The subject of artists and mental health has been surfacing this month, alongside co-hosting How Does An Artist Grow? with Rural Art Hub. These events were two group conversations about the pathways different people take into creative practice, how we sustain ourselves (physically, emotionally, financially) and what the role of artists is (and what might it be) within communities.
In the spirit of safe sharing, which involves side-stepping social media, we chose not to share any content or images from the discussions. What was interesting overall, is that a new space was opened up through talking about various themes in a small-group setting; a kind of portal if you will.
When talking about wide-ranging themes such as depression, anxiety, neurodiversity, parenting/care responsibilities, gender, pressure to produce, isolation/connection, support, education, social media, a ‘success’ orientated society and the therapeutic value of art, it is clear that most people who are artists beyond ‘hobbies’ or pastimes endure a few ordeals somewhere along the way.
Yet it has not always been so. In many indigenous communities the role of the artist has a clear place within the societal structure: expressing identity, culture, spirituality and relationships to other humans, creatures, plants, land and the environment. Storytelling is a vital role, often drawing upon themes of creation, ancestors and kinship. The artist, in this context embodies a kind of messenger in touch with something else, a shamanic quality allowing them to tap into dreamscapes and other worlds.
Our conversations at Rural Art Hub were in part inspired by a recent report published by Industria. Structually F–cked is an eye opening read, and pinpoints many of the cultural and political issues facing creatives today. The document highlights how the arts have been devalued over recent history, and breaks down examples of pay for artists into less than minimum wage when the real time that things take is considered. On paper, the reasons why anyone would want to become an artist in the current climate are somewhat obscure.
And yet, we do. The call is still there to mediate between this world and another place. To bring a kind of sensory understanding into places where there previously was none, perhaps even healing. Returning to the shamanic, the process of community members becoming shamans often involves having to endure intense pain, fear, or personal loss.
It is not right that these thresholds should be enforced through years of conservative government, or creative opportunities taken up mainly through privilege (financial and/or racial). It is not right that women find it harder to establish their creative work because childcare falls mainly on them. Neither is it acceptable that we live in a culture that is still scared of discussing mental health honestly and frankly. Hopefully, this last point is undergoing some kind of generational transformation.
With all of that in mind, is there some kind of personal journey or initiation which is actually needed in becoming an artist? Walking over hot coals to prove our worth in society is not so much fun, yet fire is needed to burn away what is no longer necessary.
“The heart that breaks open can contain the whole universe.”
― Joanna Macy
I can only really illustrate from my own experience without sharing things about others that are too personal.
It has taken far too much effort (and poor mental health) to figure out that I am better off working in research, learning, support and therapeutic contexts than following short-term breadcrumbs to temporary gingerbread houses (i.e. constant short-term pieces of work common in the working artist word). That or working in a lovely bookshop or café. This is one of the reasons I care about supporting the creative journeys of others.
The knowledge that all these roles and workplaces are just words, and the soul calling is a fluid song of light, colours, words, movement, shapes and love has arrived in my 40s. It is from this place, without labels or fixed form, that I now try to navigate challenges relating to neurodiversity, bisexuality, self-esteem, confidence and health. Turning points come from realising that what matters is how I feel deep inside, day-to-day, and what my relationships and environment feel like. They are found in solitude, community and spirituality, and trusting that we are never truly alone.
The call is also one of courage. Within a society which tries to dim our light and dull our colours, how can creative people re-embody their gifts as contemporary mystics and healers? Walking our desire lines so we (and others) might also find a way though involves bravery and stepping out from the crowd. Perhaps this is the point of painful thresholds and shedding many skins in carving out our individual pathways: so we can better journey together and feel outside our own forms into a sensual, embodied, oh-so-natural process of dreaming in collective action.
“Whenever illness is associated with loss of soul, the arts emerge spontaneously as remedies, soul medicine.”
- Shaun McNiff