Temperate Melancholy

I believe creativity and intense feelings can fuel each other, but they don’t seem to coexist in the same moment. And for me, melancholy is like a resting point, either before or after creativity. Let me explain.

To me, being an artist is, at its core, a narcissistic act. You create something, assign yourself a role, and assume that role is important enough to share with the world. It takes a lot of audacity to do that, and no external force can fuel this ambition, it has to come from within. But no external force can check this narcissism either. No one can stop it, and they shouldn’t. If you lose it, you lose your motivation. If you lose your motivation, you are dead as an artist.

So, having an ego isn’t just “okay”, it’s part of the process. I see it as a shield to protect your creation, but of course, not a sword to hurt others. And to avoid turning it into a weapon, sometimes we need to dial it back. We have to lower our ego to a more manageable level just to get by in the everyday world. That’s where melancholy comes in for me as an antidote to the creative ego. It helps me transition from feeling like a “Greek god” back to just being a regular person again. After pouring myself into my work, melancholy pulls me back down to earth and makes me humble.

I have learned to welcome those melancholic moments, they are part of the cycle. After feeling a bit bruised, I eventually find my way back to normal, and then, over time, I become ready to create again. And this cycle just keeps going.

Now, let me tell you about a few artists who have kept me company during these melancholic periods.

Matt Elliot

Matt Elliot is an artist you need to approach with care, or you might end up getting lost in the gloom. His music is a mix of folk and experimental sounds, with emotional and storytelling lyrics. He mostly uses acoustic instruments such as the guitar, and sometimes blends soundscapes into his music to create a gloomy atmosphere.

Listen to a live performance from him here.

And here is one of my favorite pieces by him: The Sinking Ship Song, a musical experience of a sinking ship.

Anouar Brahem

Anouar Brahem’s melodies aren’t just sad, they are like a mystical voyage. His music transports you to a world full of imaginary characters where you can release your troubles, like having a conversation with an Eastern sage.

Here is a live performance from him: The Astounding Eyes of Rita

Hermanos Gutierrez

These guitar brothers play like the soundtrack to a melancholic Western film. To me, it’s the sound of sadness meeting solitude, feels like trying to fix loneliness with more loneliness.

You can listen to a live performance here.

And here is one of my favorite pieces from them: El Jardin

Theo Angelopoulos & Eleni Karaindrou

When we think of Greece, we usually imagine hot summer scenes. But Greek director Theo Angelopoulos shows us another side of the country, filled with melancholy and mystery. He always shot his scenes in overcast weather, never under a clear sky. And, his long takes paired with Eleni Karaindrou’s music create a blend of theatrical and cinematic melancholy. Every scene feels like a step into a world of deep, epic, and reflective sadness.

Here is a scene from my favorite film by him, Ulysses’ Gaze (1995).

And here is one of my favorite Karaindrou’s soundtracks: Waltz of the Bride

Bwla Tarr & Mihaly Vig

Bela Tarr is my dark hero. But his films don’t make me feel sad about myself, instead, they turn my gaze toward the sadness of his characters. I don’t experience melancholy firsthand: I observe it. I explore the sorrow from a distance. And, the music of Mihaly Vig is part of this experience; it’s almost inseparable from the films. Together, they form a complete piece.

Here is a scene from Tarr’s masterpiece Satantango (1994), accompanied by Mihaly Vig’s music.

And here are a few more favorites to round off this sense of melancholy: Cesare Pavese’s diaries, Van Gogh’s letters, Emil Cioran’s aphorisms, Andrew Wyeth’s paintings, and Gregory Crewdson’s photographs.