Artists all deserve the rope, whether they rope themselves or get someone else to do it.
Artists have degenerative brain disorders that make it physically impossible for them to to form a coherent thought that isn't up its own ass upon conception. This mental dysfunction such stress on the artist's mind that the only way to cope with the surrounding world is to degenerate everything around them to fall into these deranged philosophies.
They often see things that are "childish" or not expressly in service to "art" and become incensed; the first thought an artist will have upon seeing someone enjoying those "non-art" aspects of something is to first make it clear that "this thing can NEVER be taken seriously as long as people appreciate these things" as though the statue of David or Mozart's 5th symphony are any less beautiful because they are enjoyed on a level beyond awe for the joy of creation; most people do not create in a way that is perceptible, and thus is the self-induced delusion of the artist.
An artist observes the world as black and white, the black being those who consume, and white, those who create. In reality, a lot of people do create, or have some creative thoughts, but don't tap into them in day to day lives. It is the ignorant artist who goes out of his way to inform the world that they are, instead, solely responsible for holding creativity and culture on their back, as though they themselves have become as god. Artists are tyrants in this way, enforcing strict standards, oppressing those who call their creations for what they are, and seek to refuse those who do not create in the express way they do from outlining any standard of critique against them. The artist has never gummed their hands with dirt or grime, and thus do not understand the workers of the world that they create on the backs of, and so it lends to their absurd world view that the only true path is creation, and all others are falsehoods. They believe they are above any system, they believe there is no price or coin that could be exchanged for their intellect, and there is no greater struggle than that of an artist. They simultaneously believe in a fantasy that all others can live their dreams, but for the artist their dream is shunned and oppressed by society, and there is no profit to be made; if they truly cared about art for the love of it then they would die before their works alone in the world. In the eyes of an artist, everyone else is simply imagining themselves as highly as they possibly can, and back to the artist's pompous attitude, the artists undoubtedly believes that the clerk whom the artist shuffles supplies beneath their nose is simply not capable of thoughts big enough to imagine a higher goal.
This absurd world the artist spins for themselves becomes a dystopia for themselves, since everyone else is able to freely live their dreams, but the artist, who dreams of creation for creation's sake, is met with the harsh reality that simple creation is no a unique talent, or worse yet, they believe their creation is underappreciated by the weak and meek masses who simply do not have the brains to understand creation. The deny their own reality, supplanting a falsehood that consumes them until they die. For this reason, I think the artist deserves it.
The artist has worked tirelessly to die, and that should be readily provided to them. If they wish to live in a world ruled by only their thoughts, they may be ruled by those thoughts in a long and endless sleep run from a red river down their arms. They wish to be a tyrant; little king, you may stamp your feet as a ghost all you like, and think yourself the king of cosmos. God, and all, they wish to be, and so they may become a god of a far away place hereafter.
I say all this, and it is with great hatred and evil in my very soul, that I think artistry for its own sake is nonsense in the same way that creating a cup when you have nothing to drink is foolhardy. I reject the notion that anything should be labeled as art, because it does nothing to define the work, and even less than genre titles. It's as compelling to call two things art as it is to simply inform someone that Billy Ray Cyrus and Robert Plant are both singers; are we to assume that all these things are created equally? Is something that is made badly suddenly not considered art? Is something that is created well to be considered art, or is it only middle-tiered works that do not inspire at all? Who decides what is good or bad? Is objective reasoning the only observation that may be made for art's quality, or are there personal, subjective aspects that make the quality differ from person to person? Art itself is as outdated a term, and describes such a vague concept that if you were to ask someone off the street what art is, their answer would certainly be something similar to, "something that makes you feel a certain way," and will become confused if you ask them if a particularly brutal shit you took is considered art.
Fuck art, fuck artists, and this discussion is not video games.