Depression, the Artistic Impulse, and the nature of insanity

Don't expect a fully formed, thought out essay at this stage-- I'm just trying to get my thoughts down "on paper" before they vanish entirely.

A few days ago, I heard snippets of an discussion on NPR dealing concerning a poet who also had serious, long-term bouts with depression. The question the interviewer asked (paraphrasing her, obviously) was "is depression a necessary component of the creative process, or are artists/poets being creative in spite of their depression?" It's an interesting question, I suppose, but it seems to me that it overlooks a third, even more thought provoking, possibility:

What if being creative/imaginative leads to depression?

It seems like an outlandish question at first, but less so when you give it serious consideration.

You have an idea (e.g. subject for a painting, to keep it simple) that grabs your imagination. It may or may not be unique, but it's different enough that you can't easily find it or something "close enough" to it in the real world today. Turning this idea into a reality becomes an obsession-- it *should* be possible. After all, people create paintings all the time.

But when you try to "make it real", you discover barriers and hurdles that complicate the act of bringing it into the real world. Maybe you bought the canvas, paints and brushes, and you've started to paint your masterpiece, but the realities and restrictions of the media you are working in prevent you from achieving what you originally envisioned in your head. You have to make compromise after compromise to capture it on canvas-- the colors aren't as bright as the vision in your head, or the paint is too thick on the canvas and looks muddy, it takes far longer and requires more effort than you ever imagined, etc.

That's just painting, which tends to be a fairly solitary creative activity. Imagine how many more compromises and frustrations would be involved in a collaborative situation, like designing a web site or co-authoring a story?

Maybe the constant act of compromise and the laborious efforts involved in the creative process cause frustration and disappointment that predispose artistic types to depression?

Suddenly, it doesn't seem so far fetched, does it?

Creativity and Insanity

There's this theme that seems to recur frequently in modern culture-- the thin line between creative genius and insanity. Personally, I think it's a trite cliche and poorly understood. I'd like to offer an alternative saying:

The difference between creative genius and insanity is a willful ignorance about how our environment and the things in it work.

For example, I have a remote engine starter in my car. It's a nice convenience in the extreme seasons-- the car can defrost and warm the passenger space in the winter time, or make the interior cooler and more comfortable in the summer, all without me having to get into the car. One of my friends [not you, B ;)] saw me using this feature one time, and she asks me "What would you do if your car started to drive off by itself?"

I started to reply by explaining to her that it wasn't possible for that to happen . . . and because I wasn't willing to totally buy in to her premise, she interrupted me and chastised me for " . . . not having any imagination."

(As an aside, she probably lacks the intelligence and social awareness to hypothesize why we don't talk much or do much together any more, but I digress . . . .)

If she'd allowed me to finish answering her question instead of interrupting me, I'd have explained that it's difficult to create an interesting and plausible story/explanation when the premise itself outright violates several electrical, mechanical and physical principles. Oh, sure -- the car just "magically and inexplicably" becomes sentient and somehow bypasses several deliberately engineered safety features that prevent it from being stolen and/or careening out of control, etc. Hell, that isn't even original, Stephen King already did that one TWICE-- "Christine" and "Maximum Overdrive." (rolls eyes)

How about this? Instead of conveniently discarding all the real world facts that might get in the way of telling the story you think is so cool, why don't you sit down and learn about the mechanics involved and build a story that actually can operate within those constraints?

For example, I point my remote starter fob at the car, getting ready to impress my friend(s), hit the start button twice . . . and the car suddenly and without warning explodes in a tremedous fireball. What the hell happened!? My car just exploded! Maybe I tried to save money by installing the unit myself and wound up accidentally causing an electrical fire? Or, maybe someone in my life secretly hates me so much that they hired someone to plant a bomb in my car and kill me . . . and if I hadn't started my car remotely, I'd have been dead!

See, all of these possibilities are plausible and they have wonderful directions to build on. Maybe I become convinced one of my friends is trying to kill me and I wind up alienating everyone, only to discover that the whole incident was nothing more than a case of mistaken identity-- because I drive the same make and model of car that the intended victim drives? How's that for a plot twist?

Jurassic Park was a hit because it was just plausible and believable enough for people to suspend their disbelief. I will spare you my opinion of Maximum Overdrive.