World Creators, or What I Wish Someone Explained to Me Years Ago...
Other possible titles include:
What Creative People Have in Common with Angsty Teens, or Why Artists Are Assholes.
~
Artists are notoriously unable to live with other people. Throughout history there have been a notable amount of especially talented individuals who seem to have had troublesome home lives, if not remaining at least somewhat isolated.
In "The Courage to Be" Paul Tillich writes of the state of being of a modern human from a philosophical & psychological perspective. Therein he mentions the Creative as being unable to accept into or create a unity with himself and reality due to a profound dissatisfaction with it as well as with the "absolute threat of nonbeing". The problem that arises from this dissatisfaction is that one is then faced with extreme anxiety, which is defined as a state of constant worry and unease due to a situation. Since the situation in question (living itself) is somewhat inescapable, "Anxiety turns toward courage, because the other alternative is despair. Courage resists despair by taking anxiety into itself," to quote Tillich. Despair would lead to a kind of escape, but that sort which promises no greater comfort for the anxious and for that reason is often a last resort. Tillich asserts that the "average person keeps himself away from the extreme situations by dealing courageously with concrete objects of fear. He usually is not aware of nonbeing and anxiety in the depth of his personality." However, "He who does not succeed in taking his anxiety courageously upon himself can succeed in avoiding the extreme situation of despair by escaping into neurosis."
This neurosis is present in many a creative individual because these people are thinkers, sensitive, and unable to ignore their own anxiety, thus having to turn to this method of coping when despair becomes unbearable. To refer to Tillich yet again: "Even if pathological anxiety has psychotic traits, creative moments can appear. There are sufficient examples of this fact in the biographies of creative men." The anxiety of the neurotic is what leads him to create alternate worlds: both the artist and the man of logic throws himself into a type of problem-solving which is idiosyncratic on some level. The "world" they create is not necessarily the stereotypical castle of imaginary wonders or something so concrete as the very stylistically differentiable works of some artists... Tim Burton comes to mind straight away as an example of a clearly obvious "world-creator". No, the world is a mental construct wherein one is safe to evaluate reality on his own terms and to create based on his dissatisfactions. For instance, Einstein (who is known to have had a less than excellent relationship with his wife and family, with whom he was rarely if ever photographed) became completely obsessed with light at a young age. For him (as with many logical creatives) the dissatisfaction had to do with the fact that the problem of light was thus far unanswered, so he felt it his duty to provide the world, even if only his world, with what it was missing. Ergo his inner universe would consist of the blueprints, objects, connections, etc. having to do with this particular interest, until he solved the problem.
Unlike the serious neurotic who derives more pain than pleasure from his escapism and who instead desires some means of coming back to reality (medication, therapy, etc.), the creative is often quite happy to continue living in his own fortress and not only that but is actually encouraged by society because he is able to channel his neurosis healthily: it's clear that historically, artists, inventors, scientists, mathematicians, philosophers, and even shamans have been held in high esteem for their positive contributions, even if possibly simultaneously ostracized for their maladjustment.
Now, the issue is that a created world demands upkeep, and the problem-solving that goes on within demands a serious dedication. It's for this reason that artists often have to choose to live or at least to work away from others: the Other can be either a distractor from or a contributor to the creative's inner world, or both, but hardly both at once. On occasion the creative needs a distractor, usually during periods of rest, while the other who functions as contributor might be known as a muse. However, should the other become a distractor during a time of concentration (even if the concentration is not readily visible) or basically, interrupt at a time when the creative is immersed in his inner world, it's possible that the creative will feel threatened by the intrusion, as if it were an actual assault (by the other's own reality) akin to breaking and entering. This distresses the creative, who will feel the need to take any measures necessary in order to subdue the attack: he might shut himself in, shut the other out, erupt in anger, or attempt to stopper his anxiety with reason, etcetera and so on depending upon his disposition. Needless to say, this behavior can create stress for either or both parties, which is why it becomes truly arduous for the artist to live in close quarters anyone at all, especially if he particularly cares for that other.
Speculating further, this could be the reason for some creatives' preference of an animal companion. Because a house pet, through loyalty and affection, can aid with loneliness that is bound to arise from extended isolation without actually disrupting the flow of thoughts that contribute to world creation and management (due to their diminutive ability to communicate), they are able to fit comfortably into the creative's lifestyle. That isn't to say that an animal doesn't require work, nor that they aren't troublemakers — only that in being unable to interject with their own spoken "outer"-worldly ideas, they are less disturbing than a human might be. In fact Michelangelo —one of the first artists who preferred to be alone and refused assistants while working — reportedly had a small dog who was allowed in the Sistine Chapel as the artist was painting.
This partiality to pets may also have contributed to some of the myths about witches/wizards and their "familiars" (often cats, toads, and the like). The early high regard for shamans fell out of vogue especially during religious times, so it would be hardly any surprise if a "witch" was actually a neurotic creative, isolated not only due to the reasons discussed above but because of fears of and pressures from the townspeople, thus living with animals to make up for lack of human interaction.
What Creative People Have in Common with Angsty Teens, or Why Artists Are Assholes.
~
Artists are notoriously unable to live with other people. Throughout history there have been a notable amount of especially talented individuals who seem to have had troublesome home lives, if not remaining at least somewhat isolated.
In "The Courage to Be" Paul Tillich writes of the state of being of a modern human from a philosophical & psychological perspective. Therein he mentions the Creative as being unable to accept into or create a unity with himself and reality due to a profound dissatisfaction with it as well as with the "absolute threat of nonbeing". The problem that arises from this dissatisfaction is that one is then faced with extreme anxiety, which is defined as a state of constant worry and unease due to a situation. Since the situation in question (living itself) is somewhat inescapable, "Anxiety turns toward courage, because the other alternative is despair. Courage resists despair by taking anxiety into itself," to quote Tillich. Despair would lead to a kind of escape, but that sort which promises no greater comfort for the anxious and for that reason is often a last resort. Tillich asserts that the "average person keeps himself away from the extreme situations by dealing courageously with concrete objects of fear. He usually is not aware of nonbeing and anxiety in the depth of his personality." However, "He who does not succeed in taking his anxiety courageously upon himself can succeed in avoiding the extreme situation of despair by escaping into neurosis."
This neurosis is present in many a creative individual because these people are thinkers, sensitive, and unable to ignore their own anxiety, thus having to turn to this method of coping when despair becomes unbearable. To refer to Tillich yet again: "Even if pathological anxiety has psychotic traits, creative moments can appear. There are sufficient examples of this fact in the biographies of creative men." The anxiety of the neurotic is what leads him to create alternate worlds: both the artist and the man of logic throws himself into a type of problem-solving which is idiosyncratic on some level. The "world" they create is not necessarily the stereotypical castle of imaginary wonders or something so concrete as the very stylistically differentiable works of some artists... Tim Burton comes to mind straight away as an example of a clearly obvious "world-creator". No, the world is a mental construct wherein one is safe to evaluate reality on his own terms and to create based on his dissatisfactions. For instance, Einstein (who is known to have had a less than excellent relationship with his wife and family, with whom he was rarely if ever photographed) became completely obsessed with light at a young age. For him (as with many logical creatives) the dissatisfaction had to do with the fact that the problem of light was thus far unanswered, so he felt it his duty to provide the world, even if only his world, with what it was missing. Ergo his inner universe would consist of the blueprints, objects, connections, etc. having to do with this particular interest, until he solved the problem.
Unlike the serious neurotic who derives more pain than pleasure from his escapism and who instead desires some means of coming back to reality (medication, therapy, etc.), the creative is often quite happy to continue living in his own fortress and not only that but is actually encouraged by society because he is able to channel his neurosis healthily: it's clear that historically, artists, inventors, scientists, mathematicians, philosophers, and even shamans have been held in high esteem for their positive contributions, even if possibly simultaneously ostracized for their maladjustment.
Now, the issue is that a created world demands upkeep, and the problem-solving that goes on within demands a serious dedication. It's for this reason that artists often have to choose to live or at least to work away from others: the Other can be either a distractor from or a contributor to the creative's inner world, or both, but hardly both at once. On occasion the creative needs a distractor, usually during periods of rest, while the other who functions as contributor might be known as a muse. However, should the other become a distractor during a time of concentration (even if the concentration is not readily visible) or basically, interrupt at a time when the creative is immersed in his inner world, it's possible that the creative will feel threatened by the intrusion, as if it were an actual assault (by the other's own reality) akin to breaking and entering. This distresses the creative, who will feel the need to take any measures necessary in order to subdue the attack: he might shut himself in, shut the other out, erupt in anger, or attempt to stopper his anxiety with reason, etcetera and so on depending upon his disposition. Needless to say, this behavior can create stress for either or both parties, which is why it becomes truly arduous for the artist to live in close quarters anyone at all, especially if he particularly cares for that other.
Speculating further, this could be the reason for some creatives' preference of an animal companion. Because a house pet, through loyalty and affection, can aid with loneliness that is bound to arise from extended isolation without actually disrupting the flow of thoughts that contribute to world creation and management (due to their diminutive ability to communicate), they are able to fit comfortably into the creative's lifestyle. That isn't to say that an animal doesn't require work, nor that they aren't troublemakers — only that in being unable to interject with their own spoken "outer"-worldly ideas, they are less disturbing than a human might be. In fact Michelangelo —one of the first artists who preferred to be alone and refused assistants while working — reportedly had a small dog who was allowed in the Sistine Chapel as the artist was painting.
This partiality to pets may also have contributed to some of the myths about witches/wizards and their "familiars" (often cats, toads, and the like). The early high regard for shamans fell out of vogue especially during religious times, so it would be hardly any surprise if a "witch" was actually a neurotic creative, isolated not only due to the reasons discussed above but because of fears of and pressures from the townspeople, thus living with animals to make up for lack of human interaction.





