Paper Galleries

In the last week, there has been a lot of talk surrounding the release of Olivia Rodrigo’s third album, You Seem Pretty Sad For A Girl So In Love, and the melancholy so prominent in her recounting of a supposedly happy relationship. Even the so-called love songs on the first half of the album are tinged with an anxiety that colours the listener’s perception of the positive aspects of her experiences, leaving us with an overwhelming feeling of pain that makes the entire album so powerful.

This exploration of pain is not only popular in music, but is part of a larger subject matter that countless visual artists have long delved into as well. In fact, when you think of some of the most famous and successful artists and artworks from the modern European canon, many seem to be governed by feelings of inner turmoil. Francis Bacon’s portraits are contorted in their agony, Tracey Emin’s violently scribbled figures convey her torment, and the saturated palette of Edvard Munch’s The Scream (1893) imparts a haunting sense of anguish. Vincent Van Gogh is famously known as the tortured artist who cut off his ear in a moment of despair, and after spending time in hospital following this mental breakdown, he painted one of his most vulnerable works, Self-Portrait with Bandaged Ear (1889), where he came face to face with his act of self-harm. Audiences continue to be moved by the honesty of his self-expression. Such a candid depiction of pain is similarly used in Frida Kahlo’s self-portraiture, where audiences have empathised with her frank rendering of the physical and mental suffering that she endured throughout
her lifetime.

So why is it that pain is such a dominant feature of art? And why do audiences respond to it so much?

Although positive feelings of joy, contentment or ecstasy form part of the language of human experience, pain is an especially unifying phenomenon given the vulnerability required to share these feelings with others. The honesty it takes to express these challenging emotions with ourselves and others can be strengthening. Since it is such an inevitable part of the human experience, it is crucial for us to find ways to cope with these emotions, and art seems to be an
especially cathartic way of exploring and overcoming these all-consuming feelings. Often the emotions we feel are too complicated to express verbally or can even become trapped in the body; the only way to release them is through the physical act of creation, whatever form that may take.
Whilst suffering can stem from deeply personal circumstances, the feelings of pain that arise are universal, understood by all species, humans and animals alike. Although happiness and pleasure are also universal, pain is a difficult emotion to experience, so it is a great source of comfort knowing that others have felt this way too. Hearing about, or even seeing, other people’s experiences of suffering reminds us that we are not alone in feeling pain and can give us the strength to persevere in the face of adversity. Works of art that explore such emotions are moving and connect us through their vulnerable exploration of challenging emotions

The power of art to deal with pain has been addressed by renowned conceptual artist Yayoi Kusama, who explained that the only way she relieves her pain and anxiety is through creating art. In 2023, the National Library of Medicine, found that art therapy of various forms can elicit beneficial effects on patients’ management of chronic pain and stress. Clearly, art can be a healing way to grapple with difficult emotions and experiences; this is certainly true of Frida Kahlo, who spent her life painting self-portraits that uncover the depth of both her physical and mental suffering. Whilst she largely relied on symbolism to reflect the anguish of her experiences, Frida confronted the long-lasting turmoil of a traumatic tram accident quite directly in The Broken Column (1944). Here, her nude torso is split with a fractured metal column in place of her spine, nails piercing her bare flesh, tears streaming down her face and a hospital sheet wrapping around her lower body. A white corset holds her body in place, reminding the audience of both the physical and social restrictions she faced at the time. Frida’s figure is set against a barren, cracked landscape, echoing her broken torso, and also reflecting her feelings of isolation.
Painted just after a spinal surgery in 1944, her inner strife is on display here. As the audience, we feel sympathy and are moved by the intimate insight into her struggles. Not many will have experienced this specific pain, but the portrait speaks to the wider feelings of loneliness and hurt that many can relate to. Often what people crave is to feel both understood and similar to others, particularly when experiencing more unpleasant emotions, and art is a powerful tool for enabling this. It is a mode of translation that can decode our most unbearable emotions, a way to help us process and recover from painful experiences and, in doing so, exists as a source of unity and healing.

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Edited by Jayden Jin and Milly Howes

Cover Image: Vincent van Gogh, Self-Portrait with Bandaged Ear, 1889, from: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Self-Portrait_with_Bandaged_Ear