Sherrie,
Interesting, but I am a bit more ambivalent in regard to poetry. Anne
Sexton comes most prominently to mind. I recall being outraged when I
first heard of her. I was already extremely impressed by Sylvia Plath
who was in my pantheon of best poets at the time, but what is this
person Anne Sexton doing with poetry? She was born in 1928 and suffered
from what used to be called Manic Depression. In 1955 her Psychiatrist
recommended that she take up poetry, and after several poetry workshops,
tutoring by some of the current poets, in 1967 won a Pulitzer Prize.
Sexton was no Sylvia Plath I was quite sure. It was noted that during
her time in mental institutions she mimicked the psychoses of those
around her. She did that also in poetry.
I got /To Bedlam and Part Way Back /and the occasional poem seemed
pretty good. Since I initially condemned the idea of someone being
urged to write poetry by a psychiatrist, I felt obligated to read her
from time to time. I replaced the individual volumes eventually with
/Anne Sexton, The Complete Poems, /published in 1981. I ultimately had
to admit that she wrote a bunch of really good poems. So to explain
Anne Sexton to myself, I am guessing that the Psychiatrist heard
something from this bright 20 something young lady that made him think
she was suited to poetry -- not just as therapy but as something she
would be good at. Her second psychiatrist wasn't so helpful. He had
an affair with her and according to the first psychiatrist was the
proximate cause of her suicide in 1955.
Lawrence //
On 12/29/2015 10:45 PM, Lionpainter wrote:
Greetings and Almost Happy New Year 2016
As for the idea of despair and suffering Lawrence speaks about in "Obligations", I prefer quiet isolation as a painter, but to date do not yield to the traps of ennui or blocks that many experience. I do tend to suffer from seasonal depression, which probably effects my quality and quantity of output of paintings during the winter months, but my way around the "darks" is my schedule. No matter if inspired or not, I go to my studio and do something...even if it is to scrape my palette and clean my turpentine containers or gesso and stretch new canvas for some later inspiration. The smells of the oils, the piercing tang of turpentine and the vibrancy of color calls up the artist within. This habit and repetition seems to quell the pitfalls of lacking serotonin or will. I have read authors speak of such routine/ritual which also helps them move forward in creation and artistic manifestation.
The book /Touched with Fire: Manic-Depressive Illness and the Artistic Temperament/, by Kay Redfield Jamison poses a dramatic and interesting picture of the rites of creation, but well worth a read if anyone is interested in the presumption that our Master painters, artists, composers, poets have been touched with insanity. I sensed that the author felt that there was some form of "must have" marriage between insanity and greatness of creators. At the end of it, I need ask, what is normal.
My experience in this matter of insanity versus art has been from another point of view. My friend and fellow painter and I were commissioned to do a mural ( "Art for Public Places" ) It was a 30 foot long , 12 ft high mural painting in the rotunda of a New Jersey mental institution. The project took almost three months and in that time we managed to touch the lives of many.
In the beginning the patients would walk through the rotunda on the way to their dining hall. These patients were the ones that were not confined to their beds or rooms. Nonetheless, most had what is called the Haldol shuffle. It is called that because the drug Haldol kept them subdued, slow, and they walked down the long corridor to and through the rotunda with a slow gate and sliding shuffle. We could hear them coming as we stood on our ladders preparing the surface for our oils. It was at first eerie, and a bit frightening for us, as we were privy to some stories of hysterical violence that could erupt from various patients. We were told to ignore them.
Cutting through the many strange encounters I will say that in time, many patients started to notice the art being created. They watched, they stopped and seemed to study our movements, almost mesmerized. After awhile their accompanying nurses were shocked at the reactions and admitted that many of these patients had not even spoken or seemed to be in reality at all...just sort of zombies, for years. Slowly the crowds would gather each day, more and more would stop and stand, silently. What was once the patients haunting distant eyes became brighter and more alert. In time they would engage in conversation with one another and ask us questions.
It was becoming clear to the medical staff that art had triggered something in them. Insanity had shifted. They became participants of something they deemed worth interest and clarity. They didn't appear crazy anymore while in the rotunda.
We tried to talk to the Medical Director of the facility to encourage more use of art for them as a bridge to reality. He said no and that there was no way for the Institution to provide any real continued effort to use art. Sadly the time ended and we left. I tried contacting some higher ups in the hierarchy, and several politicians, but failed to receive replies. Closed.
Perhaps to some the artist appears insane, and to the insane the artist appears sane. Creativity focuses the mind. Isolation just helps the focus.
May we all have a healthy, joyous, creatively robust New Year!
Sherrie (lionpainter)
In Wake Forest
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