Tortured Artist, Concert Edition (AKA Lindsey Stirling's amazingness, explained)

So as you might know from our writing blog, I am a strong believer that being a tortured artist makes for great art. There's something about universal pain that strikes a deeper chord than universal happiness. Maybe it's because we're all naturally pessimists--or humans are better sympathizers than we are lead to believe. It's not always the case, but most art that captures me the most comes out of a difficult childhood, marriage, disorder, etc.

Because I have the tendency to never go out, like ever, I've made this observation through books. However, this summer I've tried this whole social life thing, and gone to more concerts than I ever have in my life (so, two). One was a Lindsey Stirling concert, the other, Justin Timberlake. Both were incredible--I'm not a die hard Justin fan, so this may have something to do with my observation. But there was something about Lindsey Stirling's concert that felt more personal, more connected with the audience. Justin Timberlake's show was a performance. He's a very clear cut star; he's been idolized for over a decade. Lindsey Stirling's show had all the qualities of a performance, but it was very clear that she never thought herself better than anyone--not her backup dancers, not her drummer, not her audience.

So what does this have to do with needing to struggle to produce great art?

This is the part where I give you all the background information you could ever need. If you know everything about Lindsey Stirling, feel free to skip this part. Go get a coffee while I rant about her greatness. I'll wait.

So basically, Lindsey Stirling was this normal girl who took violin lessons. She had more interests than her family could afford, so while she begged her parents for dance lessons, she could only pay for violin. She learned how to dance (and moonwalk!) through YouTube. Once she got good enough at violin, she started posting her videos to YouTube until it peaked the interest of America's Got Talent. Once she auditioned for the show and got it, everyone was all "oh my gosh, you're so amazing, a dancing violinist, that's so creative!"

Then she went on the show, performed in front of thousands of people, and Piers Morgan was all "actually, JK, you suck. No one likes you."

If that had been me up there, I would have curled up on stage, started crying, and never touched a violin again. In fact, I do that if someone tells me my hair looks funny.

But not only did she keep trying, she continued posting her videos while suffering through anorexia, and being told by multiple record companies that she would never make it.

And if she believed those record companies, she would never have the millions of fans, views, and shows she has now.

When I went to Lindsey Stirling's concert, I was astounded that she 1) wrote a song about suffering with anorexia, and 2) told everyone in the audience that this song was inspired by the fact that every day, she hated what she saw in the mirror. Eating disorders are incredibly difficult to face personally, but sharing that pain on stage in front of thousands of people is beyond brave and beautiful.

Hearing her explain the inspiration for each song turned the night from a performance into a story. And because each song was so personal, so driven from struggle, it removes the artist from a pedestal where she's unreachable, above her fans.

There's a fine line between performance and sharing one's art. With the uniting factor of struggle, of pushing past the breaking point, it was clear that Lindsey Stirling was sharing her story through her music.

Namaste.