Dmitry Gorchev. Search Destination (№ 230293)

Zhytynsky sometimes likes to talk about the fact that creativity, sorry for the word Artist (singer, composer, poet, does not matter) cannot be considered in isolation from his life, or calling things by their names, death. Well, roughly speaking, the poems of Pushkin would not be worse if he was not killed in a duel, but hardly anyone would remember still, just as few remember the verse of Zhukovsky, Baratynsky or Puppeteer.
I think he's right. The reader (viewer) likes to look at the last page and learn that the author quite honestly hanged, shot or jumped naked in his cage. That is, all that he wrote, drew, sang - all of it was true. The reader is nice to know that Gogol had gone mad, and Leo Tolstoy died at an obscure station that Venya Erofeev honestly died of cancer of the throat, and Oleg Grigoriev - from cirrhosis of the liver. A true artist must die on the stage, the singer should give the latest rooster and crash down the hall, Choi had to die young, and Cobain to die by overdose, then all the truth, for real. Because it's right.