Random Ramblings

The Agony and the Ecstasy

Why is it that some of the most poignant art is created through human suffering? This is a question that has plagued me for years. My best work was completed during some particularly tumultuous circumstances, which is frustrating when attempts to recapture it are futile at best.

Is this a symptom of mental and emotional pain? Enduring the crushing pressures of society, distilling emotions until they morph into a breath-taking diamond? I'm constantly reminded of things I've seen - media I've consumed that echo this message of overcoming hardship to develop your voice. 'Beauty is pain', one model says to another. Perhaps there's something there.

We can take a bodybuilder, bulging with pound upon pound of hardened muscle. An Adonis, carved from living marble. It's truly remarkable how some individuals can transform themselves in this way. But not many understand that it requires tremendous effort and devotion to a brutal lifestyle. A strict diet regimen, research, and supplements, not to mention years of burning limbs, dripping with sweat. All this so strangers can nod appreciatively when shirts come off.

It's one thing to know it takes effort and another to actually experience it. So I'll ask again, is beauty a byproduct of pain? Or does the agony merely elevate the ecstasy? Let's explore this a bit further.

Would you be interested in a handwoven basket, if you saw it? Well, what if that basket came from a war-torn country, crafted by starving children? Does the human element add to the monetary value or is it merely an ethical dilemma?

I question how much of art is expressed through real pain and how much of it is manufactured to drive up the asking price. Of course, not every situation is the same. But I wonder if some of it isn't artificial.

But on the opposite side of the spectrum, starving artists are a real thing. Why, it's common knowledge that many of the greats were penniless, overlooked during their time, and only became a sensation posthumously. But I wonder if this wasn't the reason behind their success.

Let's say you had a passion for filmmaking and directed some low-budget movies with interesting ideas, what would happen if you were given an unlimited budget but gave up most of your creative control? Could the next film you direct really be called yours? It's a bit like the ship of Theseus. I wonder if notoriety and wealth have more of an influence on artists than we realize.

I would have a tough time turning down a multi-million offer for a teen romance novel, even though I despise the stuff. It's a hard position to be in. There's a saying that it's better to be nine people's favorite thing than being the ninth favorite of millions.

Where am I going with this? I'm not entirely sure myself.

My initial question was why anguish creates such haunting rhapsodies. I think the answer lies in the duality of man. Comedians have the uncanny ability to twist reality and subvert expectations with hilarious results. Yet, they tend to be depressed and suffer from a variety of mental and physical disorders. But why are they so good at skewering society?

Humor is a coping mechanism for many. When life is beating you over the head, isn't it better to see it for the cruel joke that it is instead of curling into a ball? Comedy is the opposite of tragedy, but we cannot have one without the other. So it is with our favorite funny people. They have an innate understanding of humor from experiencing emotional trauma and other hardships.

I think this is why the (arguably) best art comes from pain. We manage to bundle our fears, worries, insecurities, and other personal demons into self-expression, which elevates it above the rest. Is it healthy? Heck no. I'm not advocating this by any means.

I just find it fascinating that we can turn some of our worst flaws into something exquisite.