The “tortured artist” trope and it’s problems

The Jackson Pollock film reminded me of something that frustrates me in people’s conceptions of art. There’s this trope of the “tortured artist” that’s been around for a very long time. It’s a stereotype of a talented but highly flawed person who’s suffered a lot and therefore makes brilliant, angsty work. From Van Gogh maybe cutting off his own ear to Michael Jackson suffering under an abusive father, some of our most beloved artists have wrestled with demons. This image became quite popular when Romanticism bloomed in Western thought. Being all about the individual and a sense of high emotion, dramatic, flawed figures such as the poet Lord Byron dominated art and public attention. We still live in a post-romantic culture, and the popular notion of the “tortured artist” remains.

The problem with the “tortured artist” is twofold. Firstly, it romanticizes trauma, mental illness, and other issues as a part of the artist’s brilliance. For example, Heath Ledger was praised for his performance as the Joker in Batman: The Dark Knight. When he died of an overdose, it was unclear if it was intentional or accidental, but rumors became popular that he was driven to suicide because playing the Joker messed with his head. Later it was determined that his death was accidental, but the idea that he got so lost in his role it killed him was a good story, so it stuck around.

The second problem with the “tortured artist” image is the way it implies you can’t make true art unless you’ve suffered. In theatre some acting methods encouraged their students to tap into their own experiences to bring forth the emotion required of them. For example, if their character is grieving they’re expected to tap into the memory of their loved one’s death. It’s debated how ethical/useful this technique is, but it plays into the idea that the best of artists draw on what they’ve suffered through. I sense this in poetry, especially: a pretentious notion that if a poem is dark and semi-autobiographical, it’s automatically regarded as more deep than a poem about something positive. Ursula K. Le Guin spells this out perfectly in The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas:

"The trouble is that we have a bad habit, encouraged by pedants and sophisticates, of considering happiness as something rather stupid. Only pain is intellectual, only evil interesting. This is the treason of the artist: a refusal to admit the banality of evil and the terrible boredom of pain."

The Pollock film annoyed me because he was a troubled asshole who was meant to be liked by the audience because of how brilliant he was. Like many others, his social pariah status somehow marked him as a special talent.

I think the “tortured artist” bothers me so much because I am an aspiring artist, of sorts. The image of the suffering genius negates the scores of others who haven’t suffered but make brilliant work. I want to believe that mental problems or a terrible childhood aren’t a prerogative for making deep, meaningful art.