The Art of Suffering
Must we suffer for our art?
“You probably think I’ve sold out…” I text my long-time indie-touring bff.
“Of course not! Why??” she replied.
“Because I’ve taken a big country touring gig, and I’m not pursuing my original band full-time.”
“Ummm, no, I think you’re paying your bills and - no big deal - taking a huge career step as a touring musician!”
My apprehension faded, and I got to work learning the set.
When I joined Sugarland in 2019, I was mostly over the moon.
It was the most significant touring gig I’d ever had, and it meant tour buses, big stages, my own bass tech (!), and a handsome paycheck at the end of each run.
But the gig also came with a low-level dread that I’d sold out.
I moved to Nashville to tour in my Americana duo, and I couldn’t shake the feeling people in the scene might think I was giving up the pursuit of success with my music to settle for the cushy life of a side player in a pop country band.
Deep down, I was worried I’d chosen money over art.
In retrospect, my feelings about the gig and the fear I had of being viewed as a “sell-out” by my indie friends was centered on the stereotype of the “tortured artist”; the toxic idea that you must suffer in the creation of something for it to be considered worthy art.
The trope of the “tortured artist” not only romanticizes suffering in creatives but also implies that said suffering is necessary as a conduit to creativity.
It leaves us feeling that if something is fun (like touring in a big pop country band), it is not a valid form of erudite artistic expression.
The idea of being a “tortured artist” leads to musicians, songwriters, and composers to feel like they must experience darkness and hardship to create valid art.
It’s also used as an excuse for shitty behavior in “artistes” toward their partners, friends, and family and treated as a reasonable justification for moodiness, untreated mental illness, inappropriately reclusive behavior, and poor financial decisions in the name of “great art”.
I call bullshit.
Firstly, if you need to drag yourself through the emotional ringer and leave a trail of romantic destruction in your wake to find the nugget of a song idea, I would posit that you’re not a particularly good songwriter.
I’m not a songwriter - but I have the privilege of knowing some excellent ones, the kind of songwriters who get paid to do it professionally and have a dozen or so Grammy Awards and number-one records to their names.
Two things strike me about those songwriters. Number one is that they treat it like a day job, working 9-5 Monday to Friday whether inspiration is striking that day or not. Number two, how they find seeds of song ideas mostly not from their own lives. They talk about finding ideas in books and movies, conversations with friends, or the snippets overheard from a stranger’s life. They don’t find inspiration solely in their own lives, so they’re not limited to only writing about their own experiences. They don’t have to create turmoil or blow up their relationships to have something to write about.
Secondly, to become a master of something, you have to do it for a long time, like decades. And to keep at something for that long, it has to be sustainable. I don’t think decades of heartache, emotional unrest, and treating your loved ones like crap to become a master songwriter or musician is feasible in the long term.
If you want to become great at anything, you must give yourself enough runway. And that runway must include paying your bills, nurturing your relationships, protecting your mental and physical health, and allowing time for inspiration.
When I look back on the Sugarland gig now, I realize I was choosing to hit pause on the heavy workload and poverty involved with pursuing my original music as my sole source of income.
I’d always wanted to pursue a career as a touring “gun for hire”, and focusing some time on that instead of spending 100% of my time on my band didn’t mean quitting original music forever.
Far from killing my original music dreams, my touring work allows me to funnel money into the original project. I earn money on the road with other people, and I take that money and use it to fund the other aspects of my life, whether it’s vacationing with my partner, the lifestyle I want, or studio time to record more original music.
It doesn’t matter how I’m making the money, so long as I’m making enough to survive and feel creatively fulfilled overall.
Instead of striving to be a “tortured artist”, build the life that allows you to be a “supported artist”, and you’ll have a better chance of growing into a great one.
When I was a kid I used to read about tortured composers. I don't think any of them felt they needed to feel tortured in order to be good. I doubt they even thought about it. They just lived this thing called life, and maybe the music was cathartic. I wonder of these days we think too much. As to the gig, I used to have arguments with my old man. He was an amazing artist. He had this ethic that I didn't really understand until after he died a couple of years ago. He never had much money because he wanted everyone to be able to afford his work, if they liked it. I agreed, but I also said, why don't you paint pictures of wealthy people's boats or do corporate art. They can afford it. He said no, because it isn't art. Then don't think of it as art, I said. Think of it as a skill, as a job, something you can do that gives pleasure to people.
Very good, yes. Thank you again.