Are You Sure You Need to Be a "Lone Genius"?

In our society, we tend to tell a familiar story about a variety of famous artists, novelists, etc.: namely, the romantic story of the "lone genius." Frequently, as in the archetypal case of painter Vincent Van Gogh, it's a "crazed, lone genius."

But like all stereotypes, this one oversimplifies at best—and, at worst, is not only blatantly false but deeply damaging.

The Archetypal Lone Genius?

Van Gogh never wanted to be alone! Yes, he suffered from seizures later in his life, perhaps caused by temporal lobe epilepsy. Yes, his social skills were rudimentary.

Nonetheless, van Gogh tried with all his might to surround himself with supportive fellow artists. Again and again, he described his dream of a group of artists living together and supporting each other's art.

The closest he came to creating this dream, though, was living in four rooms of "the Yellow House" in the south of France. Hoping to entice a group of artists to share it with him, he was able to recruit only one fellow painter, Paul Gauguin, to join him.

But Vincent was not up to the task of living with Gauguin, who had previously surrounded himself with less famous artists prone to worshipping him. Further, Gauguin took every chance 1) to claim his superiority over van Gogh and 2) to criticize van Gogh's work. After nine rancorous weeks, Gauguin left the Yellow House and never saw van Gogh again.

In the end, Van Gogh's dream was never achieved, largely because of:

  • His tendency to expect more of others than they could possibly give;

  • His own irascible temper;

  • And his deep sense of being a failure who had caused untold suffering to those he loved.

For all that, van Gogh continued to yearn for companions who would help each other to move their art forward, guided by a sense of mutual support and a common purpose.

A False Warning-Tale?

The romantic picture of the "lone genius" was entered into van Gogh mythology in large part by Irving Stone's highly fictionalized 1934 novel about van Gogh, Lust for Life. The implication seems to be that it's the nature of artists to be misfit geniuses who can't live a normal life.

But van Gogh's peculiarities and mental illness weren't caused by his artistry. In fact, his art seemed to connect him to reality, countering the effects of his inability to fit into the perfect bourgeois lifestyle sought by his parents.

A "Failure" from the Start

What seemed to start his path to being the "odd child" was his attraction since early childhood to wandering in nature. He had a low tolerance for trying to behave like part of a model, prim, middle-class family. That drew the criticism of his mother, in particular, and caused the rest of his family to view him as a flawed misfit. In spite of his life-long desire to gain the approval of his parents, he never did.

It wasn't being an artist that made him unstable!

Van Gogh struggled with his lifetime of guilt—for disappointing his family, for failing at one grand scheme after another, and for draining his brother Theo's coffers year after year. In time, though, he committed to his calling as an artist. And we know him now as an artist with a unique point of view—a point of view that helps us see the world more fully and freshly.

Recent research even suggests that van Gogh, rather than taking his own life, died as a result of being shot accidentally by a young man. Rather than bring the young man into disgrace, Vincent claimed to have shot himself (even though the circumstances of his being shot contradicted his claim in several important ways).* In other words, Vincent was sane and compassionate enough to value someone else's life over his own.

Lessons from Vincent?

Van Gogh's life reinforces several lessons for us as storytellers and writers:

  1. We all thrive on appropriate support and connection;

  2. Committing to our art both demands much of us and gives much to us;

  3. It is in our nature to want the support of others and companionship in our art;

  4. It is also in our nature to take big chances, to take on daring or demanding projects, and to hope to leave the world with a deep sense of who we are: of how we experienced this beautiful, demanding, mixed-up planet.

If van Gogh was able to leave his artistic mark on the world in spite of the crippling obstacles placed in his way, then we—who, in many cases, face much less daunting obstacles—can:

  • Let our voices be heard, in whatever formats suit us;

  • Face down the predictable obstacles of a society that values compliant workers over original thinkers of all kinds;

  • Get the support we need, to be our full selves—including through mutual-support relationships with our fellow artists.

In short, we can claim our nature both as artists and as people surrounded by supportive friends!

*For a more convincing account of how van Gogh actually died, see "Appendix: A Note on Vincent's Fatal Wounding," in Van Gogh: The Life, by Steven Naifeh and Gregory White Smith.