Both Are Possible

Several years ago, an audience member came up to me after a concert and told me, “You seem to be too normal to be able to perform in the way you do.”

I was taken aback by what he had just said. “What do you mean?”

He continued. “You know, all great artists have some mental issues. Those amazing artists are a little different from us. You seem to be too positive.”

I didn’t say much then, but his comments lingered with me for a while.

Is being tortured a necessary ingredient for an artist to be amazing?

Last week, I came across a beautifully written article by the pianist Jonathan Biss in The New York Times, The Myth of the Mad Artist Is Harmful. I Should Know. He talked about how society has fantasized a myth that renders the artist simultaneously superhuman and less than fully human: they have no control over their impulses. They know how to tame lions or conjure infinity; they cannot be expected to know how to tie their shoelaces. They are totally at home in the world of art; they are utterly out of place in the actual world.

Yes, there are many cases of great artists in history who were terrific at what they did in their art, yet also suffered from mental illness. I am sure you could name a few. Robert Schumann, for example, is one of my favorite composers. He suffered from a severe mental illness and ended up being institutionalized at the end of his life.

Does this make his music any more great or less great? Is his mental illness relevant to appreciating the beauty in his music?

Whenever I teach or talk about performance anxiety with my students, most of them are surprised (or relieved) to hear that I, too, have those jittery nerves before the performance. Of course! We all do! Many famous performing artists have many stories in which they had to be kicked off the stage by their managers, as they felt too nervous to perform.

We like curtains in front of artists, making them more mysterious. Then, at the same time, we don’t like curtains. It blocks us from seeing them.

We idolize artists and think they are perfect at what they do. Then, we end up discouraging them from being honest with themselves about many mental issues.

This often results in unhealthy relationships between artists and people and with themselves.

Over the years, I have developed a theory that works for me as a person and as a pianist: having a healthy mindset equals a happy individual. In the end, healthy, balanced musicians connect better with the music and the audience.

Yes, plenty of artists out there might not have a balanced life, yet they are amazing at what they do. Maybe there is little or no connection between who they are and what they do, but “I” have striven to find a life that is balanced with positivity. I don’t believe that being tortured is a condition for being great at what we do.

We all have struggles in life that make us stronger and, ultimately, make us appreciate life better. On the contrary, having an obnoxiously unhealthy mind and complete disconnection from the real world doesn’t help anyone.

As a fellow human being, I sincerely hope that we all find our way out of misery. I don’t believe having a mental issue and isolating one’s self in that realm is the only way to express art in the way that certain artists do. Being a balanced person doesn’t mean they lose the passion of how they connect with their particular art form.

We can encourage artists to talk openly about their troubles and struggles, as well as ours, and help each other find a peaceful place without shutting down when it comes to such issues.

Being on a stage means that one needs to endure the tremendous pressure of the spotlight from outside and within. Music requires the utmost transparency. When music opens the door to the divine world, we escape to another world through that openness. How can one not lose oneself in order to be fully in that moment?

However, there is a distinction between musicians taking audiences on the journey and musicians making audiences observe their flights from a distance. It is just a difference in style from musician to musician. Often, many musicians leave the audience behind, making it easier to deal with the pressure on the stage. To me, taking a journey with an audience is always more satisfying and healthier, no matter how hard it may be.

I believe, just like with a dream, that there is a time to wake up. Anyone in that divine world gets out of the dreamy stage, goes outside in the morning, walks around the neighborhood, chats with strangers about little things, enjoys croissants and cappuccino over good company in the café, and just performs as a human.

My wish is not to lose that balance as a musician. No matter how amazing it may be in the musical world, I want to keep my foot in the real world and enjoy the small, mundane life of being just Jeeyoon.

No, I don’t believe that being a tortured artist is a necessary ingredient to greatness.

Instead, I believe that being open and connected as a healthy individual is a necessary ingredient to one’s happiness on or off the stage. I would always choose to be content first and find my way to express music from there.

To me, both are possible, and life is always better that way.