Victoria Ford

Great Art Comes Only from Those Willing to be Vulnerable

Posted by Victoria Ford, Jun 29, 2012 4 comments


Victoria Ford

Victoria Ford

“Great art comes from great pain.”

A fully loaded and explosive statement if ever there was one, this is the primary proposition in Christopher Zara’s recent book Tortured Artists, a collection of forty-eight profiles on some of the most celebrated artists of the millennium—from Mozart to Woolf, Garland to Disney.

What exactly, though, is Mr. Zara suggesting?

According to the managing editor of Show Business himself, “I never claimed that art cannot be produced without suffering, only that art produced without suffering is not likely to be very good.”

Zara is not the first to remark on behalf of this haunting stock character. In fact, the tortured artist mythology is one that has sustained a life of its own for centuries, overflowing with the same torment associated with the artists in Zara’s collection—full of devout self-hatred, extreme cases of introverted or extroverted tendencies, sexual frustrations, personality disorders, tremendous amounts of substance abuse, and high rates of suicide.

And still beyond any shadow of a doubt, in these ashes were some of the greatest artistic achievements born.

By looking at the profiles and history alone, one might be quick to say art is more formulaic than we ever perceived. True art can be reduced to a mere mathematical equation where anguish stands idly left of the equality sign and magnificence resides on the other (do what you will with the variables).

Of course, my aim is not to present art as a formula. It is also not my desire to debunk the tortured-artist concept entirely. It’s a fascinating one and I want to investigate it more critically.

One way to do this is by irradiating the reasons behind our obsessive desire to understand the inspiration for art, especially those works from artists described by Zara as “long-suffering creative geniuses.” I refuse to settle with the myth that pain is the sole source for our art. Coming from one human being to another, we are far too complex to accept that. And it is for this reason that I would very much like to make a case for vulnerability.

In order to smoothly engage in this sort of conversation, it should be made clear that our vernacular will most certainly differ. Words we traditionally perceive as universal—suffering, pain, genius, and even artistry—are in fact extraordinarily subjective, especially when used in this context.

My own definitions for suffering will not be the same as another’s. This is perhaps because of contrasting political opinions, geographic and cultural backgrounds, personal convictions, and the list continues into sempiternity. Therefore my pain may not be pain to another. Your definition of artistry may counter my own. These differences naturally help to build more fruitful conversation. I only point them out because inevitably those contrasts will surface.

The one thing I think we all can agree on is this: Life is not easy. At some point in our lives, we suffer. So if we all experience suffering and all endure pain, does this mean we all can produce great art?

I doubt this is what Zara wants his audience to take away from his collection; but, it’s the subtle implication that might prove most devastating for aspiring artists who buy into the myth that their hardships will foster compelling work.

So to answer my own question: No. Simply because someone has been through the ringer and back does not mean they’ll be our nation’s next great artist.

I say this with little hesitation because what I’ve learned from studying Sylvia Plath and Arthur Miller and listening to Charlie Parker and Amy Winehouse—all artists profiled in Tortured Artists—is that their work wasn’t entirely rooted in their hardships. Of course it served as an inspiration. But it takes a naïve soul to assume that each of these artists rested on their plights and were then able to manufacture art as a natural response to their experience.

This is a common misconception among inspiring artists, young and older. It’s something I can give an anecdote about myself, since a great deal of my writing is inspired by my familial relationships.

But we cannot summarize our pasts and expect to generate new ideas. Art is a learning experience, and we do not learn from wallowing. It is for this reason that pain is not enough to solve our equation. Pain is simply the opening of a door someone must make the conscience decision to walk through.

Oftentimes, then, it is inside pain when we begin to take the necessary steps toward discerning our artistry. Where only few realize how small they are. Where fewer accept that they are more insignificant then they’d like to admit, but that they are also vastly important. And even fewer are brave enough to become one with their own vulnerability. Because vulnerability is the single universal condition that makes us utterly human. It is also the same condition for which we are immensely afraid.

So to rest on pain as it passes, which the tortured artist concept implies, is to simply rest inside of our own humanity. To discover something from a moment of joy, fear, shock, rage, empathy, appreciation, jealousy, epiphany, or suffering is to become an artist.

And great art comes from great courage.

Great art comes only from those willing to be vulnerable.

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4 responses for Great Art Comes Only from Those Willing to be Vulnerable

Comments

June 29, 2012 at 3:15 pm

These are great ideas to explore. Thank you so much for sharing them!

I think you are 100% correct that vulnerability lies at the center of both our humanity and our capacity for art. I wouldn't say just great art, but I'd say all art. And I wouldn't limit vulnerability to the the sad part of the human condition. Vulnerability means openness. It means having the capacity to be affected. And so while we might point out the suffering that Zara implicates in his examples of 'great' art, it is also this underlying foundation at the core of our being that proclaims we are not done yet, that we have not learned all there is to learn, and that we have not experienced all there is to be experienced.

And so I would say that our vulnerability is the hallmark of our incompleteness, that we can still be affected by the world. And its so much more than simply suffering. We are vulnerable to beauty and to humor. We are vulnerable to ecstatic moments of joy and to moments of pure selflessness. It is our testament to being alive.

So yes, it seems that any art worth the name will have its teeth in a moment or two of vulnerability. It will have roots sunk deep in the well from which we experience the world. And what leads this universal human capacity to creative expression is that it tangles with our imagination. In the cauldron that is the creative soul, our vulnerability finds its cosmic reagent in the fertility of our dreams. And a strange alchemy is born. And we are gifted with art. And we may not even be aware of where it came from, but it is powerful and it is true.

And perhaps it is this openness that we need to encourage more. Perhaps there is a lack of curiosity, a satisfaction and self satisfaction that stunts our creative exploration. Just maybe we are not vulnerable enough. Perhaps it is through encouraging more people to do more with their own creativity that we best reaffirm the value of our vulnerability. Perhaps it is by reminding ourselves that everyone at heart is an artist, that this is our natural birthright, perhaps it is by doing this more consistently in our lives and encouraging it more pervasively in the lives of others, that we build a society that is more sensitive to strange beauty, that is more open to wonder and to the surprise serendipity of our unfolding world. The more we are incurious the less we are vulnerable to the world. And that seems like an awfully important thing to realize.....

Thanks again for your great post. These ARE things worth thinking about.

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July 18, 2012 at 9:08 am

I appreciate the article. I really hate the tortured artist myth. I'm an artist and arts writer. I find that the depression and intoversion that I suffer from only paralyzes my creativity. Real creativity requires clear and lucid thought and concentration.
Not only does the "tortured artist" archetype diminish the value of creativity as an actual form of intellegence, but also plays down the seriousness of mental health.
Further, adolescent art is self-pitying. Good art is able to say nothing about the artist but something about everyone that sees it.

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MT says
May 07, 2013 at 8:51 pm

Actress Julianna McCarthy said, “…if you lose your vulnerability to being hurt by criticism, you lose the very vulnerability that makes you able to be an artist.” So I think she might agree with you Victoria. But I wonder if vulnerability is a choice or is it built-in?

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May 03, 2015 at 4:44 pm

I think one reason why a lot of people create art during pain is because they are alone and able to make more art. It is harder to make art when you are distracted by happiness, others, and busyness. It isn't that you CAN'T make art, it is just more difficult to make time for it.

As in the case of someone who has recently had a heartbreak (loss of loved one, break up, etc), they are now alone and free to spend those broken hours constructively with a paintbrush, pen, or some other medium... rather than working on the relationship and spending time with the one they loved.

I tend to pour myself into creative pursuits when I'm hurting because it is a release that prevents me from other destructive or unhealthy outlets. I'd much rather go shoot wedding photos and edit them, or paint something, or write than sit down and eat an entire wedding cake or do drugs. ;)

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