I asked 40 artists about performance & mental health. Here’s what I found.

There is nothing like the feeling of singing, acting, dancing, playing an instrument, or working artistically in any fashion with other human beings. Any passionate performing artist will tell you that the sound of a live orchestra or choir is unsurpassable, that the experience of playing a role can be so immersive, it’s hard to believe it’s “just pretend,” and that the connections they have made through art have been some of the most fulfilling.

But, what does that feeling mean? What does it do for us on an emotional and psychological level? And now that live performance has taken a pause (or, in some cases, undergone dramatic change), how do we cope? I found myself wondering this throughout the past nine months, but I was still having trouble expressing it.

So I asked performing artists to anonymously share their thoughts on mental health with me.     

It turns out that many of them also had difficulty putting that “magic performance feeling” into tangible words. Some names used for this experience included: “adrenaline kick,” “fuel,” “the rush,” “the thrill,” and “the escape.” Reading these monikers may elicit an image of someone packing up and taking a spontaneous trip to Europe, or sharing a first kiss with the love of their life – but alas, it was used to explain the feeling of playing in a band or acting in a role.

One respondent wrote, “[Participating in the arts] engages, motivates, and socializes people in a way that we do not yet have the scientific understanding to describe. Science has shown that music has a benefit, but it's not even advanced enough to tell us the full extent.” Perhaps the reason that we find it so difficult to describe the performer bug is that it isn’t really a logical, concrete experience at all. It is the closest thing we have to the transcendent (which may be why it has been so utilized in faith-driven and religious practices).

Another surprising finding is how many of the respondents reported living with mental health disorders. Many have dealt with clinical depression, anxiety disorders, post-traumatic stress disorder, and eating disorders, among other mental health battles. While the stigmatization of mental illness may make us feel that these struggles are uncommon, that could not be further from the truth – particularly, it seems, among artists.

Overwhelmingly, there were two performing arts mental health benefits identified above the rest – 1) a community and 2) a healthy outlet of expression. 93% of respondents expressed finding these benefits in the performing arts. This makes sense. As reported by The National Alliance on Mental Illness, community is one of the primary ways that we care for our mental health. It provides us with the support of friends and neighbors who share the same values that we do, it establishes our sense of belonging, and it brings us together in the pursuit of a common goal.

Most importantly, it gives us purpose – a word that also came up again and again in responses. Many credited the performing arts with helping them to find their “identity” and their place in the community itself.

That being said, not all feelings toward the relationship of mental health and the performing arts were positive. For example, although a community can create an immense sense of purpose, support, and gratitude, it can also trigger perfectionism and a need for validation.

One respondent reported, “[I base] my worth in how wanted and needed I am by others. The pandemic has cut off that need to be needed.” Another confessed that the “rejection, criticism, and lack of opportunities” that abound in this industry has taken a toll on mental health. And another admitted, “Performing arts created such a perfectionist out of me. . .perfectionism took over many aspects of my life.”

The most puzzling aspect of this truth is that it is so contradictive to the positive findings. Not only did respondents cite a community and outlet of expression as benefits – 85% reported a better self-esteem, 75% reported courage, and 68% reported a healthy work ethic. Some even wrote in answers that did not appear in the initial options for the survey. Perhaps the most insightful of these was “a place to feel safe.” So how can this be? If the performing arts are so good for us, and bring us abundant benefits, why do they also influence us so negatively? How can a space be our absolute safest, and also the source of our distress?

A huge part of this is another reoccurring theme I found in responses – financial hardship. Many participants pointed out a devastating loss of income, reducing access to basic needs. Despite the consistent struggle to afford food, housing, and necessities, artists have been forced to continue putting out money to stay afloat artistically. “I personally spent a good portion of what I had left in my bank account auditioning this season, between accompanist fees, recording space, & videographer,” said one participant. “I spent more than I could afford in an attempt to have the best quality recordings possible, hoping to secure future work.”

Artists are often asked to take on a “starving artist” mentality, accepting that they must put their art above all else – even if it means diminishing physically, mentally, and emotionally. This acts simultaneously with the harmful mindsets of perfectionism and comparison. Another respondent confessed, “I get constant anxiety when I compare other artists who are given more opportunities, and it spirals into a place a of shame and guilt that I didn’t have more money or more resources to pursue certain things.”

So in reality, it’s not the actual art-making that creates mental health challenges. Music, theatre, dance – these are all gifts that, in their purest form, offer us nothing but self-love and compassion --- but the industry we have created and established is not conducive to that. These vehicles of expression invite us into communities, help us become our best selves, and make us braver and wiser and stronger. They urge us to lean into our intuition and our most truthful creative impulses.

But above that soothing voice in our heads that encourages us to explore our ideas and cultivate joy, there is the loud, resounding voice of perfectionism, economic hardship, and exhaustion, always quick to creep up. The industry has evolved in a way that is, quite plainly, a mockery of what true art really looks and feels like.

So what needs to happen now, if the goal is for artists to come back into the industry, mentally healthy and making their best art? Earlier this year, I wrote another piece, entitled “What the Heck Am I Supposed to Be Doing? and Other Artist Questions in Quarantine.” At the time, I pondered how artists would handle this “new normal”—whether it meant getting deep in the biz or just hitting “pause” and watching Netflix.

One route I imagined for this was virtual performance. However, despite the fact that 72% of respondents reported participating in virtual efforts -- only 32% reported actually enjoying it. While I personally do see the value of temporarily digitalizing performance, this does not seem to be the key solution for many people. For the first time, artists are being asked to…well….do other things.

The most popular reported coping strategy by far was exercise – many, many respondents reported a newfound love for yoga, pure barre, dance and/or even just taking a brisk walk. This was interesting, considering one participant referred to the performing arts as “the emotion equivalent of a terrific workout.” The performing arts create such a significant mental, emotional, and even physical response in our bodies, that the most effective way to recreate that feeling is to get our heartbeats pumping and our muscles working.

One respondent’s list included “giving myself permission to have more lazy days,” which was promptly followed by “working out.” I felt that this response was so profound. It really showed how important it is to have balance in our lives, allowing for both rest and action.

This brought another important question to my attention -- how often, in a non-pandemic world, are artists asked to forgo or sacrifice their physical health to meet the demands of “the grind”? Whether it’s commuting home from rehearsal at midnight, or waking up for an audition at 4am, or cancelling a yoga class to practice, we put immense pressure on ourselves to be “on” for the arts and “off” to everything else. Not to mention the fact that, for dance and theatre performers specifically, exercise is often done to maintain what is disgustingly referred to in the business as “the Broadway body.” This time of crisis has given us the opportunity to reflect on what it really means to value health and use exercise as a tool for stress relief, energy, and a healthy frame of mind.

There were two activities that tied for the second most popular coping strategy: 1) participating in other art disciplines, such as drawing, painting, and making crafts and 2) Facetiming/having distanced outdoor gatherings with friends. It is interesting to see that, even during the distress and turmoil of adjusting to a “new normal,” humans who love to make art in a community have turned to…making art and establishing a community. This was one of my most beautiful discoveries. The truth is that the “fuel” or “rush” per se of the performing arts lives inside each of us, and when our normal avenues of attaining that feeling do not exist, we simply adapt.

Other popular responses included reading, meditation, and seeking mental health treatment in the form of therapy and/or medication. Many mentioned “slowing down” and “being mindful.” The great majority of these responses had nothing to do with performance at all…and when they did, it was not usually a virtual performance that kept them going. One respondent wrote that “composing [and] playing more piano, without the intention of sharing it with people” was a great tool, and others mentioned watching recordings of theatre, listening to music, and learning a new instrument they hadn’t tried before. I realized, while reading these responses, that these respondents may feel that they are “taking a break” from art – when in reality, all of these methods of self-care are helping them to become better artists every day. What better way to become a better storyteller, than to read stories? What better way to healthily engage with our emotions and portray them in others with empathy, than to mediate? And what better way to create authentically than to create for yourself?

I would argue that anything you like to do, anything that makes you excited or even just relaxes you, can be a tool in art.

The impact of the performing arts on mental health is undeniable. Even though a handful of respondents shared negative experiences, 98% agreed that the arts have influenced their mental health in a positive way. And when asked from a scale of 1-5 how severely the shutdown has impacted their mental health, 92% rated their experience as a 3 or higher. Unfortunately, there is much about this situation that we cannot change. A virus does not understand that singing or playing with a large group people is our safe haven.

However, it is important to recognize how much we actually do have in our control. What if, when we came back, we put all of the wonderful, abundant gifts that inherently come with the arts, into practice? What if we put genuine effort into making this industry more accessible, more compassionate, more reflective of our extraordinary human experience? What if we built communities that supported us and gave us the freedom to make authentic, raw, and messy art? I envision an industry where we will not only embrace our courage to audition for a solo, but to ask for help when we really need it. This goes for any artist – professional, amateur, or otherwise.

If you can take anything from this: remember that you are not alone. Everything that you are feeling, whether this pause has improved or negatively impacted your mental health, is completely valid. And when we return, we will all work hard to experience that “adrenaline kick,” “fuel,” “rush,” “thrill,” and “escape,” together, in our healthiest frame of mind.