The Ecstacy of Artistry: Is The Artist’s Catalyst For Creativity Also Their Destiny For Addiction?

In her 2010 memoir Just Kids Patti Smith recounts, “It was while Robert Mapelthorpe was dropping acid that he realized he was an artist.” Would the timid, yet renowned and provocative, photographer have gained the courage to develop and present his atypical work to the New York art scene without the support of his substance abuse? Creativity and artistry call upon the senses, and it is no secret that drugs, hallucinogenic or not, heighten them. This mere fact, however, cannot explain the age-old phenomenon of creatives’ use of substances as artistic paraphernalia, just as significant as a paint brush, sewing needle, pen, or typewriter. It also does not explain how this tool can reveal a dark side, and develop as an addiction and barrier between the creator and their creations. When Roman poet, Ovid, pronounced that “There is no poetry amongst water drinkers,” he may have been referring to the creativity that alcohol incites. Having written about man-turned-bug, still studied centuries later, one can deem him worthy of such declaration. Ovid, however, may not have recognized that the effects of substances, specifically psychedelic drugs, are scientifically proven to align with the criteria for the generation of creativity. American psychologist, Carl. R Rogers, notes in his 1959 journal article, Toward a Theory of Creativity, that creativity requires “a sensitive awareness of feelings and openness to all phases of experience, intuition, aesthetic sensibility, a sense of satisfaction in self-expression.” These qualities are akin to those of the “psychedelic experience,” or the symptoms that arise while under the influence of hallucinogenic drugs. As illustrated by consultant psychiatrist and psychedelic researcher, Dr. Ben Sessa in an article the the November 2008 issue of the Journal of Psychopharmacology, the effects of the psychedelic experience include “a general increase in complexity and openness, such that the usual ego-bound restraints that allow humans to accept given preconceived ideas about themselves and the world around them are necessarily challenged.” This relation can explain why American psychiatrist Oscar Janiger, conducted a study testing 60 artists’ work both on and off of LSD over the course of 7 years, and had an art history professor analyze the results. The professor recounted the art created on LSD to be "enhanced, with more of a presence of expressionism, sharper colors, increased syntactical organization.” If such results are true, can psychedelics be compared to that of a performance enhancing drug like steroids for athletes? Are those who choose to take the sober route at a creative disadvantage, perpetuating the pressure amongst creators to partake in such practices? While drug consuming artists are scientifically likely to find inspiration through such practices, they are also biologically susceptible to complications. It is no coincidence that those who seek drugs to express life and its mysteries through a fantastic lens are those who already possess this ability, but yearn to intensify it. This superpower results in heightened sensitivity of one's surroundings and experiences and often leads to a sensory overload. Such divergent observational skills can come along with neurodivergence. Several studies have found that manic depression is followed by those with creative tendencies. In 1987, neuroscientist and neuropsychiatrist, Nancy Andreason, studied creative writers for fifteen years, where she found 37% of her subjects to be depressed, 43% manic, and 30% percent alcoholics. The control group was found to possess a mere 7% average of such topics. As interpreted by Danielle Knafo, in her 2008 article, The Senses Grow Skilled in Their Craving: Thoughts on Creativity and Addiction, “Substances are therefore employed by artists... to both increase and decrease sensitivity.” Knafo alludes to the vices that artists use to soothe their anguish becoming the very source of said turmoil. Enter: addiction. Knafo discusses the differentiation between writers like E.B. White who recounted that “I always treat myself to a nice dry martini. Just one, to give me the courage to get started. After that, I am on my own” and addicts like Jean Michelle Basquiatte, Jackson Pollock, and Jimi Hendrix who lost their lives to addiction. In seeking primary knowledge of today’s established creatives’ personal experiences with substances, I interviewed two subjects whom I have decided to keep anonymous. The first, “C,” has worked closely in the art, fashion, and literary industry, with arts’ and fashion’s leaders like Phoebe Philo, Rei Kawakubo, and David Sedaris. The second, “A,” has also worked in the industry for decades as the president of sales at Vivienne Westwood, and founded a non-profit funded by the USAID for Ukrainian designers. While they both have consumed psychedelic drugs, their relationships to substances diverge. C recounted having tried LSD for the first time in 1968, when she was just thirteen years old, after admiring the hippie movement. She swore never to do it again but she tried it again about a year later. While C can admit that the substance is “certainly associated with creative thought,” she never took its role in her creative process, past dropping acid with her friends in high school and “embroider(ing) patterns on our boyfriend's jeans. It was really, actually, fashion wise. Those guys looked so great.” C also reminisced on American artists like the Grateful Dead requiring a “lifestyle of exploration, and out-of-body experience, if you will. You have got to be someone that's very interested in taking risks.”

Such risk taking most certainly translated from their lifestyle practices to their alternative work, a notion that A identified in her interview as well. She divulged the risks that those in the creative scene must take to set their collections apart from others. A illustrates how when designing, “you are trying to dream while you're awake ... and make this you know, whole collection and it is so hard... you don't want to be known as this person who's ripping someone off, so you are really pressured to create something that is so different. That’s surreal.” A also discloses the pressures that working around the clock, party culture, and beauty standards have contributed to her continued regular use of drugs within her work. These two subjects were selected because they have worked in similar industries and circles in similar time periods, and possess alike qualities. C’s and A’s comparable outlooks on the role of drugs in creativity, and disparate consumption habits, prove the different function that substances can serve, depending on the user’s personal makeup. Psychological science proves that psychedelic drug-use expands creativity. It also proves that artists who employ these methods as a form of creative support are biologically prone to addictive personalities. What this discourse had yet to mention, is the eventual imagination and achievement that is diminished through consistent drug habits. Prisoners of addiction are often consumed by their dependence, forcing their art on the backburner. While creativity is often regarded as an addiction, drug addiction never fails to vanquish the inventive fire that every artist possesses. In Malerei aus Bereichen des Unbewussten: Künstler Experimentieren Unter LSD (1974), German author, Richard P. Hartmann notes, “Artists who continuously used drugs lost their capacity for judgment and reflectivity, resulting in their erroneous estimation of ‘artistic banalities as artistic breakthroughs.” Such struggle is the anomaly that drug consumption provides, forcing the user to choose between their craft, and the very vice that they employed to fortify it. About one year ago I experimented with MDMA. My boyfriend at the time who works in the fashion industry suggested we take it together and go listen to techno music in Queens. Now, as a result, I am in intensive trauma therapy and have been presumably diagnosed with HPPD, Hyper Persisting Perception Disorder. I suffer from daily flare ups of anxiety, dizziness, dissociation, and sometimes auditory and visual hallucinations. In an effort to prevent this article from morphing into an anti-drug campaign, I have intentionally excluded recommendations against substance consumption, mentions of laced synthetics in today’s drug market, and all of the other sermonizing points. Research proves that substance use can contribute to the artistic process and momentarily ease the struggling artists’ pain. However, one year after experiencing a nightmare like drug induced trauma from a decision that was meant to be a spontaneous effort to “feel music differently,” I must note the spectacular method in which I have found peace. Every month or two, I return to the very location in Queens where I experienced my “bad trip,” and I repeat the evening almost identically. I listen to similar music, in the same space, dressed in a similar black ensemble. I practice such a routine, however, substance free. Each visit equips me with more confidence to dance however I so please in a room full of strangers, the adrenaline to stay energized for hours on end, and a new acute sensitivity and openness to the music.

My ritual afterwards often consists of a long hot shower followed by painting or writing while listening to Fleetwood Mac and Cat Stevens. It is in this endurance and faith in myself, where I have realized my innate mental capacity, without the crutch of a tab, pill, or drink to discover my creativity.