"Do you ever have a dark thought? Like 'what if I licked a urinal'?" So begins a particular bit by Maria Bamford, one of my favorite stand-up comedians. It's a very personal joke about intrusive thoughts taken to their extreme, and is standard fare for her unflinchingly honest comedy. A similar joke of hers involves singing her anxieties in order to cope with them: ""If I keep my ice cube trays filled, it'll be okay! As long as I clench my fists at odd intervals, the darknesses within me won't force me to do things I don't want to do that are inappropriately violent...They can't get you if you're singing a song!" Listening to an artist that I admired joke openly and honestly about mental illness brought a new meaning to the phrase "it's funny because it's true". Listening to these bits, and others like them, sparked a rapid fire of internal questions that eventually led me right to a doctor's office. Yes, a joke about licking a urinal resulted in me finally receiving an OCD diagnosis after 19 years of suffering and confusion.
I imagine that almost anyone who consumes art regularly has had the same experience. Not that they relate to the fear of licking a urinal necessarily, but that they have stumbled across another person's art that touches on something genuine and touches a part of them in turn. Maria Bamford is just one artist of many who has permitted herself to be fully represented in her work. In between jokes about periods and her eccentric mother, comedian and actress Margaret Cho has made poignant observations surrounding her struggles with sexuality, body image, and a serious eating disorder. In fact, her calling card as a performer is her unapologetic nature, and she has inspired thousands of people to be just as bold. Famous essayist David Sedaris picks apart his neuroses, addictions, and childhood traumas on an international scale, through an accessible lens of dry humor. By airing out his emotional dirty laundry and daring to laugh, Sedaris gives his readers permission to do the same.
It sometimes seems like there is a dividing line between a person as an artist and a person as a human being, but when the art is sincere that dividing line disappears. It is this unity of "artist" and "human" that results in a devoted following, because their art resonates with the audience as individuals instead of an amorphous mass of fans. I hope that everyone who wants to create takes a lesson from these artists, and others like them: Without the rough edges and ugly spots scattered throughout your life, you would not be the person you are today. Don't be afraid to pour your unfiltered self into your work. The fear that your art will make someone uncomfortable should not outweigh the need to tell your story and speak your truth. For all of the people that it may alienate, there will be someone listening, reading, or watching and thinking "oh my God, I'm not alone". No matter what criticism the rawness of your work may receive, the gift you are giving to that person makes it all worthwhile.
