The Cost of Conformity

Ronald Gittins died in 2019 leaving behind a home filled with his art. Five years on, his flat in Birkenhead, walls covered in his work,  rooms crammed with sculptures and murals,  has been Grade II listed.

He lived there for three decades, left largely alone by landlords and agents, letting in only a handful of visitors. Enough of the right people came through at the right time to see that something extraordinary had been created, and to act so that his work would not be lost.

We don’t really know how Gittins lived, how he paid the rent, what his days looked like. What we do know is familiar: people like Ronald often find it hard even to live with themselves. They are compelled to make, driven more by necessity than choice. Very few ever produce work the market wants, but that's rarely their concern. For many, art is not about money at all.

He was of a generation that could find some support from the State. From the 1960s to the mid-90s, the benefits system in Britain acted as a basic income for many creative people. Writers, musicians, and artists who had little money but abundant time could develop their skills. Some went on to become successful; others simply kept producing in their own way.

Now, no one is permitted that freedom. Families demand respectability, schools shape expectations, cultures ridicule the urge to create unless it is monetised. Banksy was a vandal until his work began selling for millions. The lesson is clear: what you make has no value unless it sells, and if you need to feed your children that message is particularly maddening.

The consequences of forcing people into lives that don’t fit them are evident all around us. Some numb themselves, some break down, some end up in contact with the courts or psychiatric services. Many, many more live lives of bitterness and frustration, resenting others, abusing the smallest amounts of power, unable to tolerate those who remind them of what they cannot bear in themselves. Psychotherapy calls this projective identification: the parts of us that are disowned, are perceived and punished in others. None of us are immune.

You don’t need to be an artist to feel this. Anyone who senses that their life does not truly belong to them will feel the strain. Sometimes it’s obvious: the genius mathematician having to schmooze investors, the barrister whose real gift lies in care. Sometimes it is harder to recognise, buried under histories where attention was conditional on being constantly brilliant, caring for a parent, being unwell, or causing trouble.

People can succeed outwardly and still feel inwardly thwarted, and that dissonance leaves its mark on relationships, including with their children.

There are no simple solutions. Ronald Gittins had a convergence of circumstances that allowed him to keep going in his own way. He was prolific in solitude. For most of us, conformity is necessary. We learn our trade, earn a living, secure some stability. If we're fortunate, we can create enough space to pause, to ask why we are doing what we are doing, to wonder which pieces of our lives really belong to us.

Psychotherapy offers one of the rare places where that is still possible. A space to look at what compels us, what constrains us, and what might allow a life to feel more like our own.