Most of us admire creativity. Some of us also think that creative people are somehow different – obsessive, gifted, tortured in some way – a stereotype that is often perpetuated by our culture. Letting go of these ideas could allow more people to access the wellbeing benefits of creative activities, while also dispensing with a damaging mental-health myth.
There is a persistent trope on screen, in books and beyond, that creativity is the result of a fated convergence between talent and mental illness or obsession, and that it is elusive, something that only a few of us can tap into. It dates back centuries, but for contemporary examples, think Carrie Mathison taking a break from her bipolar disorder medication to solve a problem in Homeland’s “Super Powers” episode or Javier Bardem’s recent appearance as consumed poet Him in Aronofsky’s film Mother!
Beyond these romantic notions of art and suffering, there is a crucial link between creativity and mental health. Earlier this year a study found that GPs prescribing arts activities to some of their patients could cause a significant drop in hospital admissions. The positive impact that art therapy can have on helping returning soldiers has also been documented in recent years, providing further evidence that creativity can be therapeutic whatever your mental state.
In other words, we can all benefit from using our imagination – whether it’s drawing, dancing or singing, poetry or baking it’s not that important. However you choose to express yourself it doesn’t have to be perfect to have purpose.
In The Taste of Blue Light, my novel about a 17-year-old artist called Lux whose life unravels after she suffers a blackout, I wanted to explore a setting where art is everything, but through the eyes of a character whose mental health makes living up to that dogma all but impossible.
In writing the book while unwell myself, I was forced to confront the notion that to be a legitimate creative person you must be active in your chosen artistic field every day and that art should be prioritised above all else. It’s a notion that’s impractical and romantic at best, and exclusionary at worst. I’ve also experienced creativity’s capacity to heal us first hand – writing and (unskilful) painting help me to manage migraine, synaesthesia , anxiety and obsessive thoughts.
A quick poll of friends reveals two camps: the “Yes, I’m creative” people; and the “I don’t have a creative bone in my body” group. Yet there don’t have to be two separate tribes. All of us are creative every day – we take photos, find new approaches to solving problems, make jokes, tinker with recipes – but many of us don’t see it that way.
We need to remind ourselves that creativity can be as simple as playing or doing things differently, so that we give ourselves permission to open the door to other activities and usher in all the benefits that come with this – from time to reflect or overcoming perfectionism to communicating or simply having fun. In this way, building sandcastles or writing witty emails can be a gateway to a pottery class or keeping a journal or writing a poem.
Imagination and inventiveness should be for everyone. If we let go of the idea that artists are somehow “other” and that we can only access that part of ourselves when under pressure, we could all be more creative.
The Taste of Blue Light by Lydia Ruffles is published by Hodder, priced £12.99. To order a copy for £11.04, go to bookshop.theguardian.com
