This, to me, is an interesting discussion. Sometimes, while re-writing, I find myself going back and planting, making things happen twice in two different contexts, and this seems to add
significance. Sometimes, maybe, it does. But building puzzles, where everything fits together, is not necessarily, in itself, art, although it certainly can be found there. But it also exists in stuff that is mediocre. And I find its absence in stuff that transcends.
There is model where you may not actually know, or be able to articulate, what the point is, stuff where "this then that" may have, really, no place. Like James Joyce, Thomas Pynchon, maybe David Lynch.
Mr. Lynch talks about fishing for ideas from something he calls the unified field, which lies beneath consciousness and which has its own logic (or, maybe, is immune to logic--I don't know).
David Foster Wallace talks about a kind of epiphany he had, after watching David Lynch's Blue Velvet, about having, I think, some kind of seemingly super-human confidence, in ... I don't know. In something.
Personally, by the way, I have experimented, intellectually, with this kind of mysticism, this unified field kind of stuff, and have concluded that it is not for me. I don't buy any of it. I, now--arrogantly--dismiss, say, Carl Jung as a table-rapper (and, incidentally, as a horrible human being, lol. )
Anyway. Just, I guess, rambling a little