Art out Of Pain
“the artist takes in the world, but instead of being oppressed by it, he reworks it in his own personality and recreates it in the work of art” Ernest Becker
There was a great scene in a movie and these two brothers that wished to become writers, We start learning about the story of their unfolding lives, the drama of their every day. One of the guys falls in love, and then his girlfriend commits suicide; something utterly tragic, erupts in his life, and the then the film continues, and, all in sudden, there’s a scent that shows him frantically writing down. and the narrator tells us he felt guilty over the creativity triggered by his lover’s death.
This notion that tragedy can lead to a breakthrough, can lead to rebirth, that the instances of suffering in our lives can actually inspire us to make beautiful art is a sort of paradoxical ecstasy. We can take our wounds and we can turn them into something larger, that we need not have suffered in vain game, is a wild idea, because it doesn’t mean that we are happy for our suffering.
It doesn’t mean that we wished for these tragic things to happen to us as artists, but it means that we’re able to take that pain, take that aching rhapsody and output something in the world and make a contribution, because at least that way, we validate the fact that we exist. we affirm ourselves.
We have no choice but to do so, in the face of entropy, in the face of death, to not say that we exist is to not live at all.