Artists as provocateurs and their artworks as agents for political activism is not a new concept.

For thousands of years artists have interpreted the challenges that countries and communities have faced with their views and representations considered an important record of history.

And even further back in time Tasmanian Aboriginal petroglyphs, the oldest surviving artworks, were created to share stories.

Petroglyphs are engravings made through hammering and grinding rock surfaces and are said to tell us about creation. They have been stolen, destroyed, used to assist boat launchings, incorporated in shack structures, and vandalised with chisels.

Stolen petroglyphs crudely removed with saws have recently been returned from museums to traditional owners, astonishingly causing heated discourse. We should collectively shake our heads in utter disbelief that the return of artworks to their rightful owners could be even slightly contentious.

Musicians, writers, and visual artists have a long history tackling issues including civil rights, rebellion, anti-war protests, and standing up for movements that define the times.

From symphonies to modern takes, musicians let us know their feelings, mobilising support and lending themselves to causes. Many artists add to their repertoire with introductions and speeches that explain their intentions. Others choose to let their art speak for itself, which is often considered favourable because feeling uncomfortable is rarely the result.

Many artists make us feel uneasy because they deliberately or unwittingly encourage conflict through standing up for what they believe. And this is extremely tough for Tasmanians because everything we talk about involves conflict. The Black War, dam wars, forestry wars, salmon wars, sporting wars, and wars yet to be fought create feelings of uncomfortableness that average punters rarely wish to explore.

But for some they are driven to advocate for their cause or movement at every opportunity, unafraid of heated and passionate disagreement that may ensue.

Tasmanians head to music concerts and art galleries and sporting events trying to escape conflict and confrontation. However, and inevitably, we are followed and stalked by discussion and debate. From festivals to AFL games to community events, we ask each other opinions on the latest announcement, conflict, or decision because these matters occupy the mainstream and social media.

For years, Tasmanian colonial art was defined by landscape paintings, literature describing landscapes, and song lyrics about landscapes. But then came Mona and we opened our eyes to provocative and outrageous art that, although we may not like, makes us think.

Folk music has often been the most common weapon to promote a cause with Woody Guthrie, Joan Baez, Pete Seeger, Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, and Peter, Paul and Mary lending their support to the 1960s civil rights movement across America.

Irish-born Luke Kelly of The Dubliners fame, a storyteller singer and like many Irish heroes a genius who struggled with the drink, was often mistaken as a promoter of division when many of the songs he chose were more about bringing attention to causes rather than inciting trouble. At just 43 years of age, he died from cancerous brain tumors.

The murals depicting "The Troubles" on the Falls Road and Shankill Road in Belfast are now tourist attractions but long before celebrity status they were painted by local artists determined to bring attention to the struggles, violence, and tragedy that ensued during the period.

Both Republicans and Loyalists took to the walls creating artworks that are now heritage-listed or have been replaced with public art because they were considered too offensive. We pay to listen, we pay to view, and we pay to read the works of artists who charm us with their talent. And in doing so we also intentionally or inadvertently pay for their views, often political and often championing a cause.

It makes us feel uncomfortable and we tell ourselves and others who will listen that we did not pay to be lectured. In recent times, I have felt that way. But on reflection I had no right to say it. Artists are artists because they have the courage to express their views. We do not have to agree but nor should we feel a responsibility to silence them because their art makes us uncomfortable.

What we must do is to be cognisant of the impact of conflict. We all need a break from time to time; to reflect, escape, be present, and to self-care.

Conflict and confrontation can drive better decision-making. Adversely, conflict and confrontation can also fill your mind with hate and alter your views with the need to fight the most common response.

The challenge remains because effective modern leadership and decision-making aims to unite even though our views may differ.

As always, I question what I say, and I question what I write. To be provocative is important but should it also come with a level of responsibility to offer solutions? Artists with a pen or an instrument or a paintbrush engage our thoughts and play an essential role in the discourse of communities.

Forever thinking far too much, Tasmania remains our muse and our provocateur.