An artist is not an artist until they have suffered. An artist whose work is joyous is not an artist.
Throughout history, art has been stalked by torture and disturbances. From Sylvia Plath and Lord Byron to Michelangelo and Vincent van Gogh, it seems that torment follows artists throughout their lives, often seen in association with mental illnesses. It is almost fated that artists are plagued with anguish; even fictional artists seem to fall into this endless pit of suffering that is attributed to a group of individuals.
Do artists nowadays feel pressured to keep up that tortured archetype?
Ultimately, very few people can enjoy a piece of artwork that is fully happy and light-hearted; as humans, we crave feeling, and the easiest way to feel is through dark, disturbing pieces. Artists often feel compelled to rip their hearts open, spilling the contents onto their work, in order to be enticing or interesting. However, utilising these darker elements of their soul can cause artists to internalise that darkness, often letting it consume them.
Hence, the tortured artist.
There is a reason this archetype has survived for so long, and when one thinks of an artist, they usually think of some tragedy they have faced.
A subsection of the tortured artist is isolation. Whilst this isn’t as prevalent in artists nowadays [as they often require an online presence to stay relevant], isolation was a main attribute of a lot of historical artists. They would stay locked up in their homes or just remote from society, typically working on their art, only revealing themselves to get their work published or to unveil their creations. This can be seen with the likes of the Brontë Sisters [whose literary ability was developed in the Yorkshire moors, secluded from society] and Agnes Martin [isolated throughout her childhood – physically and emotionally – until she disappeared in 1967, reappearing the following year only to move to a remote area].
That seclusion was not always wanted, as was seen with Sylvia Plath who never wanted to leave London, which she associated with “brains”. Whilst this isolation wasn’t her ideal, it still played into her poor mental health, and secured her as a tortured artist.
It would be untrue for anyone to claim that artists – typically – aren’t tortured. It is almost expected of artists, a defining feature that decides whether or not their work is of value.
The term itself, upon reflection, may come across as detached. ‘Tortured’ isn’t often a word that is used lightly, and the copious mention of it throughout this article debases the severity of it. Whilst the concept of a tortured artist is inherently interesting to investigate, one cannot – and must not – begin to see these artists as mere evidence to prove a hypothesis.