Who is the best artist? The question misses the point entirely

The Mt Kenya Times

Art
14 November 2026

The Mt Kenya Times

In writing and poetry, the only honest competition is with yourself — and showing up is already a victory

By Grace Wanja

There is no hierarchy in art. No artist is inherently better than another — each simply tells a different story, in a different voice, for a different reason. To ask who the best artist is assumes a kind of competition that art was never designed to host. How does a children’s book author compete with a folklore writer or a physics author? The question answers itself: they cannot, and they should not have to. Each is telling their own story, sharing their own truth, and the world is richer for every version.

Awards, in this light, deserve to be understood for what they truly are — a warm tap on the shoulder, an acknowledgment that says well done for showing up, for being present, for doing the work consistently. They are not a verdict on superiority. When someone wins a prize, they have not been declared better than their peers. They have simply been seen, at that moment, by that particular audience.

In writing and poetry, the only meaningful competition is internal. A writer competes with the version of themselves from last year — refining, deepening, growing. Like a diamond being shaped beneath the earth, each piece of work and each practice session brings greater clarity and brilliance. That is the real journey.

If you have attended a literary event and left without an award, resist the temptation to measure your presence by what you did not receive. The fact that you are there, that you found the courage to write, to recite, to put your ideas into the world — that alone sets you apart. Many people who can speak fluently and tell stories beautifully never do so, because fear holds them back. You are doing it. That is not nothing. That is everything.

Writing for awards alone narrows the purpose of a craft that was built for far greater things. Let recognition be a bonus, not the destination. Write to tell a story. Recite to move people. Create to leave something behind that did not exist before you made it.

A book, when examined honestly, is never the work of one person alone. It begins as an idea in an author’s mind, takes shape through a designer’s eye, is refined by an editor’s hand, carried to readers by a marketing team, and ultimately belongs to the people who read it. Writing is a collective act. That is not a diminishment of the author — it is an affirmation of what literature is for.

When asked what it meant to be recognised among the best authors in Africa at the 2022 Zikomo Zambia Awards, that understanding shaped the response. The recognition was meaningful, but it did not make the work better than anyone else’s. It meant visibility. It meant showing up consistently and presenting the craft with commitment. Visibility is not superiority — it is simply presence.

Art is not a race. It is an interpretation of the world, offered from every conceivable angle, in every conceivable form. Copy no one. Find your own voice, your own rhythm, your own way of seeing. When you bring something genuinely new to your audience, you give them a gift they cannot get anywhere else.

In Africa, writing may not fill pots or pay every bill, but it has rescued countless souls from paths that would have led them astray. It enlightens. It heals. It transforms grief into meaning.

So create — boldly, honestly, and entirely on your own terms.