What is art for?

When the artist
does their art,
are they looking
for beauty:
for that which is pleasing,
filled with symmetries
and flows
to take the eye
and make one smile?

Is that art?

Perhaps art is about beauty,
much like Plato thought:
something pure,
caught up in forms that
transform the viewer,
to be admired and costly
in its array of composition
and depth of skill.

Or is it something else beside?

About risk and daring,
taking the viewer away,
shaped to defy the eye of pleasure,
waiting and wanting more,
teasing with its possibilities,
and demanding something
beyond mere giving.

When art is created
it is felt,
stays close like
an enemy and a friend,
draws one out
and draws one in,
and makes the viewer think
that beauty
is never simple,
nor neat.