Have you ever seen insanity where you later saw creativity?
I think most art has some sort of basis in insanity. Whether it be the eccentricity that led to Futon Mountain, my favourite ever installation in the Limerick City Gallery of Art, or the raw unmedicated emotion of The Bell Jar, I often associate creativity with a slightly altered mental state.
Obviously, the two are not mutually exclusive – unique thoughts do not reside only in the minds of crazy people – but personally, I have always found myself to be at my most musically productive at the periphery of an episode. Perhaps it has to do with access to my emotions and thoughts – however unpleasant they may be, on the days when I don’t numb out, I can create.
I don’t think I’ve really answered the question asked. I think its about finding the beauty in the mess. But I might as well go this route instead, as I have made a recent discovery. Although I can write (factually) whenever I am somewhat focused, writing songs takes sadness. A few months ago, I wrote a song mid relationship about what I felt was my contentness with the entire affair. Listening back to it, post break up, I could hear the doubt and the discontent. Be warned. If I complete my art, something is wrong.