A man can only remember so much. Just enough to learn from past mistakes. A man can only faintly remember his happiness and joy and, at times can only faintly remember his pain and loneliness.
A man wants to remember. It is a need that he himself does not understand why.
A man once told the day's work into song and then at night drew crude pictures on the wall. A man once wrote his thoughts on papyrus and then expressed through music with his instruments. A man once painted his imagination in canvas right before he announced it in poetry. Then a man mastered light and sound and he took pictures and records instead.
A man chooses his medium, ancient or new, and he uses it to express his thoughts, imaginings and most importantly, the emotions of the present that he knows would instantly become past. A man feared he forget, so he invented art.
Art was invented because a man needed to remember. A copy of one moment of the present that has become past, no matter how crude that copy may be,