Dylan Thomas – The Curse of the Myth of the Artist.

Dylan Thomas was a British poet as known for his precisely obscure poetry as for his drunk, womanising behavior. October 27th would have been his 100th birthday, and I posit that it is time we laid to rest the myth of the artist and start appreciating Thomas for who he truly was, namely a hard-working poet who liked the odd half-pint.

The author of such works of literary genius as Do Not Go Gentle, and Poem On His Birthday is tragically never mentioned without allusions to hedonism and reckless behavior.

Born in Swansea on the 27th of October 1914; to his domineering schoolteacher and seamstress mother. As a child he was sickly and small, wearing clothes far too large for his slender frame.

He left school at 16 and began a relatively short-lived career as a journalist, whilst also incessantly writing poetry.

From a very early age Thomas was ambitious in his goals and driven in his attitude. Craving to be the most revered Welsh poet, he would sometimes write 200 versions of the same poem and spend days laboring over a single word.

This is clearly incongruous to the drunken poet often spoken about by the tabloids.

Traditionally Thomas is portrayed as a drunk, who mumbled out lines of verse in between whiskey and women; a myth that is only partially true. Not only is this myth greatly exaggerated, it misrepresents how methodical and labored was his work.

Stories of affairs, womanising and drunk behavior are plenty, and indeed some are true, but this fixation upon the character of an artist can often detract from the work. An unhealthy obsession with someone’s character can also put pressure on the subject of the gossip to act in accordance with the public’s expectations.

It has been documented that Thomas knew of the public's preconceived expectations of his character, and he felt the need to live up to them, often acting out in public as not to disappoint. This was a process that Thomas found exhausting, and ultimately, misrepresentative.

Many of these tales of debauchery came from his wife Caitlin, whom was perhaps the true alcoholic in the relationship. Supposedly jealous of her husband’s celebrity and his reported infidelities, Caitlin would tell many conflicting stories about him. Sometimes she agreed with the theories of his drunkenness and womanising, and sometimes she discredited them. Clearly not the most credible source.

This belief that an artist has to be some profoundly tortured soul drinking himself to death whilst channeling something from out of the ether must cease. It both serves to nullify work by those who aren't as the myth describes, and promotes some to live up to a character that isn't truly representative, with often-harmful effects.

It is not true that Van Gogh never sold a painting, but as they say, always print the legend…

Thomas reportedly claimed to have imbibed “eighteen straight whiskeys” hours before his death, which many took for the cause of his premature oblivion. Thomas’s doctor fallaciously diagnosed this as delirium tremens and administered three fatal doses of morphine.

Medical neglect was the cause of his death, combined with bronchitis, pneumonia, and other contributing factors (including a fatty liver). It was certainly not, alcohism that finished him off, as his liver showed no signs of cirrhosis.

Dylan's forced masquerade is tragic because it means that he felt that he had to live up to a false legend, and it is tragic because it is something that colours how we read his poetry. It is tragic because it is something that many still believe today, and it is tragic because some who believe the myth would alter their appreciation of his genius were they to learn of his true persona.

Taken out of context, an artwork cannot be appreciated to its full potential. When misrepresenting the life and character of a poet to create a more exciting headline the entire work is taken out of context, forever, for those who believe the twisted cut-and-paste version of the truth.

Dylan Thomas had a love of alcohol, but first and foremost he was a poet the likes of which is seldom seen. To define a man by his vices is to ignore his virtues.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night (1947)

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.