Head Radio: Mental Health as an Artist.

My quick doodle of a 'Hong Kong Scream' with apologies to Edvard Munch

It’s quite ironic. Art can be a therapeutic outlet, helping individuals express and process their emotions. Yet today, I find myself grappling with the stresses and mental strains of pursuing art as a profession, rather than simply a casual hobby. This journey is proving to be incredibly challenging, and the act of creating art can often feel daunting.

As I pondered my next art piece, I considered doing a quick sketch to satisfy my creative itch and appease the hungry algorithms of social media. Feeling the need to keep up with my peers and ‘post’ something to my followers is an added strain that I did not fully anticipate when I first started this chapter of my life.   However, I feel compelled to take a moment and write this blog post instead, hoping that by articulating my thoughts on a difficult subject, I might both help myself cope and connect with others facing similar challenges.

Lately, I’ve been waking up each morning with a recurring nightmare and feelings of dread. While the details fade quickly, the lingering feelings of angst and anxiety stay with me throughout the day. To practice self-care, I’m trying to articulate the intrusive thoughts that often arise while I paint that seem linked to my subconscious and often bubble up as both unsettling dreams and unexpected mind meanders. I wonder whether the stress I’m feeling stems from my current career path as an artist or if it’s a constant I’ve always faced, regardless of my profession.  Could it be that I am just facing more challenges at this point in time compared to any other?

I’ve coined a term to describe a phenomenon I experience while painting: I call it “Head Radio.” (Not to be confused with the cool rock band Radio Head).  Sometimes, when I am painting and feeling relaxed, my mind begins to wander and It feels as if my brain is picking up radio frequencies—either from outside or from distant memories. Interestingly, this doesn’t happen when I sketch outdoors; the distractions in my environment keep my mind engaged, which is probably why I crave outdoor painting sessions so as to give me some reprieve from the ‘head chatter’.

Working in my studio (which is what I affectionately call my dining table) presents its own challenges. The calm quiet environment often allows buried memories to resurface unexpectedly, triggering intense feelings of regret, anger, or pain. This can be incredibly distracting, breaking my concentration and interfering with my workflow. I’m uncertain whether this is a byproduct of my current artistic journey or if I would face similar stresses in any profession.

When I meet fellow artists, I often ask how they navigate the challenges of making ends meet in what can be a deeply isolating field. It’s not easy to delve into meaningful discussions about mental health with acquaintances, but I genuinely want to hear their experiences.  Am I alone in experiencing these thoughts? Or does everyone have them? 

Without going into too much detail about my nightmares, I can say they’re often linked to my previous work life before COVID, which ended abruptly due to redundancies and corporate turmoil. After being laid off twice and then facing the isolation of the pandemic, I can’t help but feel these experiences contribute to my current mental state. Coupled with the usual stresses of adult life, it feels like I’m carrying excess mental baggage.

Being an artist can be lonely and isolating. The solitary nature of creating art often means long hours spent in silence, and concentrated focus,  a stark contrast to the bustling office environment I once knew. This shift may contribute to the mental strains I face. The irony is that while I enjoy the act of painting and drawing, the time spent creating can also amplify my internal struggles.

“Head Radio” isn’t something I can consciously control.  I don’t know why I may suddenly think of something that happened in my childhood one moment, and then suddenly think of a stressful work situation the next.  It’s not as if I don’t have anything more productive to do at that particular moment.  Hence, I try to distract myself with music or podcasts, or I might even vocalize my frustrations to stay focused, which can lead to some profantity laden outbursts (Apologies to my neighbours!) .

In a previous blog post, I touched on the connection between creativity and mental health, referencing famous artists like Vincent van Gogh and Pablo Picasso, whose lives often exemplify the romanticized notion of the “tortured artist.”  It is still debated if creativity is more prevalent in people suffering from mental instability.  One argument suggesting that it is this very instability that allows such induvial to make new connections from un-associated thoughts and influences.

While I’m not a psychologist, nor do I claim to be an artistic genius, my experiences suggest that this notion may hold some truth, as sometimes a ‘mad thought’ can result in a very creative result, but more often than not my work is carefully guided and crafted by an end goal rather than being a spontaneous experiment. My current journey feels like an uphill struggle against very real difficulties, perhaps exacerbated by the challenges of building a career in a notoriously difficult field that is still relatively new to me.

It’s not merely about being a “mad artist”; it feels like my mental baggage is intensified by the demands of the creative process.  I don't think I have a history of mental illness but like most people I do have a history of mental stress with all the different difficulties that life throws ones way and all the mental baggage that we seem to accumulate.

During my time as a product designer, I worked within defined parameters, guided by a design brief. This provided structure and focus. Art, on the other hand, is limitless, subjective and open to interpretation. This is likely why I gravitate towards realism in my work; as it offers a more clear objective. However, I have since experienced the added allure with which mood and lighting can evoke emotional connections that transcend mere representation, adding layers of complexity to my creative process and a search for a ‘super reality’ of a scene that is above and beyond making something look real. This is something that I've come to appreciate and understand as I've been developing my style.  Yes, I strive to capture the reality of a scene, but more and more I try to find the emotional reality of a scene too and what it means to me.  Perhaps this opening up of ones senses and sensitivities can also lead to more potential stress, as one takes on more emotional stimulation and input.

'Invisible Man' - ball point pen sketch

I acknowledge that I might be focusing too much on the negative aspects of being an artist. The feelings of joy, self-fulfilment, and connection with my audience are equally significant. Especially when I ride the wave of inspiration that can power me through even the darkest of days, and I mean that quite literally when it comes to the Hong Kong summer! Trust me.  Summer time in the tropics can get quite grim and murky.

On the plus side of the emotional equation, hearing from those who connect with my art brings me immense satisfaction and makes the effort worthwhile.  This is why I enjoy delivering artwork to customers in person as well as hosting my pop up market stall.  Yes, the sales are obviously nice, but hearing more from the person actually buying my art and understanding what it means to them feels like I am recharging my motivation batteries. After hours spent alone, sometimes it's good to make a human connection however brief.

So, how can we, as artists, maintain our mental health in this challenging career that often doesn’t pay well and takes a lot out of us emotionally? One answer is to engage more deeply with our communities and cultivate other interests outside of art. Building friendships, fostering social interactions, and sharing hobbies with others can enrich our lives. 

I think it's important also to take a time out and to look back at how far one has come on their artistic journey to date. Recently I had something pop up on my social feed about the various events that occured during my previous year. And I realised how busy I've been these past 12 months and all the interesting events I've attended and people I've met and conversations I've had. And I think that is something that's worth celebrating and also something that can be quite reassuring. It doesn't solve all of my problems or ills, but it does give myself a gentle pat on the back which can be quite needed at times.

This is something that I did mention to another Artist going through similar struggles as myself.  In the corporate world, it is well recognised by human resource teams that financial incentives are not the best way to engage and motivate employees.  Instead, what is most sort after by workers is the feeling that what they are doing matters and that they are making a positive contribution.  Also, people naturally feel the need to know that they are improving at a task and gain more recognition for doing ‘good work’.

As artists, we often miss out on these ‘add-a-boy!’ moments. There are no annual appraisals, no end of year bonuses for our efforts, and no office Christmas parties to attend.  Usually we are working for ourselves, and there is no one around to compliment and encourage us.  Which is probably why we feel drawn to social media with its instant gratification and mini dopamine hits of ‘likes’ and ‘follows’.  This also makes us sitting ducks for those wanting to exploite and profit from our desire for self-promotion and connection by offering so called ‘paid editorials’, or an entrance fee to join vanity exhibitions and other art scams.  It is often difficult to know as self-employed small business owners which collaborations will lead to genuine positive results and which ones are just monetizing our desperation.

I find solace in being part of a choir and an acapella group; these social activities provide a welcome distraction from daily stresses. Listening to others share their own personal struggles in feilds completly unrelated to my own, reminds me that I’m not alone and helps put things more into perspective. "Everyone hurts, sometimes" as the R.E.M. song goes. Plus, being the helping hand for others and assisting them navigate their own emotional turmoil can be incredibly therapeutic.  'To give is to receive' as they say.

I once advocated for the ‘Movember’ movement, which promotes men’s physical and mental health. Since it is well noted that men in particular have a reluctance to share their feelings especially when it comes to potentially embarrassing medical issues. We are raised in a culture where we are expected to 'Man Up' or 'Keep a stiff upper lip' and 'Rub some dirt into it'. However, my participation with 'Movember' waned during the pandemic as daily challenges took precedence. Now, I see the need to continue this kind of outreach, and perhaps this blog can be used as a channel to reconnect with others and offer support.

Whether you’re a casual reader, a follower of my artwork, or a fellow artist, I appreciate your time in reading this article and I invite you to share your thoughts and experiences in the comments below.

Wishing you all a happy and healthy future.

Best wishes, 

Richard Crosbie 

August 2025

My Choir Group - A great way to help with stress