Does Suffering Lead to Better Art?
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Does Suffering Lead to Better Art?
Ananya Warrier
SY B.Sc Economics (2024-2028)
Reading Time: 5 minutes
I have never really liked sad songs, movies, or books. I don’t mind the occasional dollop of sadness, but still, if I can avoid it, I will. Now, while I wouldn’t crown myself with the grand title of “artist,” I’d still like to think that what I write is worth reading and putting out there – if not for anyone, at least for myself. So, imagine my shock and – frankly – disgust when I fell down a rabbit hole of the “suffering artist” archetype. Essentially, an artist cannot truly become an artist without going through the rite of passage known as “trauma.” They have to have lived through experiences no human should really go through, they have to explore the darkest parts of their minds and souls, they have to burn in the fire of suffering, because how else will they produce good art? After all, “great art disturbs the comforted and comforts the disturbed.” And, there’s so much evidence to support this too – Vincent Van Gogh, Frida Kahlo, Goya, Caravaggio, Jackson Pollock, Beethoven, Mozart, Freddie Mercury, Kurt Cobain, Amy Winehouse, Eric Clapton, Hemingway, George Orwell, Dostoevsky, Virginia Woolf, Sylvia Plath – and you can add any other name I may have missed. But does this justify an artist having to go through so many trials and tribulations just to pursue art?
But how did this start?
This relation between talent and pain and suffering was pointed out recently, after many coincidences were discovered. Vincent van Gogh, who showed signs of mental instability even as his art showed promise, is an oft-cited example. His creative output increased as his illness did, culminating in his completing virtually a painting a day before he took his life. Virginia Woolf, one of the most important 20th century novelists, was a victim of her bipolar disorder. Kurt Cobain and Amy Winehouse, being so talented, naturally had to have some vice that would torment them for the rest of their lives.
Students who took up the arts in ancient times were also subjected to, well, not torture or suffering, but a certain gruelling schedule that pushed oneself to the limits, notably, in ballet. Ballet is an art form that romanticises the pain and misery associated with learning it, where a dancer was not valued based on skill, effort, artistic excellence, but rather on how many challenges they went through, be it physical or mental.
Another common belief is that people who are happy are contented. Contented people do not have any struggle, pain, loss, or conflict, and hence cannot make art that moves you, that evokes a reaction from you, that hits you in the feels.
Why is it bad?
This myth has pervaded the art world so much. Newer artists often talk about how they long to live through a tragedy so that they may be able to create art worthy of acceptance and fame. But people tend to blindly accept this as fact, when research shows that this is not necessarily the case. Artists who go through depressive episodes usually do not find the drive or will to create art, and it is when they have received treatment that they can create art. Van Gogh, arguably the most cited example for the “tortured artist” archetype, also produced some of his greatest works when recovering at the Saint-Paul-de-Mausole asylum, producing over 150 works – including the “Starry Night,” one of his most iconic works.
A study in the European Journal of Social Psychology identified a correlation – when one half of the thirty-eight students were told that the artwork they were looking at was made by an artist (van Gogh, actually) who had struggled in some way; the viewers assessed the work more positively and valued it higher. This does point out that perhaps it is the art world that reinforces this stereotype, rather than the artists themselves. Moreover, there is no actual proof to link mental illness with creativity. The few studies that do exist have small samples and weak methodology. How is creativity measured? “Creativity” is a broad construct that has been defined and operationalised in various ways across the studies that have attempted to examine it. This variety is due to the fact that creativity is likely composed of various facets. Similarly, “mental illness” is a heterogeneous construct that not only encompasses multiple symptoms and diagnoses but also reflects societal and cultural definitions and norms, resulting in changes to diagnostic criteria sets throughout the years.
What exactly constitutes the sample of artists – does it solely include the professional ones who have sold artworks and are recognised in the art world, or can hobbyists also be included? James C. Kaufman stated in his book ‘Creativity and Innovation’ – “What is there to take away from the muddled research? There is enough evidence to believe there is some type of connection between creative genius and some mental health issues. There are also undoubtedly nuanced, domain-specific, and illness-specific connections, some of which have been well-studied and others that may become clearer in time. However, creativity also interacts in a positive way with mental health. From the existing research, I would be hard-pressed to say anything more definitive, and you should be highly skeptical of anyone who claims the debate has been settled.”
Pain is not the only path to expression and creativity. Creativity should be able to help transform any experience – good, bad or ugly – into art. After all, art is supposed to represent all spectrums of emotions and experiences beyond just pain. However, no matter how much anyone may deny or invalidate it, pain does sell. It is the reason we consume series like Adolescence, or war movies about the Holocaust. It is why the artists mentioned above have been so glorified and put atop a pedestal. It is not as if every artist has gotten to their position due to their grief, but it does seem the way we talk about them, the awed reverence with which we whisper their names, does beg the question – have we made pain a prerequisite for greatness, or is that just the story we prefer to tell?