Creativity is a disease; it’s a disability. Constantly seeing the world through an intense magnification lens is an immeasurable torture. My head is constantly spinning out of control with images and ideas, some beautiful, some grotesque. The thoughts I have
scare fucking terrify me… I stare in the mirror for hours never knowing for one second who or what I am actually looking at. My face melts away. My reality is sometimes usually a very subjective concept. My waking hours seem like dreams, my dreams seems more like a reality. When I am “tapped in” an uncontrollable state of monomania takes over and I am alone in my thoughts. Questions go unanswered, I can’t be bothered. Simple tasks become formidable burdens. I unintentionally lose all sense of the outside world and my responsibilities.
I lose hours, days and even weeks at a time. I can’t remember what I did or didn’t do, what I said or didn’t say. Walking down crowded city sidewalks, my mind drifts off into some non-secular void. I’m floating, unattached; unaware. I forget where I am. I don’t care where I’m going. In a thunder-stroke I can be overcome with immense joy at the sight of something otherwise seemingly insignificant or possibly hallucinatory, and then in another instance, completely devoid of any emotional reaction to something definitely authentic, profound, or traumatic.
I write, paint, design, and create to ease the overwhelming pain of this constant state of heightened awareness. If I can manifest something out of this madness it temporarily curbs my feelings of meaningless and insignificance. It’s the best therapy that I have found to date. I can look back at something tangible and feel slightly accomplished. I feel like I’m putting something important out there but it’s mainly for my own hedonistic indulgence. But I think that’s the reality of any artist or else you wouldn’t create. You create to validate. To show that you have something inside of you that the world needs to see. This thing that stands you apart from the “sheep”. A lot of artists are even talented at convincing themselves, as well as other “non-creatives” (there is no such thing,) that they have an advantage or superior outlook on the world and it’s possibilities. This is how the art world works.
A tortured artist is an artist who can’t grasp the concept that perfection is not a reality. They feel that their work is never complete. While a seemingly functional artist has to have a delusionary sense of grandeur that usually borders on extreme narcissism. Throw in some recognition and money and there you have a brilliant fucking monster that the masses will crave and emulate til their dying breath. The smart ones I guess take advantage of these monsters, putting them on a figurative leash, per se. These predatory captors can’t, or refuse to create themselves so they manipulate and propagate these creatives like cash cows. And the cash cows uncontrollably masticate, chomping away at the bit because they need to remain relevant through validation and manipulation…
The art world, in short, is as simple as the metaphor in Hans Christian Andersen’s story, “The Emperor’s New Clothes.” A vain Emperor who cares about nothing except wearing and displaying clothes hires two weavers who promise him the finest, best suit of clothes from a fabric invisible to anyone who is unfit for his position or “hopelessly stupid”. The Emperor’s ministers cannot see the clothes themselves, but pretend that they can for fear of appearing unfit for their positions and the Emperor does the same. Finally the weavers report that the suit is finished, they mime dressing him and the Emperor marches in procession before his subjects. The townsfolk play along with the pretense, not wanting to appear unfit for their positions or stupid.
This type of ideology is still very relevant in the art world today. We were all taught this simple fable as children, that we somehow subsequently dismiss as adults. There is this stigma of what is art and what is not; what is valid and what is creditable. This is very destructive and damaging to true visionaries and artists who might never receive credibility based on this dogma. I see many talented artists of my generation struggling, prostitizing themselves to “draw attention to their art-form”. These same artists then complain that no one takes their work seriously and that they are victims of sexual objectification. The hierarchy of capitalism has a very Machiavellian way of discouraging, controlling, and enslaving true artists, while simultaneously depriving the masses of any free thought in these matters.