Which came first: man or painting?

The Silent Voice of Art

Man began to create art when he developed self-awareness and awareness of others—long before spoken language or written, codified language existed.

Paleolithic humans carved images of large bison, reindeer, and mammoths onto cave walls as a form of ritual. As if by drawing reality as they wished it to be, they could somehow influence it. This same idea is reflected in the creation of prehistoric Venus figurines—small sculptures of female figures with exaggerated breasts and bellies—symbols of prosperity.

Taking a leap forward into the Neolithic age, these representations changed. We begin to see geometric and abstract symbols: a few strokes used to depict everyday objects, people, and animals. Just as the style evolved, so too did the purpose—art became a means of documentation and information: a kind of pre-language.

These two historical periods established the foundations of the two enduring purposes of artistic representation: art as a means of expressing existential questions, and art as a tool for communication.

Throughout history, this dual nature has often intertwined so closely that it’s hard to distinguish one from the other. At other times, the two have diverged so drastically that one might wonder how they could ever be two sides of the same coin.

But what really gives value to an artistic expression?

The artist? Consider that for much of the Roman Empire, artworks were rarely signed—exceptions were rare and isolated.

The materials used? Perhaps—but if that were the case, a gold tooth would be considered more of a masterpiece than a sketch by Leonardo da Vinci, and we know that’s not true.

The value society attributes to the artwork? Again, the answer remains uncertain. Think of the many artists—Van Gogh, for example, or Egon Schiele—who were not recognized until long after their deaths.

It’s not easy to answer this question, because art doesn’t have a complete, all-encompassing definition. The dictionary tells us it is “any form of human activity that demonstrates or exalts their inventive talent and expressive ability.” But in light of what we’ve just explored, this feels incomplete and unsatisfying.

Surely, an artistic form can be defined as something outside the ordinary—an ecstatic act, a kind of complete escape from reality. But the phrase “inventive talent” doesn’t do justice to what truly lies behind an artist. "Inventive" implies creating something from nothing, yet an artist does more than invent—they re-invent. All art is rooted in inspiration. It is an endless chain of interpretation—of life lived, seen, desired, loved, hated, suffered… of all that is human.

This idea is perfectly embodied in the myth of Butades’ daughter, the potter’s child. In love with a young man who was about to leave, she traced the outline of his shadow on a wall by lantern light. Her father, a skilled terracotta artisan, shaped what legend holds to be the first portrait in history. This myth tells us that art was born to soothe pain, to fill a void left by life’s circumstances.

The canvas itself becomes a space that artists fill with their language—a visual language made up of symbols, colors, light and shadow, lines, emotions, and mystery. Many artists are remembered as tormented souls who live life to the bone, in a relentless pursuit of perfection, obsessed with expressing through their art what about life torments their minds. Too sensitive for sharp, defined words, they speak in lines and colors.

Of course, the question posed by the title is intentionally provocative and meant to remain unanswered—like the most ancient of riddles from which it draws. But it’s striking to think that for thousands of years, humans have used drawing to tell the story of the world—and not just that, but to tell the story of themselves, of their pain, to capture what is fleeting, to leave a trace. Because at the heart of it, that is every human’s desire: not to be forgotten, and to create something that will remain after we are gone.

Works of art awaken shared emotions in their time and in future generations because of their universal essence—because they have the power to gather us all around their mute voice.