The Eighth Art: Why your favorite video game belongs in a museum

When you think of a museum, what comes to mind? Is it the silent, stoic gaze of a marble statue or the vibrant, chaotic brushstrokes of a post-impressionist painting? For decades, video games have been relegated to the realm of children’s toys or simple entertainment, a pastime rather than a profound cultural expression. Yet, the tide is turning. The complex narratives of The Last of Us, the breathtaking world design of Elden Ring, and the poignant emotional journeys in games like Celeste challenge this outdated perception. This article will explore why video games are not just a burgeoning art form but are, in fact, the Eighth Art, a unique synthesis of existing disciplines that has more than earned its place within the hallowed halls of our cultural institutions.

Beyond pixels: The convergence of artistic disciplines

At its core, a video game is a masterclass in artistic convergence. It is a medium that does not simply borrow from other arts but integrates them into a single, cohesive, and interactive experience. Think of the most memorable games you have played. They are not defined by a single element but by the seamless fusion of many. This includes:

• Visual Arts: From the initial concept sketches to the final 3D models and environments, games are a visual spectacle. Titles like Okami use a Sumi-e ink wash style to create a living painting, while the stark, beautiful desolation of Shadow of the Colossus relies on principles of architecture and composition to evoke a sense of scale and loneliness.
• Music and Sound Design: A game’s score is not just background noise; it is the emotional heartbeat of the experience. The soaring orchestral themes of The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim or the subtle, generative soundtrack of Minecraft are as integral to their worlds as any visual component. Sound design crafts the auditory landscape, making the world feel tangible and real.
• Literature and Writing: Modern games present narratives with the depth and complexity of great novels. The branching dialogue and philosophical explorations of Disco Elysium or the intricate world-building and character arcs in The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt demonstrate a sophisticated level of writing that drives the player’s emotional investment.

A game is a digital tapestry woven from the threads of painting, sculpture, architecture, music, and literature. It stands on the shoulders of these established arts to create something entirely new.

The art of interaction: Agency as the unique brushstroke

If video games were merely a collection of other art forms, they would be impressive multimedia projects, but not a distinct art form in their own right. The element that elevates them, the “unique brushstroke” that no other medium possesses, is interactivity. Unlike a film or a novel where you are a passive observer, a game requires your participation. You are not just told a story; you become a co-author of it. This concept of player agency is the defining characteristic of the Eighth Art.

Consider the moral dilemmas presented in Telltale’s The Walking Dead. The emotional weight of a decision is amplified exponentially because you are the one who has to make it, often under immense pressure. The game’s art is not just in the pre-written scenario but in the gut-wrenching feeling it provokes within the player. Similarly, the emergent storytelling found in games like Breath of the Wild allows for unscripted moments of beauty and discovery. A player might stumble upon a scenic vista at sunset not because a director framed it, but because their own curiosity led them there. The experience is personal, unique, and a direct result of their interaction with the game’s systems. This is an artistic dialogue between the creator and the audience, a conversation that can only happen through play.

Curating code: Preserving the ephemeral experience

Recognizing video games as art brings a critical challenge: how do we preserve and exhibit them? A painting can be hung on a wall, but a game is a complex piece of software intrinsically tied to specific, and often obsolete, hardware. This is a significant curatorial hurdle that museums like New York’s Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) have already begun to tackle. MoMA’s acquisition of games like Pac-Man and Portal was not just about acquiring code; it was about preserving the concept of interaction itself.

Curation involves more than just making a game playable on an emulator. It requires providing context. To display Pong today, a museum must explain its revolutionary impact in the 1970s. It involves showcasing concept art, design documents, and musical scores to reveal the layers of craftsmanship. The exhibition might include a playable version, a video of a masterful playthrough, or even an exploration of the source code as a designed artifact. Preserving games is about safeguarding a cultural experience. It ensures that future generations can not only see but also understand these pivotal works of interactive art and the technological and cultural moments they represent.

From blockbuster to indie gem: The diverse gallery of gaming

Like any mature art form, the world of video games is not a monolith. It is a vast and diverse gallery filled with works of all scales, budgets, and intentions. On one end of the spectrum, you have the AAA blockbusters. Games like Red Dead Redemption 2 are monumental undertakings, employing hundreds of artists, writers, and programmers to create sprawling, photorealistic worlds with cinematic storytelling that pushes the boundaries of technology. They are the grand, epic frescoes of the medium, designed to awe and immerse millions.

On the other end, you have the vibrant independent scene. Indie games are the equivalent of arthouse films or fringe theater. With smaller teams and more modest budgets, creators are free to experiment with mechanics, aesthetics, and themes. Games like Journey offer a silent, beautiful cooperative pilgrimage, while Papers, Please uses simple gameplay to create a powerful commentary on bureaucracy and morality. Celeste skillfully weaves its challenging platforming mechanics into a touching story about mental health. This incredible diversity is a sign of a healthy, thriving artistic medium, where both grand statements and intimate, personal stories can coexist and find an appreciative audience.

Conclusion

The debate is over. Video games are not aspiring to be art; they already are. By synthesizing traditional arts like music, writing, and visual design into a single package, they lay a familiar foundation. But it is their defining feature of interactivity, the power of player agency to shape experience and co-author a story, that truly establishes them as the Eighth Art. From technically ambitious blockbusters to deeply personal indie projects, the medium displays a breathtaking range of expression. The challenge now lies not in proving their worth, but in preserving it. Placing a game in a museum is not a novelty; it is a necessary act of cultural curation, recognizing these interactive masterpieces for what they are: significant, influential, and powerful artistic works of our time.

Image by: Ricky Esquivel
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