“Despite depression’s eclectic reach, it has been demonstrated with fair convincingness that artistic types… are particularly vulnerable to the disorder,” William Styron states in Darkness Visible, his “Memoir of Madness.”
Styron offers a graphic account of depression’s effects during his successful thirty-five year literary career. Styron’s question as to why so many artists are haunted by depression is one that has been explored for centuries.
While the key to depression’s mettle is one of physical origin, to label the brain’s chemical imbalance as the race’s starter is the tail wagging the dog. More likely, the starting gun is fired by stress, which causes chemical depletion, which starts the race, which causes mood drop, which creates more stress, until the victim ends up in the nightmare that Depression built.
Demanding audience members, benefactors and critics can create stress as the singer desperately tries to satisfy everyone’s expectations. Since the artistic personality teeters on stress’s edge, a case can be made that successful singers can easily slip into depression’s downward spiral.
Amazingly, the descendants of the Mayan civilization relate a 2,000 year-old eloquent description of creative depression corroborating Styron’s observations. His observations state that the genius’s genetic tendency toward depression, chronic stress caused by the perceived obligation to maintain perfection for a relentless constituency, mood drop, self-medication to stabilize the mood, and despair, sometimes lead to suicide.
Throughout two millennia, Mayans have instructed children in “La Ultima Madre.” In ancient times, priestesses performed this ceremony for the benefit of all pregnant women to give insight into the mothers’ and children’s souls. The Mayans believe that the child inherits the mother’s spirit. Children are taught to analyze their mother’s propensity, which will ultimately become their inheritance. They are instructed that there are two types of mothers: “Nurturing Mother” and “Rainbow Mother.” Nurturing Mother gets married and raises her corn and her children. She loves simplicity and routine. Rainbow Mother has the energy of the singer, poet, and artist. She does not nurture her children, but rather she inspires them. When her creative endeavors are imbalanced, Rainbow Mother will feel frustrated, often turning to alcohol. This can lead her to travel to the other “end of her arrow,” where “Crazy Woman,” the goddess of death or suicide, resides.
Like the Mayan Rainbow Mother, the un-centered singer suffers stress. While good stress drives the singer toward creativity, chronic stress can consume confidence, passion and productivity, crucial characteristics of an artist. Styron writes, “Of the many dreadful manifestations of the disease, both physical and psychological, a sense of self-hatred, or a failure of self-esteem, is one of the most universally experienced symptoms. I suffered more and more from a general feeling of worthlessness.”
At depression’s inception, the artist reacts to the audience’s demand for constant perfection by taking on too many projects and deadlines. Forgetting the joy of the creative endeavor, singers can become their own strict taskmasters, driving themselves to create multiple masterpieces. They quickly make large withdrawals from artistic reserves. The singer’s gift of creation can also be the demise of the ability to create.
A right-brained thinker, the artist is a relational gatherer who metaphorically sits in the center of her experience reaching out for information and inspiration like a hummingbird flitting from flower to flower. Unlike left-brained thinkers who move in linear avenues like inchworms, digesting information bit by bit, the creative right-brainer can handle multiple projects simultaneously. However, the result of prolonged overwork is creative bankruptcy, lack of confidence, procrastination and blockage. Rather than seek help, the embarrassed artist now isolates herself and stews in her depression.
Left unattended, despair loops recurringly like a computer program gone mad. An early therapy for genius-in-the-loop is a retreat from creative commitment. Interestingly, Styron’s depression was not relieved until he was able to take time out from his intense schedule. He continued to suffer as long as he remained mired in the quicksand of award dinners, benefactor hand-kissing, television appearances and personal engagements. His depression was ultimately relieved by a seven-week residential treatment.
The singer’s creative spirit is a sensitive one. Kept in balance with an eye toward withdrawals, its vitality can recoup. Since audiences and patrons can be relentless in their expectations, it is the singer’s responsibility to place a healthy limit on their demands. If left unchecked, chronic stress can drive an artist into severe depression. Without professional intervention, the sensitive human spirit may surrender and lose its creative genius. Thankfully, Styron did not surrender, but rather survived to describe his painful but ultimately illuminating experience.
Darkness Visable: A Memoir of Madness, by William Styron (Paperback – January 1992), available at Amazone.com
