdom: “In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes.”
Even modern composers — artists in the traditional, education-based sense — hardly ever resonate with society unless their masterpieces are attached to pop culture elements like movies.
Artists and scientists use opposite work ethics. Where the latter prove their ideas credible by experiments, artists must convince others their contribution is worthy. (Even now, I can’t tell you what I think artists are — only what they do).
For both mainstream and classical artists, it’s a constant struggle for the confidence vote. The battle rages on, but the pop culture defense rests.
Kelly Hotard is a 19-year-old mass communication sophomore from Picayune, Miss. Follow her on Twitter @TDR_khotard.
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Contact Kelly Hotard at [email protected]