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Although it is true that for the artist there can be an irresistible pull inward, away from external objects, and toward seclusion, this pull from within is generally a limited phenomenon. It is felt as an internal cry to return to that state of concentration from which the inner world can be free to come alive, and to flow forth on canvas or paper. The craving for this state can be intense, and when deprived of it, the artist can feel blocked, suffocated, clogged up, or affectively starved—in the way that a drug addict might feel when deprived of a drug. Yet, the artist's need to withdraw into the inner world generally culminates in a period of concentrated work in imaginative cognition which has its own climax and denouement. Following these periods, there is a sense of deep fulfillment that enables the artist to reconnect with the world of external others.
When we look at the life of Emily Dickinson, we can see a withdrawal that goes far beyond that of the average artist. She created a total captivity in her own seclusion.
By the time Emily Dickinson was thirty years old she had withdrawn from all social engagment with the world. She no longer went to church. She no longer attended the yearly commencement exercises for Amherst College, even though they were held in the living room of her home since her father was the college's treasurer. Dickinson's withdrawal had actually begun over a decade earlier when she had returned home from her first year at Mount Holyoke College. According to John Cody's psychobiography of Dickinson, After Great Pain (1971), the poet responded to a strong undercurrent of distress from her father when she decided she was too ill to