A work of art is an expression, or a reflection, of the artist’s personality. 
Even if there is no reference in it of the artist’s personal life, it still provides us an insight into the artist’s mindset. 
And that holds good for all arts. 
We reveal ourselves by the choices we make.
Even our style is an offshoot of our personality. 

Here’s the opening stanza of THE WASTE LAND:

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm’ aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the arch-duke’s,
My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

Each line has a stamp of Eliot on it. 

Maybe I’m stating the obvious. So you’ll excuse me. 

CR