Madness & Its Discontents: The Link Between Mental Illness and Creativity
Content Warning: This article contains depictions of suicide and self-harm.
Author’s Note: When writing this piece, I had to contend with whether or not I was exploiting the lives of the profiled creatives. I chose to write about the lives of each creative to show the influence that mental illness can have on a person’s life and art. Each profiled creative believed that their mental illness contributed to their creative abilities.
When writing these profiles, I chose to stick to the facts and only the facts. My hope was that I was not sensationalizing any aspects of each creative’s mental illness. My initial profiles contained Vincent Van Gogh, Virginia Woolf, Sylvia Plath, Kurt Cobain, and Kanye West. I chose to cut the profiles of the latter three artists because I could not, beyond reasonable doubt, prove that I was not exploiting their lives and illnesses. I also want to acknowledge that choosing the artists I chose to profile was, in itself, enforcing stereotypes about artists and mental illness. There are plenty of artists who live with mental illness and live healthy, stable lives. Their art matters, too. As does the art of the thousands of creatives of renown who did not suffer from mental illness.
This article aims to explore the connection between mental illness and creativity. It does not intend to cause harm to the creatives it profiles or to sensationalize mental illness in any way. I hope it opens up a healthy dialogue for you and those in your life on society’s stereotypes of the mentally ill.
Art & Madness
The conclusion of Michel Foucault’s “Madness and Civilization: A History of Insanity in the Age of Reason” speaks to the question of Art and Madness. Foucault writes:
“Madness is the dark abyss from which creativity emerges.”
Foucault goes on to speak to the dichotomy that exists between art and madness. Much like Einstein’s famous quote, Foucault postures that madness both creates and destroys art. His philosophy is contradictory. Using the examples of Van Gogh and Artaud, Foucault argues that psychiatry does not, or cannot, listen to the voices of the mad. It is only through the creation of art, such as the paintings of Van Gogh, that the true voice of the mad can be heard by society. However, he posits, the buck stops there. While there is not much else left in his argument, it appears that he believes that madness can only be understood through creativity and that creativity can only be powered by madness.
The idea that mental illness and creativity work in tandem is not new. Foucault’s “Madness and Civilization” was first published in 1961 and he was certainly not the first person to bring forward the idea of a correlation. Foucault, if he were around today, may even agree with the assumption that he was a product of his time per his conclusion. However, this stereotype still exists today. The “tortured artist” and the “mad genius” are just a few of the common tropes that permeate today’s societal understanding of mental illness and its concurrence with creativity. So much so that hundreds of medical studies around the world have been devoted to finding out whether or not there is a correlation between the two. Yet, in the past two decades, this correlation has been called a farce. A myth. Science has spoken: There is no link between creativity and mental illness.
So where did this myth start? And why do we romanticize creativity as some kind of beacon of hope or silver lining to mental illness? Foucault would argue that it is because we refuse to see madness for what it truly is. We must, in a sense, view art as the only palatable way to view mental illness. Otherwise, our society could not understand what Foucault calls “unreason” or, put simply, madness. Yet it seems that so many of the Western world’s famous artists, painters, poets, writers, actors, musicians, and comedians all fall victim to mental illness. This alone seems to prove the argument that creativity and mental illness are intertwined in a way science has yet to prove. We will take a look at the lives and work of two of the Western world’s “tortured artists” to further understand if a correlation exists or if it is all just a myth.
The Mad Genuis
A 2007 study by K. S. Pavitra, C. R. Chandrashekar, and Partha Choudhury for the Indian Journal of Psychiatry, titled “Creativity and mental health: A profile of writers and musicians” notes that:
“Since ancient times, the observation has been made that extremely creative individuals were unusual in many ways and it has been suggested that psychological processes akin to those observed in madness might be an important component of the special abilities of genius.”
We can indeed trace our cultural preoccupation with madness as an artistic gift back to the Greco-Roman era. It was Socrates himself who stated, “The greatest blessing granted to mankind comes by the way of madness.” Any simple Google search on “creativity and mental illness” will bring up a plethora of articles, studies, and Reddit threads about the subject. As Elaine Woo investigates in her article for Getty, “The Link Between Creativity and Mental Illness” it is nearly impossible to make a blanket statement that all mental illness is linked to all creativity due to the broad and complex range of psychopathologies that make comparison difficult.
The Creative Brain
Scott Barry Kauffman argues in his article in Scientific American that:
“…research does show that many eminent creators — particularly in the arts — had harsh early life experiences (such as social rejection, parental loss, or physical disability) and mental and emotional instability. However, this does not mean that mental illness was a contributing factor to their eminence. There are many eminent people without mental illness or harsh early life experiences, and there is very little evidence suggesting that clinical, debilitating mental illness is conducive to productivity and innovation.”
But what defines creativity? This is a problem that has repeatedly presented itself for those trying to measure the correlation between creativity and mental illness. According to a 2012 article by Mark A. Runco & Garrett J. Jaeger, “The Definition of Creativity”, in the Creativity Research Journal, the standard definition of creativity is that it must require “originality and effectiveness”. In a sense, creativity is original ideas that must be effectively executed.
Creative brains, as studied in the UCLA Big-C study, were broken up into four parts: Big-C, Pro-C, and mini-c, Little-C is also identified. As stated above, Big-C creativity refers to creative products of renown. Pro-C refers to creative work done by professionals, such as painters or architects, but not necessarily works of great renown. Mini-c are bits and pieces of creativity, such as doodles. Little-C creativity is an every day creativity that is applied to problem-solving.
Having somewhat solid definitions of creativity may make it easier for social scientists to study the correlation between mental illness and creativity, but at the moment, there are just too many variables. There is no one agreed upon definition or human trait that makes up creativity, which is what makes studying it alongside mental illness a difficult process. Some Big-C creatives may be able to give us clues.
Vincent Van Gogh
“I put my heart and soul into my work and I have lost my mind in the process.”
Vincent Van Gogh is not only revered for his painting “The Starry Night”, but is also famously known as the painter who cut off his ear while in a fit of madness. Van Gogh lived a life of beauty and tragedy.
Van Gogh, a prolific and skilled painter, painted on average 1 painting a day during his adult life. His work would not be recognized for what it was until after his death, but he often used his paintings to barter for room and board or money for food and alcohol.
Born on March 30, 1853 in Zundert, Netherlands, Van Gogh was born into a family of three sisters and two brothers, according to the Van Gogh Museum. In his teen years, he spent time clerking for an art dealer and it was around the age of 27 that Van Gogh decided he wanted to become a full-time professional artist. He began painting and drawing to make a living.
In 1889, Van Gogh was hospitalized at the psychiatric hospital in Saint-Rémy-de-Provence due to “unstable” mental health. During his one year stay, he painted nearly 150 paintings. The Van Gogh Museum notes that during his stay, his mental health fluctuated and in one period of confusion, Van Gogh ate his oil paint.
Shortly after leaving Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, Vincent Van Gogh ended his life.
What does it mean that Van Gogh’s work seemed to be so intricately tied with his mental illness? For one, we must keep in mind context and not try to armchair diagnose Vincent Van Gogh from a 2024 lens. We do know, according to the Van Gogh Museum, that the artist was diagnosed with temporal lobe epilepsy. Epilepsy, during this time, was a diagnosis used to cover a myriad of mental ailments. Van Gogh has posthumously been diagnosed with everything from bipolar I disorder to schizophrenia to borderline personality disorder. Commonly, it is thought today that Van Gogh most likely suffered from bipolar disorder.
Did Van Gogh’s bipolar disorder have any effect on his creativity? Did his stay at the psychiatric hospital in Saint-Rémy-de-Provence prove productive because of his madness? Science says there is little evidence. A study conducted by Christa Taylor out of University of Albany, State University of New York, cited:
“research doesn’t disprove the myth about creativity and mood disorders, it does show that we have little evidence to support it. She warns that myths like this can put people in peril. Popular misconceptions may mislead many creative people to worry that getting help for a mental disorder may actually stifle or hurt their artistry or inventiveness”
So not only can the correlations of creativity and mental illness be slim in our society, but they can also potentially be harmful.
Vincent Van Gogh is best remembered for his works The Starry Night, Sunflowers, Almond Blossom, Cafe Terrace at Night, and The Potato Eaters, among many others.
Virginia Woolf
“My brain hums with scraps of poetry and madness.”
In her suicide note to her husband, Leonard, the prolific, innovative, and writer of wit, Virginia Woolf, warned her love that she was “going mad again” and that she “did not think [she] would be able to recover this time.” On March 28, 1941, Virginia Woolf would take her life after a lifelong battle with serious mental illness.
Virginia Woolf is one of the most famous, well-respected, and misunderstood female novelists in Western culture. Her works, including multiple books, poetry, and hundreds of letters and diary entries, paint a picture of who Virginia Woolf might have been. Yet, it seems, she was always just out of reach.
Born in South Kensington, London as Adeline Virginia Stephen on January 25, 1882, Virginia was one of four children. After her mother’s passing when Virginia was just 13, Virginia inherited two half-brothers. After Julia, Virginia’s mother passed, Virginia began to show symptoms of what many modern psychiatrists have diagnosed as manic-depressive illness, or what is better known as bipolar disorder. However, as with Van Gogh, we must keep historical context in mind and not armchair diagnose Woolf. If was then that she began to suffer mood swings from depression to mania and experience psychosis, including hearing voices. At the age of fifteen, Woolf began to exhibit suicidal ideation, writing about it in her journal. As time went on, Virginia’s mental health worsened. She would spend three short stays between 1910–1913 at a women’s home for rest.
Woolf’s literary work carried on despite her struggles with mental illness and she wrote well into her 50s. However, it is believed that some of her breakdowns were attributed to the pressure and stress she put on herself to finish her work. Virginia also toyed with the idea that madness was a potential factor in her creativity, wondering if madness helped or hindered her creative process. An article by Katherine Dalsimer in The American Journal of Psychiatry, writes:
“At times Woolf railed against her illness, felt frustrated and impeded by it, and at other times, she felt that it was essential to her. In diaries and letters, she returned to the question repeatedly without reaching a resolution: was her illness a terrible obstacle to her art, or was it the necessary condition for it?”
How, indeed, did Virginia’s self-professed madness influence her work, if at all?
What does one say of Woolf’s idea of madness? One place to look is at is the study done by the UCLA Semenel Institue for Neuroscience and Human Behavior’s Big-C study. Big-C creators create works of renown. Virginia Woolf would fall directly into the Big-C category.
The Big-C methodology has been applied to multiple case studies, including a 2019 study done by Knudsen, K. S., Bookheimer, S. Y., & Bilder, R. M. titled “Is psychopathology elevated in Big-C visual artists and scientists?”. The study examined 35 Big-C visual artists and 41 Big-C scientists, as well as a smart comparison group, alongside psychopathology of schizotypal personality traits, social responsiveness/autism spectrum traits, and lifetime incidence of mental disorders along with lab-based tests of creativity in a unique sample of Big-C (exceptionally creative) individuals. According to the study:
“The findings indicate that neither exceptional creativity nor performance on tests that putatively assess creativity are associated with mental illness.”
While this is just one study out of hundreds, it appears that Big-C creativity does not have a relation to mental illness. Whether Virginia Woolf saw her mental illness as a help or a hindrance to her creativity, it is clear she suffered greatly because of it.
Virginia Woolf is best remembered by her novels The Voyage Out, Mrs. Dalloway, To the Lighthouse, Orlando, The Waves, Flush, The Years, and Between the Acts.
Madness and Its Discontents
As Freud argues in his book “Civilization and Its Discontents”, humans have certain fixed instincts and that when a person creates a situation of what he calls the pleasure principle (in this case art) it creates a feeling of mild resentment, as it clashes with what he calls the reality principle (in this case, the absence of mental illness). This supports Foucault’s argument on art as a vehicle for unreason and a lens for reason. Yet Freud does not entirely shirk art. He states:
“Beauty has no obvious use; nor is there any clear cultural necessity for it. Yet civilization could not do without it.”
A 40-year-long Swedish study published in the Journal of Psychiatric Medicine conducted by Simon Kyaga, Mikael Landén, Marcus Boman, Christina M. Hultman, Niklas Långström, Paul Lichtenstein titled, “Mental illness, suicide, and creativity: A 40 year prospective total population study” concluded:
“…overall creative professions were not more likely to suffer from investigated psychiatric disorders than controls.”
While the study did find some interesting correlations between the siblings of those with mental illness (but only certain psychopathologies) and creative professions, it was clear over time that mental illness had no affect on creative performance.*
Much like creativity, mental illness is hard to define due to changing diagnoses, pathologies, and a need for contextualization. As was chronicled with the lives of both Vincent Van Gogh and Virginia Woolf, armchair diagnoses from the lens of a 2024 understanding of psychiatry is hardly helpful in understanding their lives and creative works.
The main problem that presents itself when trying to correlate mental illness to creativity is that there is no such thing as a blanket mental illness and within each illness there are no blanket set of symptoms. Each person experiencing mental illness does so uniquely and individually. Trying to create a control group with one hundred unique experiences and an already disagreed upon definition of creativity, and a study is ripe for failure. As we learn more about mental illness and exceedingly more about neurodivergence, these studies become more and more obsolete.
A New Stereotype
In a 2009 Ted Talk titled “Your elusive creative genius”, writer Elizabeth Gilbert discusses the stereotype of the mad genius and the tortured artist. Gilbert puts forth that she does not want to see this stereotype continue into the 21st century argues that creatives can live happy, healthy lives.
Is the stereotype of the mad genius something of the 20th century? Unfortunately, no. Artists such as Kanye West, Mac Miller, Robin Williams, and Heath Ledger come to mind. However, there are creatives who are open about their struggles with mental illness who also live stable, happy lives. Selena Gomez, Lady Gaga, Demi Lavato, and even Buzz Aldrin all report being diagnosed with mental illness. While life is not always easy for these artists, they have been able to create within a healthy environment.
The lives and work of these creatives show that maybe mental illness, a tragic life, and creativity don’t really have a link at all.
The Great Question
Was Socrates correct when he said that all good things come through madness? Was Foucault’s analysis that madness can only be understood through art a pressing commentary of the West in the 1960s, or perhaps from the Dark Ages onwards? Truly not every artist is mad. Some of the greatest artists in history- William Shakespeare, Leonardo da Vinci, Frida Kahlo, John Lennon- did not suffer from madness. So we can firmly say that madness is not the key to grand creativity. In fact, it may make for terribly tragic lives. Yet we admire the beauty nevertheless.
*End Note: Most studies conducted that disproved the link between mental illness and creativity did note one outlier: bipolar disorder. In the referenced 40-year-long Swedish study, it was found that people with bipolar disorder had an 8% higher instance of exhibiting creative behavior. Similar studies produced similar findings. There is no clear connection to be made just yet.
