Stories Behind the Arts #1: The Use of Sorrow

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        Some days ago, a young man approached me-- asked if he could flip through my sketch packet. I accepted, and after flipping through a few, he told me; clear as day- "Your work's very beautiful, but almost everything is sad."

I grew slightly sheepish, found myself shrugging and replied-

"..Sorrow is an honest emotion, I find sorrow inspires."

Not really thinking about it before-- I found my off-guard response to be worth digging deeper about. 

     I went home that day, turned to my music collection-- and I listened to records like 'Catch Us for the Foxes' by mewithoutYou, 'Of Love and Lunacy' by Still Remains, Oren Lavie's 'The Opposite Side of the Sea', and 'High Violet' by The National.
I don't think I could listen to these records in their entirety without sighing a bit, and perhaps losing my nerve in holding back more than a few tears. At the same time.. I love these artists. There's something about a longing voice, a sigh, and a surprisingly strong part of a song that captivates me. I may enjoy a Katy Perry song for a week or two, and you might find a Justin Timberlake record on my ipod-- but those songs don't typically inspire me. Smoke-like Spectacle and records that are described as 'a night at the club' aren't very timeless.

Most people assume that if you draw sad things, enjoy listening to sad songs-- then you must be prone to depression, awfully melancholy, or something of that sort.

  That's not always true.

      I know sorrow-- however, I'm naturally prone to being impish and humorous. Even with all my goofball-ish traits; I enjoy life very much-- but I've found that if I don't draw an emotional scene for a long while-- I start growing restless and just basically, really need to create something bittersweet as soon as I can. It doesn't matter if I've been having the best week of my life-- there's a part of me that loves sorrow and the darker parts of people. I suppose you could call it my wine. I read Dostoyevsky like it's my job; and perhaps I've made good company of sadness, most likely-- I'm bashfully in love with it. It's beautiful when put in sound and letter and stroke.

       Work with an emotional connection inspires, the most popular titles and artists today might dominate the billboard, but you rarely hear people say "this.. energy-drink-like radio pop song has inspired me to be a better artist. It's been my companion in the hard times when my thoughts were hard to voice."


You may call me as you'd like-- but I need humanity. If it doesn't hit me in the pit of my stomach, if I don't need to stop and sigh, if I don't need to set a time aside to listen to a record because of the emotional experience it gives me, if I don't need to stand back and really remember what I'm making: It won't really have much value to me, I might even completely scrap the project; It is that important to me.    
         I think that when one sees sad, dark artwork-- the people who pay a different kind of attention just might see things differently; because singing or performing, or else sketching a portrait of longing, isolation or loss and everything else; are ways of embracing where we've been, what we've loved and lost-- or perhaps might be a way to connect with someone who is currently there. There can be familiarity as well as mystery. I think I have the opposite effect when I see a bittersweet scene-- I feel something romantic. It's a way to bring me back to earth when I'm in the clouds, and to pull me back to the surface when I'm in a deep problematic state. Works that 
artistically express an honest state have a soothing affect on people.

I also think there's a difference between acknowledging pain, and dwelling in pain. 

There is a complaining, angered state of angst; and then a romantic, dreamy, rainy-day sorrow; there is one that comforts and relieves you, (and might even catch you dreaming)--- and there is another that feeds you more negativity, it just torments your mind and your soul. We've got to be careful and know the difference between the two. Sometimes it's difficult for me to be present these days, but as easy as it would be to lock myself in my room and stare at the walls and convince myself that this is as far as I'm going to get-- it's often the choice of sacrifice that empowers us to face another day. Some might wonder-- just how is it that sometimes reading a story about going through pain makes you feel better then a one about a perfect day? Perhaps it could be a sense of companionship. 

Concept is powerful, execution is vital; and technique is a key ingredient-- but emotion and stories connect. I dearly believe that.

The sketches I make are a companion to me. The characters I use are channels that I find I can flow very well with. I case some might wonder why my work is often tragic or emotional-- it is simply because I have a terrible and lovely infatuation with the emotion of sadness; not because I am a sad person, or a pessimistic sort; but simply because I find emotional art to be utterly beautiful.




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DalekMercy's avatar
Beautiful poetic words :) I'm the opposite. I draw things with colour, not nessasarily happy things. But I'm quite a brooding (not depressed) person.

The only comparison I can think of is in Vincent and the Doctor when Black says the Van Gogh turned his suffering into eccstatic beauty though art. For me I'm simply turning to see the positives, seeing the good in sadness and how it makes us human or appreciate beauty so much more.

Kinda like expressing my hopes physically.