Tortured Artists, Survive

By Lydia R. Figes

Survival Notes is a candid reflection on what it means to pursue an artistic life today. Drawing on exclusive interviews with artists including Jesse Darling, Tracey Emin and Anish Kapoor, Lydia R. Figes weaves together personal testimony and practical advice for emerging creatives. In the following adapted extract, Figes turns to the enduring cliché of the ‘tortured artist’ – and asks whether suffering is a prerequisite for creativity, or simply the byproduct of a system that leaves artists to struggle.

In today’s economic terms, the trope of the tortured or ‘starving’ artist is no longer merely a romanticised myth, it is a commonplace reality. The Contemporary Art Issue (CAI) estimated in 2023 that approximately 85 per cent of visual artists make less than $25,000 per year, while a study by the art market economist Magnus Resch stated that around 45 per cent of artists don’t make any income at all from their art. But beyond economic factors, we have to acknowledge that we are living in a time marked by an acute mental health crisis that impacts young people more than any other age group. In 2019, the World Health Organization reported that nearly a billion people – including 14 per cent of the world’s adolescents – are living with a mental health disorder. Given the circumstances, we might conclude that the majority of young artists today suffer as a result of their surrounding environment.  

'the trope of the tortured or "starving" artist is no longer merely a romanticised myth, it is a commonplace reality'

While we can acknowledge that the challenges of being an artist today may trigger poor mental health, we also have to take into account that an artist’s heightened sensitivity to the world – typically a precondition of becoming depressed or anxious – also lies at the heart of creative flair and even genius. Julia Cameron, in her much-loved book The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity, noted the intrinsic connection between the creative journey and pain: ‘Our tears prepare the ground for our future growth. Without this creative moistening, we may remain barren. We must allow the bolt of pain to strike us. Remember, this is useful pain; lightning illuminates.’ Typically, an artist is someone who feels compelled to follow impulse and intuition – a pursuit that stems from (and requires) a closer connection with their own interiority.  

It can’t be denied that many of the most prominent artists in history did succeed in the midst or aftermath of pain and suffering. And although we might argue that external society pushes artists into such a state of mind, there is evidence to suggest that creativity and mental health are inextricably connected. Psychiatric studies have proved that depression and personality disorders are more commonly found among artists and writers (perhaps there is a shadow of truth in the mad genius stereotype). In 1961 the eminent American art critic Clement Greenberg wrote the following in his diary: ‘The best American artists + writers of my time = alcoholics or on the verge of alcoholism; or megalomaniacs; or hysterics. Pollock, Faulkner, F. Lloyd Wright, Still, Newman, de Kooning, Rothko. On the other hand, the manic-depressives: Cal [Robert] Lowell, Delmore Schwartz…. David Smith a hysteric? Ken Noland a manic-depressive like me.’ 

'In our culture of hyper-visibility and competition that is reinforced through digital technologies, it has never been so easy to launch an artistic career – or to "put oneself out there" – nor to become quickly discouraged in the race for success.'  

But art that engages with emotional turmoil can convert pain into healing. Artists such as Louise Bourgeois, Yayoi Kusama and Frida Kahlo, while all struggling with their own demons, proved that art can be a curative and transformative tool. Art can give meaning, purpose and beauty to someone who might otherwise suffer from chronic physical and psychological pain, loneliness and isolation. Numerous scientific studies have demonstrated that creativity lessens depressive symptoms, producing higher levels of dopamine, reducing stress and anxiety and even improving our immune systems. In short, the compulsion to make art can be the medicine for, not just the symptom of, pain – and this can be a powerful motivator in the life of a young artist, especially one who feels blocked by fear or pain. 

The Kurdish/Iraqi artist Hayv Kahraman (b.1981) believes that art has the power to alleviate suffering on a broader scale. ‘I wouldn’t be creating art unless I believed that art can heal on a collective level,’ she tells me. Of Kurdish and Iraqi heritage, Kahraman was born in Baghdad in 1981 and is now based in Los Angeles. She grew up in geopolitical turmoil, against the backdrop of the Iran–Iraq War (1980–8) followed by the Gulf War (1990–1), forcing her to flee her homeland as a child. The trauma of displacement and discomfort of longing for home is a part of her daily lived experience – as are the other personal challenges and familial losses the artist has faced in recent years.  

‘I grew up in an environment riddled with war until fleeing at the age of ten. But I’ve found that I can’t access a lot of my memories from this period. My brain has simply decided to hide it from me, as a protection mechanism,’ Kahraman reflects. ‘So I don’t have the images or memories from this time but I certainly feel them in my body. I don’t know how to explain it. I feel the pain energetically but I can’t access it intellectually. This is where my work comes in, by engaging in somatic painting and making, I can somehow work through the pain.’ 

Kahraman is a believer that trauma lives in the body, a concept now widely shared in modern psychology. Her exhibition Gut Feelings, at Pilar Corrias gallery in 2022, provided a window into her interest in physical healing and care – the exploration that embodied pain lives in parts of the body, such as the gut. ‘The confluence between neuroscience and the microbiome emerged a few years ago when I found a book titled Neurosculpting,’ she adds (referring to the popular book by Lisa Wimberger). ‘It was the last book my mother was reading before she passed. This was the trigger to research these fields and find connections to healing.’ 

An artist who doesn’t shy away from the subject of pain, Kahraman nevertheless provides an alternative to the tortured artist stereotype. Her fantastical and figurative work is a manifestation of healing – projecting a message outwards rather than adopting a navel-gazing approach that indulges in one’s interiority. ‘I think everyone has their unique journey to heal and following what brings you joy and ease is important.’ But she recognizes that pain can’t simply be processed onto canvas or another artistic medium: the passing of time also determines when creativity will flourish. ‘Yes, there are times when it’s good to push yourself, but if you’re not ready then I think you should honour that and recognize it as part of the path. Listening to your own flow is the most important thing, I believe.’ 

'I find the biggest misconception about art is that it is primarily about self-expression. Life as an artist is about experiencing junctions between self-expression and communication and being seen and heard'

Art can dwell in pain or channel pain into something beautiful. But art can also be a way to avoid and detach oneself from interior suffering. Wolfgang Tillmans (b.1968) encourages young artists to use their practice as a vehicle to explore beyond the prism of their own struggles. ‘I find the biggest misconception about art is that it is primarily about self-expression. Life as an artist is about experiencing junctions between self-expression and communication and being seen and heard,’ he explains. ‘These junctions and moments are hard to force and make happen. Your desire to express yourself is not the most interesting thing about you. Once you are amongst artists everyone wants to do just that. You start being interesting to others when you contribute to the discussion, not just direct attention to yourself. I approach my work starting with the question, “What is missing?”’  

Art making can offer a point of departure – a release from the sometimes unbearable reality of daily existence and the pain that comes with the struggle to build a successful career. Rather than encouraging an artist to turn inwards, art can allow someone to act in response to their curiosities, obsessively researching, sourcing and curating images and information that deter them from solipsism. Art serves as a beautiful distraction that expands and enriches the experience of life itself. If there is any truth to the stereotype of the ‘tortured artist’, it is not merely because of having narcissistic tendencies, or a heightened sensitivity to the world (though these might undeniably both be driving forces behind creativity). We can conclude that artists have always had a closer relationship to, or engagement with pain. While some may fall victim to it (and give up entirely), others will embrace the possibilities of discomfort, allowing such feelings to engender creative depth and turn overwhelm into artistic action. 

Yet for the majority of artists who suffer today, it is largely because the surrounding economic conditions and rampant competition make the early stages of an artist’s career incredibly challenging. In our culture of hyper-visibility and competition that is reinforced through digital technologies, it has never been so easy to launch an artistic career – or to ‘put oneself out there’ – nor to become quickly discouraged in the race for success.  

The reality is that unless you come from a degree of privilege, being a young artist will inevitably entail suffering and economic precarity. So don’t punish yourself for not ‘making it’ before you’ve found stability. It’s important to remember that art can serve a purpose beyond its market value. If it is healing – an antidote to pain – then perhaps that’s enough on your creative journey. And in the long run, making art to negotiate pain will probably make your work more authentic, original and stronger.  

To live the life of an artist requires practising daily self-care and compassion – a byproduct of emotional resilience. To any young artist battling with mental health and confidence while navigating this difficult space: you are stronger than your mind wishes you to believe. In the words of Frida Kahlo: ‘At the end of the day, we can endure much more than we think we can.’

View Survival Notes.