Image by CDD20 at Pixabay
Is great art born only from difficulties and tragedy? Or can inner peace and satisfaction write poetry, paint a picture, or chip away enough marble to reveal a David or Pieta?
I remember debating that question in my senior literature class in high school. The conclusion we drew as teenagers is long forgotten but I’ve returned to the question many times since then. I want to say yes, the best of human artistic creation comes from inner conflict, longing, and suffering of any kind. It just feels right. But the practical side of me can’t fully concede. Love can make people happy and often poetic. Song writers compose odes to joy as well as to war. And how about that Bob Ross? He was nothing short of delightful.
But there does seem to be a deep and important connection between the arts and our inner struggles and personal tragedies. Sometimes I need to wallow in sad songs. Other times I search for an inspirational read that will lift me out of my troubles. When I’m feeling energized and hopeful, however, I tend to celebrate with ice cream or TV. Writing, reading, or making music are the last things on my mind when I’m coasting happily through a good day.
Just because I lack artistic motivation when I’m happy doesn’t mean everyone else needs despair or degradation to create beautiful things. Or at least commercially successful things. But that’s really two separate situations. Creation because it’s part of your job can certainly happen regardless of state of mind. You have to design that park; you’re contracted to do the show. The release date for the next potboiler in your trilogy is approaching. Cranking out content isn’t the same as crafting a masterpiece. Is it?
I definitely want that answer to be no. But even as I write that I realize it exposes my amateurity (I created that word myself!) Many revered artists talk about the discipline that shapes their craft. They get up at 4AM so they can write undisturbed. Or they eschew alcohol and junk food to sharpen their minds and senses. I read a study years ago about top tier violinists who all shared the habit of sleeping a minimum of eight hours per night.
The fact that those habits are deliberate and cultivated means mood is not part of the process. At least not all the time. That’s actually good news because it puts control back in our hands. When you are the creator, the author, the performer, you can’t afford to wait until you’re in the mood. That could take years (fans of the band Boston know that all too well.) There simply is no mood when you know you’re called to do something. It has to be the way I approach working out. Every day I walk and run, whether I feel like a Greek god or a cold turtle. My physical and mental health demand it. There’s no negotiation.
Is that what Orwell, Beethoven, and Hawking knew? Tolstoy? Michelangelo? No one would argue these men were at the top of their fields. But how did they feel about themselves? Did they go to their labs or studios or offices knowing they would accomplish something meaningful each day? Or did they know that showing up often enough meant they would eventually succeed?
I can only speak for myself when I say that I don’t generate quality content every day. Truth is, however, I’m not always trying. Because my writing is a side hustle (at least for now) I don’t force any effort towards it. I love diving into a topic and researching and learning. But I’m employed full time. There’s only so much energy to go around. Some of it has to fuel the work that brings in the regular paycheck. That means I may be spent by the time I can carve out time to write. Exhaustion yields poor results.
Emotional exhaustion, however, seems to subside when I recognize and examine it. When I feel pushed around or overwhelmed, I want to dump that negative energy somewhere. To release its stranglehold on me. In that way, sadness or tragedy do, in fact, motivate me.
But no one wants to be sad or lonely so he can write a touching poem or love song. It’s simply true that one must work despite, or because of, one’s mood. That any day is the day for an idea. Or a chapter. Or a schematic.
Another consideration is that the greatest artists and thinkers probably don’t/didn’t spend much time worrying if they’re getting enough done. My hunch is that they’re concerned with results and consistency, which might show up as planning and analysis rather than product. Adopting that kind of patient attitude can be difficult if you work for someone else and their demands run your life, or at least a big part of it. Certainly no one expected Mozart to take time out from composing to mow the lawn or run payroll. I doubt that Feynman conducted parent teacher conferences or had chaperoning duties that kept him out of the lab.
Those of us still in the rat race have decisions to make every day about where our energy will go and what tasks we will prioritize. Perhaps it’s the ability to continually place a majority of one’s creative powers into one’s most treasured goals that separates the greats from the sort-of-okays.
Folks like Toni Morrison or James Joyce didn’t need permission from anyone to dedicate the best parts of their minds and souls to their work.
So what are the rest of us waiting for? No one is going to say, go ahead and pen that novel. Or paint for a year and open your own gallery. Or whatever it is you want to do. Not because no one cares (although some folks might disapprove of or discourage you.) But because others are battling indecision about how to make their lives their own as well. Each one of us has to make a plan for ourselves.
That’s a lot harder than just going to work everyday and allowing someone else to decide your priorities. The will to make decisions about one’s own destiny is another thing that separates not only the greats from the sort-of-okays, but the I’m-scared-but-I’m-still-doing-its from the what-difference-does-it-make-anyways.
I suppose it takes both kinds to make the world go round, but it’s rather easy to tell which attitude is more effective. And rewarding.
I can’t wait to get home from work tomorrow. So I can really get to work.