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03/19/2007: "Depression: The Artist's Malaise"
(Please note, this section is lifted from Living the Artist’s Life.) Not until I was well into my thirties, did I realize that I had been suffering from some form of depression since childhood. Depression was so much a part of my nature that I never bothered to examine it, or its causes. Instead I simply assumed that it would be my life-companion, that I was something of a freak, and that I’d just have to make the best of it. I hadn’t known anything different, and therefore had no reason to believe that I would ever experience a life lived otherwise. On top of this I was a bit neurotic, being a writer, but that seemed to level out over the years, as have many of my insecurities. As a writer, I’ve had the advantage of working out my problems through the millions of words I’ve written. Not everyone is so fortunate.
Well I’m not a freak, and never was. Neither are you. The truth is, most of the human race suffers from depression in one form or another. For some it’s merely an occasional bout, fleeting and brief; for others it’s of greater duration, making even the simplest tasks onerous; for still others, it’s so crippling that it makes life itself an impossible burden. Coming from a family of two suicides and its share of emotional illnesses, I suppose I know a little bit about depression of that sort.
In comparison to people who are severely, or clinically, depressed, my own case would have been considered mild. It never seemed mild to me—hailing from the background that I did—but that’s because I was the one living it. It’s also because I, in my youthful bouts of self-pity, mistakenly believed that my life was hard to the point of being unendurable. I had a lot to learn about that which is truly hard, all the things that actually are endurable, and being grateful for what one has.
Does this mean that my difficulties were easy? No. There is nothing easy about being branded a “loser” as a child, enduring an extremely bizarre adolescence, writing in obscurity for two decades, and still raise a family, open a struggling gallery, juggle the threat of bankruptcy for ten years, succeed through sheer will alone, care for all the people you must, daily battle your darknesses, and nightly gain what rest you can. That isn’t easy. Life isn’t easy. If it were, we wouldn’t learn a thing in the process of living it.
But there are far worse conditions to live under, and those are endured by the bulk of the world’s people, in the bulk of the world’s nations, every day: in China, Russia, Iraq… In comparison to those impoverished conditions, as well as the misery that so many people endure in our own country, yes, my case was indeed mild.
When did the depressions first begin for me? I think when I was about eight, when I first realized I didn’t really fit in anywhere (as most artists don’t), and was terrified that I never would. By the time I was thirteen, this condition made me feel unworthy. By the time I was fifteen, it, and other difficulties, drove me into bouts of erratic and destructive behavior. By the time I was eighteen, I’d resolved to deal with my shortcomings through hard work, aggression and arrogance. By the time I was twenty-one, I realized that the arrogance had backfired too, that I’d driven away most of my friends, seemed incapable of making new ones, and felt farther than ever from finding my place in the world. I couldn’t carry on a conversation, couldn’t seem to snap out of my inner darkness, and didn’t feel truly alive. What I did feel was unwanted, untalented, and without purpose. My depressions deepened.
This led to my first breakdown, which I experienced in college. I still remember the hallucinations, the killing despair, the inability to get out of bed, eat, or even answer the phone. Any thought of going to class wasn’t entertained, but thoughts of suicide certainly were. That is until I read Nietzsche: “The thought of suicide is a great consolation: by means of it one gets successfully through many a bad night.”
Why didn’t I take that final step? I guess in the end I realized I just wasn’t made that way, and decided to try to accomplish something with the gift of life instead. So I finished with college and hit the road, structuring no career beyond that of the wandering artist, throwing everything I had into the writing basket. Unwise move? Perhaps, but ultimately there are no half-measures in art. It’s either all or nothing. That’s part of the insanity of it. It’s part of the beauty too.
That first breakdown shadowed me, and everything I did, for two years: it followed me to California, Alaska, and Connecticut, never letting me relax. Then I had my second breakdown, in a dark winter in a cabin in New England. I won’t go into what happened that time, or how long it lasted, but a friend helped coax me out of it, and eventually taught me something about the worth of bearing one’s burdens with a certain stoicism.
That was in 1983, and that was my last breakdown. Now? I suppose I’ve been humbled too much, have accomplished too much, love life and art and people too much, to ever go down that road again. I’ve learned the essential trick of never taking myself too seriously. I’ve learned to approach life with humor and gratitude, as well as with a determination to never let personal events, or disasters, destroy my essential optimism—an optimism that has been earned through, and tempered by, considerable adversity.
How did I manage to leave the darkness and come to live in a world of light? I’d love to tell you that story, but that would be a book in itself. Besides, I’ve never fully defeated my depressions; I suspect I never will. At least twice each year I still go through a pretty bad bout, and each time it lasts for a couple of months. But from experience I know that the depression will eventually lift, and that I only have to keep my artistic vision intact, in order to emerge from it. It helps too that I have many people who count on me, and who look to me for guidance. I suppose you could say that many of those people love me, but the only reason they do is because I’ve given much love to them—a thing that I value even beyond my work (well, as much as my work, which is going pretty far for an artist).
Why have I told you all this? Because I want you to know that if this is one of your difficulties, you’re far from alone. Depression is a common malaise, even more common among artists. I mean look at what you’re up against: nobody needs your work; when you’re unknown, no one wants it; for years you’ll struggle to emerge from the amateur level to the professional, and even then people will be largely indifferent to the thing you create; you’ll have to surmount enormous odds to ever make a living from your work; you can’t walk away from it because it won’t let you; you have to create, even if it kills you; and the whole time you’re trying to give this gift of wonder to the world, the world doesn’t hear you because it, for the most part, doesn’t speak that language. Who the hell wouldn’t be depressed?
But take heart. Consider how fortunate you are to have your talent and vision, when many people don’t even know the deeper meaning of vision. Consider how fortunate you are to feel alive. That is nothing to be depressed about. That is cause for jubilation.
I know there is no general prescription for everyone’s private nightmares, and I would be a fool if I believed I could assuage them through the writing of this simple tome. Still I urge you to solve your difficulties as best you can, whether on your own, with the help of a therapist, or just the support of those who are close to you. By doing this, you’ll grow stronger, and be better able to give to others–surely one of the primary reasons for our existence. From inner strength comes good work. Good work can also come from suffering, loneliness, heartbreak, and anger, but in the long run the best work will come from inner strength. Strive for that. You can attain it if you’re willing to pay the price of earning it.
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AUTHOR BIO
Paul Dorrell is a novelist and gallery owner. He founded Leopold Gallery in 1991. As an art consultant, his clients include H&R Block, G.E., the Mayo Clinic, and hundreds of others. His guidebook for artists, "Living the Artist's Life," took him on a tour of 60 cities. He's been interviewed on numerous NPR stations, in dozens of newspapers, and now teaches career seminars for artists. He's also a writer for "The Artist's Magazine."
Replies: 30 Comments
on Friday, April 13th, izzy said
Every year there is one new sleazy collector who discovers that women in the art world are easy prey, and decides to hit the art fair/opening circuit in lieu of, or in addition to the international club scene.
This year Roger Evans, viagra swilling, balding, 60 something venture capitalist, is hitting the trail to hit on a woman near you. From New York to Miami (he was a paticularly active lech at miami-basel last weekend), London and California, he's on the prowl dangling his money in search of fresh meat to exploit. His long time play to establish himself in the New York party scene failed miserably despite investing in clubs owned by Amy Sacco and the efforts of longtime on/off girlfriend and connected party girl Sarita Tabarez.--- and he's been left with a sleazy reputation among those in the society/celebrity set-- Now Mr. Evans has recruited the help of art consultant Dominique Levy to hook him up with art events, and is on a tireless quest to take advantage of all the flesh the artworld can provide.
Don't let the Elmer Fudd exterior and Northern English accent fool you. This man knows how to womanise like Austin Powers in true revenge of the nerds dot com style. Wake up girlfriend... he's not going to help your career in art.
So a word to the wise... If you have a rivalry of some sort, go ahead and sic this guy on your worst enemy, but otherwise, steer clear and advise your women friends to focus on their work instead of wasting their time.
on Monday, April 9th, Rick said
I think that Depression manifests itself in many different ways, for example in the works of artist Maquiamelo we could see at first sight just one more oil but between the layers there are some pain and darkness.
I'm not try to adopt the posture of mMaquiamelo or another great master or writer like Emil Cioran, in my own experience maybe paint saves me from myself.
Rick
on Saturday, March 31st, Paul Dorrell said
Ron: Camus remains one of my favorite authors. Someday, when white boys can return to Algeria, I'd like to visit Algiers.
Stephen: Sure, better to share honestly than remain locked in incommunicative silence--although silence does have its virtues.
Jeff: This is a more common bio than I ever realized when I first wrote it.
KD: Lord, you went through every parent's worst nightmare. Interesting how you dealt with it, and how your sons did. It sounds to me that you certainly are able to teach them about inner strength. That, with laughter, is a pretty good thing to learn.
on Friday, March 30th, KD Alford Johnson said
Thanks for opening the subject of depression, Paul. I skimmed through the comments, then I went back and read them again. WOW- very inspirational! I wonder if there is anyone who has not been depressed at some time in their life. I have been. My mom has been for years. I buy books all the time to help me work through problems. The last book has helped me already and I have a story from my own life that illustrates what I just learned.
Two of my sons were in the same car, hit by a drunk driver five years ago. All the kids were injured with broken bones,etc... but one son was injured more and required several surgeries during his first year in high school. He was very traumatized and still struggles with depression and OCD. The other son was walking around right after the accident on a broken leg trying to help his little brother and his girlfriend. He is doing really well in his life and does not seem traumatized.
Yesterday, I bought a book (mostly to help my son) called 'WAKING THE TIGER- HEALING TRAUMA' by Peter Levine and read the first two chapters. Later, I picked up my nightstand book and read a little, like I do each night, and found the same thought expressed by the Dali Lama in 'Worlds in Harmony'!
When we are unable to respond in an active, constuctive way to an extreme situation, we become overwhelmed and 'frozen'. Depression and other mental problems manifest. Mentally saving ourself from the "tiger", which is the threat or overwhelming situation, releases our stray feelings of stress and helplessness and replaces the frozen feeling with a feeling of sucess. The Dali Lama says that we can increase our inner strength when we are ovewhelmed. Being overwhelmed by anything, good or bad is when we are susceptible. We feel overwhelmed when we are vulnerable. Frozen, like the prey of the tiger.
Today I feel much lighter! I fought off one of my tigers last night! No longer was I the frozen prey facing the huge teeth and sharp claws bigger than my head! I did something very creative to save myself! I hope this helps somebody who is struggling or that they read this very helpful book. Now, I must go paint! Doing something constructive always, always helps! Writing is GREAT! Sometimes I think I do more writing than painting, anyway! KD
on Sunday, March 25th, Jeff (weseye) Wesley said
This is my biography, except that I am a visual artist.
Keep Arting!
Jeff (weseye) Wesley
Artist, designer, sculptor
on Thursday, March 22nd, stephen anderson said
thanks for sharing your story. I can identify completely. hearing stories from others breaks the silence.
on Thursday, March 22nd, Ron Massey said
Depression is something that all people have to some degree at times in their life. Most people dont know what to do with it and either submit to it or suppress it. What makes creative people different is that they often find, along with the other two, a third way to deal with it. At times this can manifest in good art, in the eye of the creator and sometimes to an even wider public. There can be a tendency towards malaise when the creator becomes dependant on that state of mind to be able to create what they consider to be of value. The real malaise sets in when the artist perpetuates destructive situations in their life, consciously or otherwise in order to attain that state of mind towards that end. Playing with the abyss Ive come to call it. A dangerous thing, because as some here have stated, once one has come too close and looked over the edge, falling in is not an imaginable option anymore, and yet, you have to live with the fact that it can happen any time, its not just theory anymore.
Why artists in general seem more prone to depression than others, I think has a lot to do with the outsiders syndrome, and most artists are outsiders to some extent as are many criminals and religious fundamentalists.
In the 40s and 50s, three well known books appeared with The Outsider as title. Albert Camus in 1942, Richard Wrights in 1953, and perhaps the least known to Americans,..Colin Wilsons in 1956.
The first two of course are classics of psychological fiction, just as valid (possibly more so) today as when they were published. Colin Wilsons non-fiction book is in the same way, just as valid ;.an unbelievable, almost uncanny and at the same time very sober attempt by a 24 year old to analyse what the outsiders portent is for the evolution of mankind. His main examples are the lives of Van Gogh, T.E Lawrence (of Arabia),Vaslav Nijinsky, and Ernest Hemmingway, along with references to this writers earlier characters and the characters of many other novelists along with mentions of mystic poets and mystic philosophers old and new, , Gurdjieff and Ouspensky entering in the last pages.
Its a book that I think every artist should read, whether feeling depressed or in a state of buoyancy
Seeing too far and too deep. Is something you cant blame anyone for given that the average surrealist painting has come to make more sense than the disinfomation on the television evening news. However making others suffer for their supposed lack of having come to that point of insight is deplorable. The retort however used often as justification for deplorable acts is that that lack of insight is already causing immeasurable suffering. Richard Wrights Cross and the anti-hero of Native Son now walk the earth in millions and are of all races. Only a few have learned to defuse their insights with creativity if for no other reason than that the alternatives are too awful to contemplate. The results of the defusing we sometimes call art. . daubs of paint on canvas or board or what ever other media, seemingly ineffectual and yet, not quite. The insanity of the stock market and what a businessman is able to pay for a Van Gogh doesnt change a real art lovers opinion of or feeling for that painting be it positive or negative.
At this stage in our evolution it would seem that creating art is the best short-circuit breaker within our abilities besides of course meditation which I dont personally and practically have a great deal of experience with .In Wilsons book, the idea of Dennoch Preizen To praise in spite of,..is mentioned a few times as an attitude worth pursueing in life. This is how I feel (or try to feel) about the arts.; they may be a surrogate for what we should really be aspiring to but at the moment theyre the best we can manage.
If you can get your hands on Wilsons book do read it, I think its a book that leads an artist to view this aspect of their life in a different light. Dont ask me how someone of 24 was able to write it !? ..but dont let the fact depress you either.
on Wednesday, March 21st, Paul Dorrell said
Chris: Your dilemma sounds similar to the one I suffered through in college. No, that ain't no gift, nor anything to be treated lightly. I for one would never want to endure it again. But looking at your picture, you seem to have considerable resilience. If this is true, is there nothing you can't eventually bounce back from, damning the torpedoes as you do? Your work's incredibly original--more so than the general public would recognize. In fact, haven't you shown it to me before?
on Wednesday, March 21st, walt said
Chris, yours is a powerful story that needs more telling.
on Wednesday, March 21st, Chris Mohler said
Creativity is a gift. Depression is a curse.
With your head buried all day long in the pillows, even during bright sunshine, and this is the seventh or eighth day of this, go ahead and try to tell me that depression is a gift or that you like it!
www.absolutearts.com/artsnews/2007/03/15/34401.html
www.columbusdispatch.com/features-story.php?story=dispatch/2007/03/11/20070311-D4-01.html
www.chrismohler.com
on Wednesday, March 21st, Mark said
Brad,
I agree, "we are the sum of what we are" I also like your idea of deprwssion being a "gift" and if looking at it that way helps it should be embraced. But, I find questioning the most important aspects of life, breathing, expression, exploring, discovery, and loving, far more satisfing in a ray of light then in the pit of darkness, plus I also find answers easier to come by.
on Wednesday, March 21st, SMASHING SUCCESS said
Nice. Do you have a deadline by which you plan to have the Mars show up & running?
on Tuesday, March 20th, Brad said
Paul, Thanks for sharing over such a topic. I'm sure you take it more seriously when you say, "Coming from a family of two suicides," than what you let on.
Sure we don't have to make the same mistakes as others before us - but a best friend of mine swore he never would do what his brother did to him. Five years later - I lost my best friend... It pains me today and will always - the same as several other closest of friends - who died tragically. It's harder to overcome the stuff you're not prepared for. Unlike my photo partner, from earlier in my life, He took 4 & 1/2 years to die of Cancer. His affairs were in order.
People who leave us purposefully, likely do not consider the baggage they leave behind for their love-ones. "An easy way out - is easier when you think, "I'm just doing what someone else did to me..." The thing is - it's always a cop-out unless you are already mortally straddled - then folks better understand your final circumstances.
However, as an artist, and as a human being with a vivid curiosity, I would want to see the final efforts of understanding that my life as an artist has the gift of giving - when I know my days are numbered. It's your last chance to show your stuff - the stuff that always was held just under the skin. Depression is a gift in the sense that it allows you to question the most important aspects of breathing, expressing, exploring, and discovering. We are the sum of what we are - and if we can add all these parts that together reach up to our sum - life has been accomplished, and reachable meaning has been approached.
Some will make it show in their work more clearly - and others will touch the spirit of their longing, and we'll just have to glean a bit harder to see it.
In the end, it's all good if we just make the effort - no matter the pain, or darkness - for it is the effort of trying that best colors you soul. My love is sent to all in darkness, seeking the keyhole that leads to the light again - like 'Birthday Zero' - what a wonderful sight...
on Tuesday, March 20th, Paul Dorrell said
Gabriella: Yeah, very like the weather, with the exception that with determination many of us can do something about it. For those who can't? It's a tough gig.
Mark: Wise summary. Your perspective is certainly more profound, and well-rounded, than mine.
Ellen: Again, a very balanced point of few. You handled the encounter with the young friend well--meaning with dignity and strength, while letting him enjoy the illusions of his youth a bit longer. Why rain on his parade? We all soon enough have to learn how to endure repeated soakings, as well as how to dry off. Besides, I suspect that you, like me, still get insanely juiced over the smallest wonders in life--and on occasion the bigger ones. Let none of us allow the "adult world" ruin that child within us. If we do, we're really no longer artists.
on Tuesday, March 20th, Ellen Fisch said
Great blog, Paul. Depression has always been part of my life. My parents used to demand that I be happy: that didn't work. I also discovered that most people are not interested in my dark moods or thoughts. Even those closest to me view my life as charmed....so I let them. Although, as Mark mentioned, I wasn't as successful at hiding myself as I thought I was. However, it is useless to keep telling others how down I am because it drains my energy away from my work. Just as you do, I think of those less fortunate than myself. In New York City alone, I can see poverty and an endless struggle for so many just to provide food and shelter for themselves and their families. Count my blessings: you bet! That sometimes gets me through. Other times I watch Shawshank Redemption (at least 75 times) or the Verdict to see how Hollywood made it come out great against all odds. The Hours is also a good one, athough things don't come out all right in that one. The movie some how has a soothing effect on me: especially the music. Maybe it's catharsis.
I have long realized that no one really is interested in hearing what they don't want to hear. At a recent show that I participated in, a young friend (22) came over to me at the opening with envy, longing and appreciation for my efforts written all over his face. I was showing in a very prestigious venue in New York City. The show was sponsored by a museum. THe food and bar were great and my painting was hung in a good location for high visibility. "How does it feel?" he asked me. I did not tell him that it felt miserable to be there and not have sold. I did not say that I now thought that I could have/should have done a MUCH better job on the piece, although, at the time, it was my best effort. I did not say that I hate being on display to talk about my work which is very difficult to do because I just want to do it & not talk about it. I said "GREAT!!!" because he has a long, long road ahead of him. He came away happy and, I must admit, some of my angst was depleted.
Thanks for the blog. Knowing that others suffer doesn"t help, but it gives perspective.
on Tuesday, March 20th, Mark said
Depression manifests itself in as many different ways as people find a way to move beyond thier depression. I think what must be understood is that depression doen't just hurt the person suffering. I never talked about my depression (Partly because at the time I didn't realise what it was) but too, I did not want to burden my wife and kids with my dark feelings, little did I know then, but do now, that that wasn't so. I did not mistreat my children, I suported them in thier various journies in growing up, we talked and laughed and did things as family and they say we had a good time. Yet they still were affected by my depression. My point is that although I do consider depression to be a part of all our lives (whether it be mild or severe)it does affect those close to us and it is our responsibility to to find a way beyond the depression so as to minamize the affect on others and to then help them do the same as it is likely that those around us are dealing with depression as well or will at some point. My other point here is that those who say they have embrased the depression and use it to be more creative (and I point no fingers here) is realy a cop-out, in that they fear working to end the depression more then the depression itself, and that is a sad state. Depression becomes a known to us and we fear the unknown without it, we become victims and find comfort in that and are afraid of what will be if we no longer have that, as being a victim does at some point define us. I for one would rather be defined by my work and how I am with others then by my depression.
on Tuesday, March 20th, Gabriella said
I have experienced what I now realize was depression as a child, and periods during my teens and young adulthood when I recieved therapy of various kinds. Unusually persistent stretches of stress culminated in profound episodes where I was not even able to read and write, let alone make art of any kind. The hardest lesson during my lifetime has been to learn to pace my life better, and it has been a struggle. Getting much better at learning my limitations but also to allow myself to not be perfect and accept all kinds of limitations that have been my particular lot, and to persist with some strengths which have been allotted to me.
Emotional life seems like the weather, all kinds of conditions, and weather changes are inevitable.
on Monday, March 19th, Paul Dorrell said
Sonya. Interesting take on the subject. Lovely website. Lovely work. NY, eh? Some town. I'm overdue.
Chuck. I made that distinction in the article. Reread and you won't be so appalled. Fashion? Not quite sure I get that. Either way, please show us your work. I'm curious as to what you do. I'm sure many others here are as well.
Kathy: How familiar that your realism sells, and your abstraction collects dust. I know so many artists--from San Diego to Hartford--who struggle with the same gig. No matter; if it's inspired, it serves some purpose, though that may not be immediately evident. Glad it's a good release, whether it sells or not.
on Monday, March 19th, Kathy said
Interesting topic. As my moods vary, I paint in 2 different styles. Up - I paint realism which sells and gets me comissions in this area. When I'm depressed, I make my abstracts. I just feel like they're good for my soul. When I paint them it's almost like meditating, a mental vacation while some un-noticed part of my mind is working out my difficulty. The only problem is that I lose complete track of time and will forget to eat or sleep. I like these paintings best, and they are received well by everyone I know who's into the arts. No one buys them. I don't care.
on Monday, March 19th, Chuck said
I find it unfathomable how one could treat depression as fashionable. There is a huge difference between being depressed and having depression.
"But dig this: I don't see depression as a bad thing," Paul said.
What a ****! I am appalled!
on Monday, March 19th, Sonya Rose said
Your not alone Paul. As artists, we keep holding on ... to make it thru ... fight to the end to see a better beginning. As children, someone should have said to us ... this is just a fairytale "The happily ever after part". I am in my 30's now and not once, have I heard an actor who won an Academy Award say, "No...You can't do this. It's truly impossible ... equivalent to winning the Lottery or the Multi-Million Dollar Jackpot!" I have never heard a famous artist or poet say "Don't follow your dreams because you may end up broke and crazy..." while they lived.
We were brought up with so much pressure to make a living doing something someone else wanted us to do (possibly) and more pressure to make a great living doing something we enjoy most of allall by ourselves or so it seems at times. Therefore, you work harder and harder. There are better and better artists than you as you climb the ladder ... and you can easily pass out or breakdown from the stress ... fall off that ladder ... and when you are ready again to start climbing ... you start on the ladder step not where you fell off ... a few steps behind ...
It is tremendous pressure in this highly critical environmentTHE ARTS and it is human nature that most people are fascinated with art in any form. There are those who observe & enjoy only and those who observe, enjoy, and create... When you start to feel it is your job to be artistic or creative all the time ... this defines YOU...you can loose it...start to feel not appreciated so much. You start to feel ... My goodness ... I came this FAR...yet not FAR enough at his point in my life... So many times, I said, I can do this ... I can do this ... Like the book my mother read to me as a kid The Little Engine That Could ... I can only push so much by myself or even with some help ... achieving my vision in mind. When I accept a new reality (far from my vision) ... I am fine. It is when I do not accept the way things turned outthat is the problemthat starts the depression ... when it is out of my control.
Good Luck with your endeavors. I think you are fantastic! Your openness draws people to you and opens public discussion into the foundation of arts very own existence... its magnetic energy ... toying with all our emotions ... all the time ...
ART really mirrors LIFE itself ... there's always a part of us in it.
on Monday, March 19th, Paul Dorrell said
Very good points, all of you. Tremendous insight. Admirable energy. But dig this: I don't see depression as a bad thing. In fact the older I get, and the more I become aware of my relative unimportance, the lighter this load becomes. It's so much easier giving to someone else less fortunate, than to be concerned about whether I've achieved all that I wanted to in life (most of us never do).
Besides, do I really believe that my depressions, when they crop up, are worse than those of an Iraqi father trying to put food on the table? Surely not. I've merely addressed this issue candidly, since I know we learn more from one another that way. Beyond that, I never discuss this state of mind with anyone--not even those closest to me. I'd rather not bore them, or myself.
on Monday, March 19th, Joan said
Hi Paul,
Hey you make depression sound like a bad thing! Yes, of course it is and your candid discussion of it here is much appreciated. Artists seem to be wired to live in the extremes. Those times when the body doesn't produce enough seritonin makes for a grey, grey, day, a grey week...
Yet I've also learned other things about this over time, and to look at it differently. The sensitivity to self can be turned outward. It allows for great empathy to others, sometimes I can hear the world crying. Sometimes I understand all of the dark impulses of human behavior on a level where my skin crackles. Depression can be the soul speaking. It is often a period of dark cold winter before the new spring growth. A time of inner regeneration. That is, I've learned sometimes there is a need to go through such periods. It has much to teach.
I'm not saying to celebrate it. No, as it can be deadly. But to understand that the ability to feel the dark depths is directly related to the ability to also experience the other extreme, the highs: the great joy, the unbelievable insights, the vivid colors and textures, the forces of nature, to be attuned at the highest level with life.
There are those who walk beside the river of life, always safe, they never get their feet wet, they never allow themselves to feel a thing. Others plunge into the water, they feel the force of the stream, the coldness, the warm currents, they mire in the mud, and slosh throught the algae. They are alive and engaged with life. Artists are of the latter group.
on Monday, March 19th, Steve Smilen said
Hello:
I guess if you ever read my blogs you'd hear my depression talking out loud. I've been in therapy for over 30 years and who knows,probably needed it as a child thru my teen years. I had parents who were deeply depressed but didn't know it. They took out their depression on my sister and myself; physical and mental abuse. They were inadequate parents and guides. In short,they fucked me over pretty well. The depression as you stated came to me and my mind hid it by turning it into outward aggression and anger. I didn't know...thought everything was normal and life was just going on as it should;That failures and dysfunctionality were the norms because that's all I was accustomed to. My role models were depressed,angry and abusive-so was I. The depressed apple doesn't fall far from the tree. It is still a major factor in my life even to this moment. But I'm better at coping; avoiding negative situations that tend to spark the anger//depression. It's a tricky sucker,that depression. It can get to you when you least expect it and than wham.. something happens,you're guard is down and you're angry and than depressed. My art work, though not a sellable item or a gallery special makes me happy. I do it for me. Sometimes it's a struggle but then the breakthrough and that's cool when it happens. The therapy helps greatly. I definitely advise everyone to go- just to have a place to empty the mind of it's shit without anyone telling you that you're wrong to think or feel anything. As for life being a struggle- yes it is. That what life is. It was a struggle to be borne and is a struggle to survive. I've learned that there are no guarantees, no promises.(Even though there is a part of my ego that wishes there were some guarantees other than death.) You just gotta do what it is that makes you happy. I'm glad that art is the thing that pays the most emotional dividends. Hitting the lottery wouldn't be a bad thing either.
on Monday, March 19th, JodiAnn Strmiska said
AS an artist and a human being, the principle of embracing BOTH my 'darkness' AND my 'light';- has become an intrinsic part of my quest for 'wholeness' and authenticity in my life and, in my work as a visual artist. What has been very challenging is to be able to view the condition of depression as a temporary descent into darkness, mystery and 'unknowing';- as opposed to being a permanent, 'terminal' state. Yes;- I would absolutely agree that virtually all of the artists, musicians, writers and highly creative types I've known throughout my life;- have either battled depression systematically through therapy,medication AND meditation, yoga practices etc. &/OR have also 'used' their depression as an impetus for periods of major artistic growth. Speaking from my own personal experience;- a 'breakdown' or major bout of conflict/depression etc. has often been a prelude to a 'breakthrough' vis my own creative processe(s). It is unfortunate(!) that so many of us DO(!) seemingly, live from 'high-to-high', vis those peak periods of inspired creativity when a state of 'flow' prevails and then 'crash'(!), when there is a temporary 'ebb' of inspiration. My RX for depression has been to 'embrace diversity' in my daily life as much as possible. This means;- if I feel crummy about my art & the wolf is at my door;- I go for a walk & plug into the natural universe. Again;- the hardest thing is to acknowledge that maybe it IS 'OK' to feel crummy for a few hours at a stretch & allow yourself to 'feel your feelings'& , like they say in AA;-"OWN" them;- with it in mind that just like a passing rainstorm;- your black mood is a passing phenomenon. I wonder sometimes if my life would, indeed be radically different, if I never suffered through a fit of depression;- but strongly suspect that, as Popeye would say: "I Yam What I Yam!"....
on Monday, March 19th, arlee said
I've battled depression over the years too, not knowing what was wrong with me, but feeling "different" from everyone else, until i finally found a doctor who believed in me. I come from a generation where there was shame in mental illness of any form, but have worked through the debilitating side of it by working on projects that are deliberately "depressing'--somehow a sense of absurd develops and i'm out of it again into truly productive modes.
on Monday, March 19th, Lloyd Allen said
Read "Touched with Fire: Manic-Depressive Illness and the Artistic Temperament" by Kay Redfield Jamison. It helped me a lot understanding the low points. The "highs" I understood, it was the lows that were more difficult to understand.
on Monday, March 19th, Mark said
I do not think there is any one out there who is not or has not been, or will not be, depressed, and I am not talking about how one feels when we just don't get something we want. Depression is a
an instinctual by-product of what our bodies precieve as a danger or stress situation. Take a wild bird for example. If you catch one it fights at first, but if it can not get away it goes into a motionless state, we do the same, only because of how we now live (and I am talking about the last thousands of years here) the same chemical reaction that causes the bird to stop causes us to go into a depression, this can and often is passed down from generation to generation as well by heredity (chemicaly)or caused by an enviromental situation. Of course this is a simple explanation and not the only one.
I have faught depression all my life, but I find most of us do. My painting at one point was part of the cause but in time it became part of the cure. Many an artists and writer are even afraid to get rid of the depression as they feel that that is where their creativity comes from, perhaps, but all I know is since I have largly overcome my depression it is a place I would not wish to go back to. Now most episodes are more like down time then the deep, dark world I once knew. Now they are just a time when I am not very productive though I do work through it (continue to paint). What hasn't changed is that when I came out of the depression and could see the light of day my work improved and I would have a very creative, productive period, this still happens. Now I look at those low, not deep, times as a way for my brain to rest, as we can not expect to be creative 24/7, always.
I have excepted the low times, the painters block, the blank brains, and no longer let that pull me down, I also try hard to except what life hands me in the same way, to take what comes and work through it for there will always be dark and sunny days. Here is where my painting has helped me; when painting I approach the work with the idea that if it works great, if not, so what. I paint as if I do not care of how it turns out, of course I do but if it doesn't I no longer let that be a concern for I have done the work and if nothing else I have learned from it and to let it pull me down would be pointless. If I paint ten paintings worring about the outcome I will be lucky to get one good one, if I paint ten paintings, not to create a finished product but just to paint I will most often come out with many good ones. This same idea translated to daily life has helped me greatly with my depression.
on Monday, March 19th, walt said
Paul,
as you suggest it seems to be cyclical and often follows large accomplishments like exhibitions. Once the show has been hung and opening night is over the depression hits. "What do I do next?" And then a slow period of climbing out of the hole and get something started again. The bigger the accomplishment it seems the bigger the hole. However I found that the sooner I can get something started in the studio the sooner I feel better. And that discipline keeps me more or less on an even keel.
I also have found I make some of my best work beginning in depression. Had a friend in high school who used to introduce me to girls he knew would break my heart so I would paint more. I fell for it everytime.
on Monday, March 19th, Marnie Holt Swenson said
"...been there. Done that. Doing it." It ain't pretty but it's getting there... life;that is.
Guess I hold in there by saying "I'm going to be the first artist to have a solo show on Mars."
