One of my most memorable moments of 2015 was visiting the Picasso Museum in Paris for the first time in years. It blew me away. I'd forgotten how relentlessly raw and bleak his twisted vision of the world was. I emerged feeing slightly shaken and detached.
There is undoubtedly something appealing about the notion of the tortured genius. Living life on the edge, blindly chasing passions, even to the detriment of a healthily balanced life, reaching inspired levels of creativity that us mere mortals can only dream of. As well as the likes of Picasso and Van Gogh, we can see this in creations like Don Draper of Mad Men, characterised above all by dazzling flashes of inspiration. It makes his egotism and duplicity almost forgivable. The talent is part and parcel of a complex guy with a troubled childhood and unresolved trauma, right?