Depressing thought

After recently speaking to a musician friend about his depression, I got thinking again about the whole mental stability/art paradigm. I've often pondered why the most mentally unstable (no derogatory connotations intended) people are often responsible for some of the world's greatest art. From the ear-chopping Van Gogh to the recently departed Elliot Smith (a real shock when I found out), great art has so often come from disturbed minds. I used to say as a teenager, when trying to be oh so deep and trying to write poetry and music, that I could never do a good job of it because I just wasn't fucked up enough. This was around the time Cobain swallowed a double barrel. I visited Arles en Provence, where Van Gogh lived for a time and painted some of his most famous works. There was an exhibition on in homage to him and I couldn't get over some of the writings of the artists who drew inspiration from his suffering and used that as their own suffering. It seemed to me to be a bit try-hard. It's like they weren't writing the next great unrequitednobodyunderstandsmelove song, they were just belting out Ben Folds' Evaporated on the home organ their parents bought them. (And just try to go to Arles and check out the Van Gogh exhibits without that bloody Don McLean song going through your head 24 hours a day) I realise that's kind of beside the point I was making. In fact, I'm not sure I was even making a point. I guess some people with issues just turn out to be good songwriters/artists and probably bus drivers and accountants. It's probably just one of those things I've noticed and looked for a trend but where there probably isn't one. This type of art though probably strikes a chord with everyone because it is art, and therefore, out there to be seen. It's there for us to identify with. We probably wouldn't recognise the same tortured genius in a bus driver by the way he takes corners or dispenses change from that cool machine where they press the buttons and the coins fall into the tray. I think the first time I made the depressed-brilliant connection was when I read a book of poems by Spike Milligan at a party. I grabbed a piece of paper and wrote a few of them down. I was about 15 and I'd never read anything quite so dark. I remember lines like A beating chisel cuts your face in my eyes and I'd never been exposed to imagery like that before and it kind of blew me away. So I still suck at writing songs, even though I've had my moments of being up and down. My best song to date is still about a coffee machine. (Maybe I'm just fucked up in a different way)