Art, tragedy linked through intensity of life

  Ariana Brookes Brookes is a third-year
English student who knows that Diet Coke is the drink of champions.
E-mail her at [email protected].
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Joni Mitchell sings, “Blue songs are like tattoos,”
and was right on target when she made the comparison. A tattoo is a
permanent, visual symbol of a memory. In turn, songs, or art work
in general, act as silent reminders of incidents from the
artists’ pasts.

Throughout history, brilliant art is linked with personal
tragedy. A survey of the last century in art would clearly reveal a
strong pattern supporting this trend. But what is not so clear is
the answer to the common chicken-or-egg phenomenon. Does personal
tragedy lead to great art, or does great art lead to personal
tragedy?

Kurt Cobain’s suicide appeared to be related to what he
saw as his failure in his personal life and his career. He saw
himself as a sell-out. He felt the burden of being the
media-proclaimed leader of a generation. The fact that he had
achieved widespread success due to the brilliance of his art caused
him to question the authenticity of his work. This, in turn, led
him to grave depression, which caused him to kill himself. I
guess.

Illustration by JARRETT QUON/Daily Bruin If only it were that
simple. There is an other side to this story that is equally
believable. Cobain was depressed from childhood. He had a strained
relationship with his parents. He was a loner as a child, and
antisocial and unpopular as a teenager, never quite fitting in. He,
um, lived under a bridge.

The combination of natural talent, ambition and life experiences
led to the groundbreaking music of Nirvana. He wrote songs based on
trials in his personal life, that others felt they could relate to.
And so, it would seem here that personal tragedy in fact led to
great art. But who’s to say? Perhaps Courtney knows, but I
doubt it.

“Pollock,” which took home the Oscar for best
supporting actress this year, deals with the life of the acclaimed
artist Jackson Pollock. During the ’40s and ’50s,
Pollock’s painting led a revolution in contemporary art. His
work was brilliant, and while the movie definitely acknowledges
this, it is really more about Pollock’s life than his
art.

What the film highlights is the connection between his art and
his life, and Pollock’s life was no picnic. He suffered from
mental illness and severe alcoholism. It is clear while watching
the film that the difficulties he suffered gave rise to the
intensity in his art. Thus, his personal tragedy inspired the art,
and not vice versa.

To accept this, however, you would have to discount the second
half of the movie. Once Pollock becomes famous, his personal life
clearly takes a nosedive. He too, it seems, could not take the
pressure of the celebrity status that his art afforded. His
alcoholism goes into high speed, and he ends up killing himself, in
a fatal, alcohol-induced car accident. It is difficult to
distinguish between the cause and the effect, as the line becomes
increasingly blurry.

To further explore this question, I turn to the great icon of
20th century female sexuality, Marilyn Monroe. Since she is one of
the most mysterious of recent legends, people have been trying to
understand Monroe’s motives for suicide since the time of her
death. We know that she was troubled. We know that she used her
ability and personality to become a permanent figure in American
history. What only she knows, however, is how the two connect.

Monroe is known for her legendary roles in several lasting films
such as “Some Like it Hot.” She is also famous for her
difficult life, and her struggle to achieve fame. We also know of
the personal abuse that ensued once she had achieved such status,
and the drug addiction that eventually led to her untimely
death.

So which came first? Did her tragedy give her the depth she
needed to secure her role in film history, or did the pressure of
that success push her over the edge? It’s a toss-up.

Not all cases lead to such ambiguous answers. Often, good art is
based on personal tragedies, which the artist uses as inspiration.
The pieces which result are often ones to which others relate.

I cite Tori Amos, a singer famous for turning past evils into
influential work. Many of her songs speak of her rape, a great
tragedy which unfortunately afflicts many others. Amos capitalized
on a bad experience to let others know they are not alone in their
suffering. She drew from her passion, and created work which
cemented her as a top artist. Clearly, in this case, personal
tragedy led to the creation of the art, and not the other way
around.

I could go on forever endorsing my love of pop culture, but I
think I’ve made my point. There is definitely a connection
between personal tragedy and enduring art. There is definitely a
question over which is the cause, and which is the effect. The real
question is whether or not there is a clear-cut answer to this
dilemma.

I mean, sure, you could say that the connection between the two
is that all of these artists were nutso, end of story. And trust
me, I’m tempted to accept that, as it would give me a
definitive conclusion to this column. But it’s just not that
simple.

I can understand why personal tragedy could inspire great art.
After all, personal suffering tends to intensify a person’s
emotions. Once you know yourself, you are better able to project an
extension of yourself through your art. In turn, when a person
overcomes a trial, they often feel the desire to help others who
are going through similar issues. This integrity definitely makes
for more captivating work.

It is impossible, however, to deny the truth in the opposite
equation. Great art, if it is recognized, leads to fame. Fame leads
to stress, pressure and responsibility. While some can handle it,
it seems that in more cases than not, the artist cracks under the
pressure. If the artist allows the pressure to consume them, then,
eh, we could be looking at tomorrow’s headlines.

And so, in truth, I am somewhat indecisive. I have spent a lot
of time thinking about this, and I have reached this conclusion.
Art is intensity. Intensity surrounds art, much like an Oreo cookie
surrounds its cream filling.

Tragedy incites passion, and passion is at the heart of all good
art. With artistic success and the celebrity that accompanies it,
there also comes the intensity of a new personal identity for the
artist.

Unfortunately, some artists cannot reconcile their former
identity with the new one that has been forced upon them. And thus,
the obvious result is personal tragedy, once again. This is the
unfortunate destiny for many great artists. They have the pleasure
of knowing that they inspire countless others with their work
““ however, it hasn’t come without cost.