20th July was a depressing day for a majority of people worldwide. Chester Bennington, the lead singer of the band Linkin Park had committed suicide at the age of 41, leaving behind six children.
Death doesn’t affect me. It didn’t before and I doubt it will do now. But this time it has me questioning something. Who saves the savior? Linkin Park was the band I would listen to as a teenager when all my hormones were playing up and I thought that I was experiencing the end of my world as I knew it. On more than one occasion Linkin Park had brought me back from the throes of chaos and gave some sort of semblance of peace to my life.
To be honest, it wasn’t just Linkin Park that brought me back to my senses. Soundgarden, Nirvana, Winehouse, Robin Williams were a few others who I’d go running to. I thought I knew these folks. Apparently not.
What baffled me most was the fact that their art couldn’t save them. What good is my work if I can’t turn to it in my desperation? Or is that how art works in the end anyway? Maybe you need to be an artist who knows when and how to distance himself from his art. To keep his art and himself separate, that even in your most distressing times, you can’t turn to it to save you. I do not know how art works. Neither do I claim to know how artists work. All I do know is one thing that I’ve been taught since I was a kid “Perform your duty with detachment.” I guess I am still struggling to wrap my head around this.
There’s another thing that amused me a little. People who are so attached to an artist that they are completely and utterly distraught at the news of their death. It’s probably normal and hence I wouldn’t dare make fun of it, but I definitely was amused. How does someone claim to know an artist because they know their work? I feel that such a statement is a dangerous one to make. This kind of attachment leads to senseless worship.
I wasn’t wrong when I realized that the youth, people my age, we tend to find Gods in the most decrepit places and in the random-est of people.