…But can I say the same for the person the song is written about? Who am I to decide to release a song that discussed in detail the downfall of our relationship? – Calling them out through metaphor and imagery, drawing from the feelings I experienced both before them and during them, is it fair for my art, which they can’t control, to potentially affect their reputation? Is it just for this cruelty to be forgiven in the name of art? (Bell, 2018)

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I will never stop creating music, so naturally I aspire to make it my career – but since it’s a therapeutic art form, releasing said music becomes a dilemma. I occasionally ponder the cost of my ambition and whether a career in the creative industries is worth perusing if my work may hurt others in the process. I like saying my goal is to say the words others are too scared to say and to

comfort those who have gone through similar issues - but is the chance of a stranger finding joy in relatability all one big excuse to be selfish? Does therapeutic art have a place in professional creative contexts?​

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The question is it healthy for the artist? is commonly discussed when deeply personal artwork is presented. A study conducted with NYU drama therapy students questioned therapeutic theatre’s place onstage, looking into its contribution to healing and the challenges when working with deeply personal topics in an intersubjective space. A student’s reflection from the study revealed she would frequently “avoid engagement with the rawness of the material” before discovering the comfort and empowerment that came with bringing to life the feelings about herself through her character (Hodermarska et al., 2015, pg. 6).

Although this project did involve re-opening emotional wounds for the student, which can be harmful if it is done without care, this process took place in a safe, supportive environment that fostered healing; something I cannot say about my process.

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When recording ‘Pinkie Swear’, I would often breakdown. I would have to take breaks from the song entirely for several months before continuing because I would push myself to my limit time and time again. I once believed constantly reliving my trauma would help me create the best version of the song, but if anything my lack of care just postponed the release date. If this is what I intend to do for the rest of my life, I will create more harm than good. I intend to improve my artistic process by noting the date in which I work on a piece, acting as a visual diary for me to see the progress I have made both emotionally and creatively. This will encourage me to be less critical on myself, fostering a safe environment for my creativity to thrive and for mistakes to be made without fixating on them (Sullivan, 2018). Dr. Ursano also suggests working on multiple projects at a time, ensuring I do not hyper fixate on one, and consequently, the upsetting experience it was inspired by. Taking your mind off a main project by working on another allows the artist to feel more control (Sullivan, 2018).

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But although my emotions will no longer consume me when creating work, my art will always be inherently painful. – but pain when creating art, does not mean the artwork is not worth making. In fact, I would argue the opposite. To quote Aristotle,

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"Music directly imitates the passions or states of the soul...when one listens to music that imitates a certain passion, he becomes imbued with the same passion." (Aristotle, 335 C.E./2013)

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Art is about sharing human connection and celebrating the deeply complex emotional turmoil that is a part of life and, “Human vulnerability, our own or other people’s, draws us closer to one another” (Grainger, 2013, p. 163)

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Much like the theory that all good deeds are done out of personal gain (Wilson, 1993), I thrive creating deeply personal art for other people like me to find catharsis in, but ultimately the art was created for me to heal first and foremost - But does it make me a selfish person to release it?  I like telling myself, it’s the intention behind the song that matters. The lyrics to ‘Pinkie Swear’

were words I never got to say, so subconsciously I always wanted the intended listener to finally hear them, and originally that was the key reason I wanted to release the song in the first place. The fear of not getting the project done in time for them to “still care” played on my mind for years, forcing me to mature and change my perspective on what I classified as validation for my art and reflect on this malicious intention disguised as my artistic right.

 

After all, art should never be created as a weapon, it should be presented as a bundle of roses, sprouting thorns that have the potential hurt those who choose to hold them, but I should not force them into someone’s hands. I have made peace with the fact every new bundle of roses I pick, and present will hurt me at first, reopening wounds and leaving visible scares for others to see - but I know the wounds will heal, and I strongly believe the beauty of the collection I create for others to joyfully smell with me, will always be worth it.

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But no matter how many pretty metaphors I use, no matter how many precautions I take, pronoun switches and context re-shuffling I do, I cannot deny that the defamation risk and cruelty from my art remains. It always will. To quote The Art’s Law Centre of Australia: “The intention of the publisher does not matter” the liability for defamation still poses a threat. (Arts Law Centre of Australia, 2023). Although, if all artists stopped being selfish in this way, the world would be void of art that connects people. I would encourage artists, including myself, to prioritise their safety and consider not only the legal outcomes, but the social and emotional costs they will make in the name of artistic ambition. Ultimately, I do believe therapeutic art has a right to exist in professional creative contexts as it serves a positive purpose, it just comes with risk.​​