i wonder if i am my own work of art?

maybe this is why it's been such a struggle for me
to paint only one kind of painting. I have painted flowers, landscapes, portraits, still lifes, abstract. I have also managed to make everything i encounter as a work of art, such as my home, my wardrobe and quite recently my wedding.

what if i'm not meant to show my paintings as the actual work of art, but actually
show them as windows to my real work of art which is myself?

as i further ponder this idea, i begin to understand that each person is their own work of art. no one understands this as well as the artist, who's high self awareness helps them create works of self expression. many successful artists that i have encountered or studied show a self awareness that is out of the ordinary. i have come to understand that every artist's life's work is themselves. i feel the need to even go further as to say that every person's life is their own work of art. they may not conciously be aware of it, but with every encountered circumstance, they are making choices that are like a brush on a canvas... a chisel on marble.

so i question myself:
if my work of art is myself
just like everyone's being is their own work of art...
then what is so special about me?

then i tend to answer:
much like Andy Warhol presented his ordinary Brillo Boxes as works of art, i present myself.

however, imagine walls surrounding this exhibit and the walls are dotted with small windows that show only fragments of what is really there...

what if my paintings are those windows? and, through each window, one sees a small part of my whole being?

have i finally gone crazy? or is this my feable attempt to b.s. the artworld into celebrating me for who i am?

I really can't see myself doing only one kind of art. because i fear that it would be dishonest. what is art afterall but honesty?