why do we love sad art?
an exploration of the human mind and the ethics of sad art.
Lost In Translation (2003)
I love sad movies. Whenever I hear that a piece of media has made people cry, I’m immediately drawn to it. I assume many of you can relate to this. But why are we so captivated by sad art? This question has lingered in my mind for a long time, prompting me to contemplate the intricate workings of human emotions and psychology. Our attraction to melancholy and tragedy reveals deeper insights into our minds and our existential pondering.
What do the psychologist have to say?
There are two main theories proposed by psychologists on why we love sad art — hedonism and self-verification. Hedonism put simply is minimizing pain and maximizing pleasure, it’s a temporary way to feel better; engaging with negative emotions in controlled environments — like watching a sad movie or listening to a sad song — can allow us to release our emotions in a safe space. For example, when you listen to a melancholic song you might feel soothed by the relaxing tone of the melody or the beauty in the sad lyrics. Self-verification theory on the other hand, suggests that when you’re engaging with sad art, you have the chance to better understand yourself and affirm your identity. For instance — reading a book where you relate to the main character’s struggles can help you get a grasp of yourself and the role you play in the world and it can make you feel secure and understood.
The Perks Of Being A Wallflower (2012)
There are several other theories that might explain why sad art is so prominent in our culture, like addiction to pain, seeking out comfort, or even wanting to seem “deep” and more intellectual. One thing that is more evident in our society today, is the glorification of mental illness, which draws us deeper into tragic media.
Glorified Misery
Even though I wasn’t a Tumblr girl, I am very aware of the lingering effect it has had on how we view mental illness. Tumblr, and social media in general, tend to romanticize mental illnesses like depression, bipolar disorder, and anxiety.
There is nothing inherently wrong with wanting to seek out beauty and comfort in your pain, but it quickly becomes harmful when all you consume is sad media or our understanding of mental illness becomes distorted. Romanticization of mental illness leads us to believe that mental illness isn’t a serious issue; it can make people wish they were mentally ill and invalidate the feelings of those who actually suffer from mental illness.
This can affect how we interact with sad art; a character’s trauma can be seen as “aesthetic” or a sad song you constantly listen to can become your reality. However, artists can’t control how we interpret their art, which brings me to my next point.
Artists glorifying misery
Artists can often take pride in their own pain. We have this idea that you can’t make meaningful art if you haven’t lived through enough pain and suffering. People debate over this topic all the time, but what’s evident is that most people find sad art more appealing than happy art. For instance, Vincent Van Gogh’s paintings are often overshadowed by his tragic life story, and it prompts the question: Would his work be as famous if it wasn’t for the sad backstory? Sad art often has more meaning, and is more relatable than happy art, and is therefore more appealing. After all, “Happy Ever After” isn’t a reality for most people, so it makes sense that they’d find the tragic ending more compelling.
Starry Night Over the Rhone (1888)
In most cases, artists creating sad art isn’t a bad thing. Sofia Coppola, for example, often writes very sad stories that a lot of people can relate to and seek comfort in. Her films are always beautifully crafted, and at their very core, they’re simply about the experience of being a human. However, there are times when artists can cross the line. In the movie Girl, Interrupted (1999), a teenager is rushed to a mental institution after a supposed suicide attempt. I personally enjoyed the movie, but I was very morally puzzled after watching it.
The movie is based on Susanna Kaysen’s memoir, Girl, Interrupted, where she talks about her real-life experience in a mental institution. I noticed that the movie changes a couple of things in the story and leaves out very important details. For example, in the book, Susanna Kaysen makes it clear that she was misdiagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD); her symptoms never fit the diagnostic criteria. However, this is completely left out of the movie, leading the audience to misunderstand BPD. Misrepresentation of such important issues can contribute to stigmas and stereotypes. Several people with BPD have said that they didn’t relate to Susanna’s character in the film, or felt offended by the portrayal of the illness.
Girl, Interrupted (1999)
While the distortion of reality in Girl, Interrupted (1999) is undoubtedly questionable, the movie is relatable to a wide range of audiences, and the dramatic portrayal of the characters can evoke empathy and understanding on complicated topics. Despite all its flaws, the movie touches on universal themes of identity and human suffering, which highlights why sad art can be so appealing: it allows us to emotionally engage with the complexity of human experience.
We can all find comfort and relatability in sad art, but we have to make sure that we’re mindful and critical of what we’re consuming and how it affects us because it can easily become harmful and raise some ethical concerns.
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