Thy Must Suffer
The image of the tortured artist has long been ingrained in the collective consciousness. There are countless examples, from all artistic fields, of artists who channeled their pain into powerful artworks: Edvard Munch painted his famous The Scream (1893) shortly after his mother’s death; Frida Kahlo’s Self-Portrait with Cropped Hair (1940) was painted in the aftermath of her breakup from Diego Rivera; Nirvana’s entire discography carries the weight of Kurt Cobain’s suffering; Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar (1963) is a reflection on her mental health issues—I could go on forever. But in the end, the question it all comes down to is this: does all good art come from suffering?
Natalie Portman as Nina Sayers in Black Swan (2010). Available via Looper. © All rights belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
There are two things to be taken into account when investigating this question: what the nature of imagination and creativity is, and what ‘good art’ means. To begin with, the connection between creativity and suffering has most decidedly taken shape in the Romantic period, so in the early 19th century. The prototype was Lord Byron, the most notorious English Romantic poet and the first-ever global celebrity. Famously described as ‘mad, bad, and dangerous’ and incredibly successful in his literary pursuits, Byron is seen as the very embodiment of the Romantic era. But this connection can be traced all the way back to Plato, who believed that the poets were mad. If this connection between artists and mental health issues has been around since ancient times and if, still today, in the 21st century, we can find examples that reinforce it, there must be some truth to it, right?
Now, the answer to what constitutes good art is highly subjective, but the one consensus seems to be that it is that which makes us feel something, which conjures up powerful emotions. Good art is the one that stays with you after you’ve interacted with it. At the same time, it is generally acknowledged that what we term ‘negative’ emotions (sadness, anxiety, anger, grief, etc.) are much more intense than positive ones. This type of emotions are generally accompanied by physical symptoms such as a racing heart or a tight chest and these sensations linger. With that being said, a work of art infused with its creator’s pain will transfer those emotions to the viewer, thus triggering that powerful emotional reaction that ‘good’ art is supposed to provoke. One question wouldn’t leave my mind while writing this: is the piece of art good because it awakens emotion or does it awaken emotion because it is good?—something to think about.
Benicio del Toro as Moses Rosenthaler in The French Dispatch (2021). Available via sayitwithcaptions. © All rights belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
This idea of the transmission of feelings is actually very interesting. This is the main principle behind art therapy, that the creative process behind making art helps individuals process their emotions. The tortured artists channel their pain into their art and thus begin to process their emotions. Similarly, the viewer, confronted with this powerful display of sentiment, will be moved into self-reflection. If we look at the connection between art and pain in this way, then we could change the narrative from art as a product of suffering into art as a catalyst for healing. This whole idea of the artist suffering for his art and being plagued by torment is awfully romantic, but it can also be toxic. It poses the threat of romanticizing pain and mental health issues. True as it may be that good art comes from a place of darkness, flipping the script might shed some light on the situation.
