Prints

I’ve decided that I would like to make physical prints for the Editions Sale, if possible, and I have resolved to do a linocut, on the basis that I don’t have an etching press at home, and I probably won’t be able to make it in to CSM this month. I also want it to be something which is relevant to, and an extension of, my recent work.

I’ve not much experience of linocutting, but this is a good opportunity to try and improve my skills. I’ve been experimenting with some of the mapping imagery that I’ve been exploring over the last few months.

Originally I thought about the line drawing I did and how form can emerge from lines. I used my father’s silhouette from Solitude to experiment.

The lines are all over the place as I did them freehand (how does Bridget Riley manage?) and there were a few errors. In the top half I experimented with rounded curves, whilst in the bottom half the lines are flatter.

I tried drawing out how it might work but in the end I decided that it would just be too difficult, and gave up.

I then looked at the contouring and the automatic drawing that I have incorporated into some of my recent work. I used a group of three figures, composition yet to be decided, and red and blue as the colour choice for the time being. I created multiple layers in Procreate which then allowed me to play around with possible combinations.

I like the red and blue contoured background with the figures standing in front of the straight white lines (last two images), maybe using gold leaf or even metallic ink (which would be cheaper) to add some additional interest. I’ve also put the darker figure in the background so that it gives the feeling of being in the shadows, even though, technically, lighter figures are supposed to recede, which in this case they don’t seem to because of the background.

So I’m sorted, apart from the fact that it will need to be a reduction linocut, something which I haven’t done before, put off by the suspicion that my brain doesn’t work in a reductive way, but there’s nothing like a challenge. Maybe I need a Plan B, just in case.

Wondering About Wandering

It’s been almost 3 weeks since my tutorial with Jonathan, and even longer since my last blog post. I’m usually very good at writing tutorials up immediately afterwards, whilst I can still remember what we discussed. I don’t usually take notes – it’s too distracting.

Oh, how I wish I had taken notes, but I think that I can still remember the gist of it.

My clearest recollection is just how good it was to have a chat about something other than accidents, operations, hospitals and pain relief. On this subject Jonathan mentioned Late Night Ramblings, how at first glance it looks like a map but then when you look closer you realise that it doesn’t relate to anywhere. We talked about the methodology – what came first? I explained that I started off with the coloured lines, placed the dots at the intersections and then decided to add the contours and finally the grid – in retrospect I probably should have reversed the order as it was particularly difficult putting in the contour lines after the event – I couldn’t see the lines for the lines. We discussed the previous experiments which led to this point in particular the use of the photo of my father to create the outline of the figure, how the pose still retains its meaning, the angle of the shoulders and the head looking down, and how, because he reads my blog backwards from top to bottom, it only became apparent that the photo was the source of the outline once he had worked his way down. He also referred to What Was I Thinking? and my openness as to how I viewed my actions.

We talked about whether I would experiment with other media – I explained that I liked the flimsiness of the flip chart paper as it reminds me of the paper on which maps are produced and how I am interested in the idea of folding. Jonathan referenced how maps are folded, in a concertina, and how a piece of paper no matter what size it is can only be folded in half 7 times. Intrigued, I looked into this further after the tutorial finished. Generally, this is the case although in 2002, Britney Gallivan, a high school student in California, set a new world record by folding a piece of tissue paper 12 times, but it was 1.219km long. Funnily enough, whilst driving to Exeter yesterday morning to start and finish what my daughter was en route to do when she had her accident, clear out her room at uni, we had the pleasure of listening to Radio 2 when the Paddy McGuiness show came on, and listeners were invited to message in to explain how it can be true that if you fold a piece of paper 42 times it could reach the Moon? Did you know that you can only fold a piece of paper 7 times I asked my husband. Yes, you’ve already told me that, he replied. It’s a matter of exponential growth – if you assume that the thickness of a piece of paper is, say, 0.1mm, then when you fold it in half 42 times it will theoretically be 439,804km thick, approximately 55,000km in excess of the distance between the Earth and the Moon, the same kind of principle as in A Bird In The Hand.

I mentioned that I was thinking of creating a ‘map’ which would embody all that I have learnt over the course, and have been toying with experimenting with canvas, how I would need to think about image transfer etc. Jonathan mentioned Citrasolv which works really well on laser print, especially high quality print such as National Geographic. After the tutorial I watched a few YouTube videos, ordered some and have had to wait a couple of weeks for its arrival, this Thursday.

We then discussed Raita Bitless, and how Jonathan felt that there are some very important elements which are emerging and this is one of them. It feels like these are important memories which need to be explored further, and I agreed, explaining that sometime over the next couple of months I want to go back up to the Midlands and spend some time just wandering and reliving.

I’m sure that some of these discussions were prompted by a question, but the only one I can vaguely remember is when Jonathan asked me whether I was missing anything or needed anything more. I said that I didn’t think so, that I am quite happy just doing what I am doing. I have realised a lot about myself and the way I work (or not) – I had been attempting to squeeze the round me into a square hole. As such, I have effectively torn up my work plan, as it’s just not who I am, and have decided just to wander; to go on a dérive, and to wonder. Jonathan liked the idea of wondering whilst wandering – there’s a name for it, he said. I thought of it afterwards – a homophone – although apparently wonder and wander are not actually homophones because of a very subtle difference in pronunciation of the first syllable – what killjoys! I like it anyway, and there is a lovely interplay between the two.

We then got onto the subject of the research paper and he referred to The Paradox Of Choice. I told him that I felt as if I had been told to go out and buy something, anything; that I had decided that I wanted to buy a cake but that I couldn’t specify which cake I wanted until I had visited all the cake shops and seen all that was on offer. I would have responded much better to having been given a choice of topic out of a small selection, akin to an exam paper; that I felt overwhelmed by choice and asking me what intrigues me doesn’t really narrow it down at all. Anyway, because of where my current experiments have taken me, I have decided to think about maps particularly in an autobiographical sense. We then went on to discuss maps and the issues with them in terms of distortion both physically in respect of projections and political motivations, perspective etc. Jonathan also mentioned Professor Steve Peters – Jonathan had been to a talk and had been given a copy of The Chimp Paradox – I had started reading it a while ago but didn’t finish it as I was probably distracted by something else. He referred specifically to the idea of the helicopter view. It’s a technique to gain perspective on something by imagining hovering over the issue in a helicopter which enables detachment and a more rational and objective view.

Does the need to do the research paper risk having a negative impact on my current wandering? This was a difficult question to answer, but on the whole I don’t think so – I’ve already recognised that I am a person of extremes, either really tidy or messy, focussed or distracted, honed in on the detail or preferring the bigger picture – each will appeal to my polar opposite needs and I am optimistic that what I discover whilst writing the research paper will have significant impact on my current practice.

I hope that I have covered everything we discussed although we must have talked about carbon paper at some point because I have used it recently. I have done a few things recently – I need to include them in a post but, frankly, all I have wanted to do is to make and not necessarily reflect on and write about it.

Maps

I was very lucky to have Cheng and Dalal in my group for this week’s group crit.

I showed my recent experiments with graphite and pencil.

I explained that I have become interested in the idea of inheritance recently and mentioned Donald Rodney’s work. We had a really interesting discussion about where we come from and our legacy, how it’s sometimes comforting to know that someone else before us was like us which frees us from feelings of fault and guilt, the idea of all that has gone before distilling down into us, much like our family tree before us, ends with us. How what we pass on feels like a responsibility or a burden.

Cheng commented that the white shapes give the impression of something that is no longer there and the dark shapes are reminiscent of shadows. Thinking about it, the shadows are cast by something that is there but is not visible. A figure’s absence is felt yet we feel a figure’s presence somewhere – it just about sums up ancestry.

I explained the process of making the pieces and how they seemed to develop into a type of map. I mentioned that the subject of maps has come to the forefront of my thinking recently along with the idea of connection. In my Unit 1 feedback one of the comments was: “It feels as though you have been working through an abundance of techniques that are maybe a type of mapping – now is the time to compare and contrast all of those experiments in order to develop an intuitive and personal way of mapping your experiences…”.

For sometime I’ve been interested in Deborah Levy’s idea of her mother being her internal sat nav and I used Google maps to obtain the aerial image I used in Parental Loss. My art class recently gave me a scarf with a Grayson Perry map on it. I was thinking earlier in the year of mapping the course of a river. The coincidence that I chose to draw the lines in colours which reminded me of maps somehow has linked all of this together. That, and the fact that I have been complaining ad nauseum about not having a sense of direction.

During these two years, I am, to all intents and purposes, mapping my life.

There seems to be a strong unintentional link to maps in the images: Cheng said that the images in which I’ve marked the intersections remind her of constellations, and Dalal observed that the lines themselves could be interpreted as borders, which then feeds into borders marking the the point where countries connect. This led to me seeing that the outline of the shapes themselves resemble coastlines.

Cheng and Dalal both made some really helpful comments about potential development:

  • playing with scale: a large image on a wall giving the impression of a map but then coming in close on a small scale to create a more personal experience and stronger connections
  • Drawing on a vintage map or incorporating old family photos
  • Using a pin to attach separate images to the points of intersection – this has since led me to think about criminal investigation maps – maps with string coming off from them to images and additional information on the perimeter
  • Thinking about how I can use materials to create something that looks older, that comes from a past time – this brought to mind highly decorative old maps with sea monsters in the oceans
  • creating a large scale reimagined map

Shortly after our session ended, I had a thought about making a digital map of my life with events or periods of significance being marked by specific points, a bit like a Google map, which you could then drag the yellow man to and drop into a space where you have a street view – maybe of images relating to that particular event. And then I laughed, Alexa laughed, Siri laughed, my husband laughed.

Lots to think about, as ever.

Rubbing It Out

Following on from Solitude, I decided to try and develop it further.

I used flipchart paper again, as it was easier to manhandle it over the obstinately curved wire fencing which I used for the grid effect. A downside was that the grid is a bit off kilter, but nonetheless I like the grid and the lines of coloured automatic drawing – it reminds me of map grid lines, a road map. I explored trying to have some figures behind and some in front of the grid. Not sure I succeeded and I am in two minds about the light figures.

I decided to have a go with soluble graphite sticks using heavyweight cartridge paper.

I wanted to get away from the soft diffused figures and experimented with hatching and rubbing on a textured surface. I sprayed with water and held upside down to create some streaks and drips. Not one for less is more, I drew some green and red lines and then thought it would be interesting to see what kind of a random pattern would be created by drawing dots at the intersections of the lines.

I still didn’t like the dark figures at the bottom and so to try and break them up a bit, I coloured in some random shapes like I’ve done previously using different marks in my monochrome doodles.

I really don’t like it, and I’m struggling to find anything positive to say about it other than I like the idea of the lines and the dots at intersections emphasising the concept of connectedness and the idea of multiple figures in the background; the idea of all those who have come before, and of inheritance (Bus Replacement Service)

This time I left out the water, but I still used the water soluble graphite stick which had a purple tint to it which isn’t apparent in the photos. I don’t think it is as easily blended as normal graphite.

I much prefer this one out of the two. I’m starting to wonder what it would be like on a painted ground or even using thin layers of oil paint gradually building them up. Or am I done for now?

Motherhood I

I have had an image in my mind for months. It came from the Elizabeth Stone quotation, I first mentioned in Hearts & Linos .

”Making the decision to have a child – it is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”

I think it encapsulates perfectly how I felt when I became a mother. My whole world was turned upside down. I was suddenly responsible for raising and protecting another human being. I felt overwhelmed by the magnitude of it all; that life would never be the same again. It made me question the sort of world I had brought her into, how her life might be; how much of it I would be a part of, the unthinkable and unbearable pain I would suffer if anything happened to her. She was precious and intrinsic to me, now living and breathing in the world, independently of me.

It’s taken a while. Bearing in mind that I’m still finding my way around Procreate I don’t think that I’ve done too badly. I’m sure that I’ve done lots of things incorrectly, but I don’t really care. It’s all a learning process and it was fundamentally about me trying to realise an image that I had in my head. I feel that I’ve achieved what I set out to do. In that respect, I’m pleased with it. I think it conveys the visceral nature of my feelings.

Actually, it has taken me more than a while; it’s taken ages, probably because I kept on making mistakes, but I have learnt lots along the way. I’ve redone parts of it several times but I have to say that it has all been about the process of discovery and realisation. It’s allowed me time to focus on the detail, but it’s been as part of the process rather than with a view to trying to achieve a perfect result. I don’t think that Procreate is a tool with which I can be loose and expressive in the physical sense, but it seems to satisfy that part of me that likes to focus on surreal detail every now and then. Hopefully that will allow the other part of me to enjoy the experimentation of being looser and more expressive in my mark-making when, say, painting.

I decided ages ago that I wanted to incorporate my ink experiments as a background to a collage type piece. I sourced the heart, crawling baby and head of the woman from royalty free image sites which allow for reproduction of the resultant work, if need be. The body is my daughter. She’s a bit freaked out by someone else’s head being on it, but I wanted a neutral character, and I couldn’t find an image of a woman sitting on a chair that fitted my requirements, so I roped in a free model.

It was challenging constructing the crawling heart. I’ve had to rebuild parts of it including the hands as some of the fingers were hidden in the original image. It was quite difficult finding source images whose licences allowed me to do what I wanted to do, and were also free. I’ve played around with editing effects and colours and I think that I’m settled on the last image for now. The slight greenish tones, complement the red heart. I really like the cyanotypes, but unfortunately there isn’t enough tonal variation and the slightly chaotic background loses its delicate tonal transitions in the process. I might try again but change the background to something a little less busy. But I like the historical, almost Victorian Penny Dreadful feel to them. I might develop it further, but I’ll leave it on the back burner for now.

The time delay video created by Procreate is of epic proportions, but it’s helpful for me to watch it back so I can see what a song and dance I made of it all. This is a shortened version.

Stuff

During our session at the brain gym this week, I explained to Dalal and Josh that I have been struggling to make finished work, as opposed to the products of experimentation. They both agreed with Jonathan, who, during my tutorial, had questioned whether I felt a pressure to make finished pieces; the experimentation stage is a place to stay for a while, and will, at the right point, turn into something more complete. I commented to Josh and Dalal that part of the problem may be that I’m ever conscious of time passing, and so I feel that I should be making the most of every minute – preparing the work plan had brought into perspective that there are a finite number of weeks left of the course, and that made me experience a moment of what I can only describe as loss.

I had hoped that a more productive phase would be imminent, but I suspect that at the moment this is being hampered by not having the headspace, or the physical space.

My husband is about (fingers crossed) to complete on the sale of his parents’ house in Liverpool – his childhood family home. He has been up and down, bringing things back. I find the process very difficult – I don’t have a problem with keeping things of use or of sentimental value, but another can opener? We have enough of our own stuff. We, or more specifically I, don’t need to add our parents’ stuff to the mix. I feel like I’m suffocating under the weight of belongings, many of which are occupying the physical space where I should be creating (more stuff?). Admittedly, I’ve been sorting this space out for I can’t remember how long, and made absolutely no progress. I’m conscious that my daughter will, one day, hopefully not in the foreseeable, have to undergo the same process – I don’t want her to be weighed down by all the stuff.

Along with the stuff, he also brought back what remains of one of his best friends from school, who died suddenly last year. His friend had left instructions as to all the places where he wanted to be scattered, including our garden, as he enjoyed coming to visit. Unbeknownst to me, my husband had brought him into the house and put him on the shelf, next to a glass bowl which had belonged to his parents, and which he had smuggled in as contraband whilst I wasn’t looking. My heart sank as I saw the bowl, and then the black bag next to it – what’s in here I thought as I opened the bag and took off the lid, another ornament?…

Dialogue IV – I’m So Over It

I’ve had enough of this side quest (©️Rebecca). I regret the day that I started it. Have I enjoyed any part of it? Maybe the beginning, the anticipation, the thinking about it. But when it comes to the process, it has been a monumental headache, from the execution to the photographing.

I realise a few things may be influencing my feelings about it. I keep getting reminder emails that the submission deadline is approaching – like I don’t know. Also, my daughter phoned me up yesterday morning in a crisis during an online exam – she was having IT issues. She had already contacted the helpdesk and taken screenshots, so my only advice was that she could only do what she could and not to stress, they must have procedures for this sort of thing. A couple of hours later she was feeling better, whilst I was still feeling the effects of all her stress, and trying to work out how on earth I was going to take a photo of a reflective surface. That, and the fact that some of the glue had managed to escape from under the cut-outs, and the realisation that I had fixed the die on the wrong way round.

Anyway, this morning it wasn’t raining for a change, so I took it outside. I’m not entirely sure how I’m supposed to convey its reflective qualities without including a reflection which then looks like it’s part of the work. Well, following my own advice, I can only do what I can do.

I feel like it’s been a shambles and that I’ve been amateurishly stumbling from one thing to another. The process hasn’t been the experience I thought that it would be. Because I had no expectations, I thought that there would be no stress – instead I’ve experienced confusion and frustration, and it has taken just as much out of me as other years, just in a different way. The only difference is, if it doesn’t get anywhere, I really don’t think I care at this point.

But every experience is a useful one. So what have I learnt?

  • Mirrored acrylic has an amazing quality of turning into a super static magnetic for all manner of minute particles floating around in the air and so is impossible to get clean.
  • Whilst deadlines can assist in making decision making and getting on with it, a lack of time reduces options, options which may have been the better course to follow. I should have had the image screen printed – it would have avoided so many issues – but I just didn’t leave myself enough time.
  • I’m not neat, and I don’t do small and fiddly.
  • I’ve tried something different – maybe next time I’ll enjoy it.
  • I can submit work which I don’t like and which contains what I know to be obvious errors.
  • I’m going to do mirrors again, sometime – they will not defeat me.
  • The process of exploration and experimentation is not just about serendipity and happy accidents or things that just don’t work, it can provoke feelings of confusion, frustration and it’s just not that easy.

But for the moment, I’m so over it.

Dialogue I

I’ve been thinking about what I can do for my submission to the Summer Exhibition.

One thing is for certain, the resource of time over the next two weeks is extremely limited, what with the deadlines for my study statement, curation of my blog and something for the interim show in March, all of which take precedence. In previous years I’ve given a lot of thought and time to my entry and got precisely nowhere, so this year I’m going to do something different. It will be interesting to see whether rejection feels different depending on how much time has been invested. I’m going to follow the philosophy of Gino D’Acampo – minimum effort, maximum satisfaction – have a bit of an experiment and not get too hung up about it.

I’ve put my initial thoughts into a mind map although, to be honest, when I’ve been round the exhibition in previous years, I’ve struggled to see the relevance of some works to the theme.

There are quite a few ideas to consider:

  • I quite like the idea that ‘dialogue’ literally means ‘through words’ – words in the work itself/ posing a question?
  • What about the ability of images to convey phrases and words? One of my favourite TV programmes when I was a teenager was Catchphrase, in which contestants had to guess the phrases being represented by a short animation. Those were the days when it was hosted by Roy Walker – much better than the revival hosted by Stephen Mulhern. A while ago I was looking for a birthday card, and I came across this one. It took me ages to get out of the shop – I tried to solve the clues, the women behind the counter had been trying to solve them all morning, it seemed everyone in the shop wanted to have a go.
  • Exchange – does a dialogue have to be continuous or can there be pauses eg written dialogue in letters, email etc? Can it be in different forms eg verbal met with non-verbal response?
  • Dialogue between the viewer and the work?

Anyway, I’m going to have a quick look to see how other artists have dealt with the subject of dialogue, whilst giving it all some further thought.

Never Drinking Coke Again

I had some free time yesterday, so I decided to try out kitchen lithography using some aluminium foil and cola.

This is the first time I’ve tried it – I’ve been interested in doing it since I came across a Canadian artist who uses it in her work, in addition to other printing processes, Valerie Syposz. Her work primarily deals with self-perception and existence.

I like the surreal quality of her work, and her subject matter is relevant to what I’m exploring.

I have to be honest and say that it didn’t really go to plan. First of all, I discovered that the foil I have in my kitchen drawer has a honeycomb pattern embossed on it, and then I forgot to use the dull rather than the shiny side of the foil. I made various marks using different pencils, pens, markers, graphite sticks and pastels, but I was doomed to failure. Not wanting to go out into the cold to my shed to find some plexiglass sheets to wrap the foil around, I had used an Amazon envelope which I found in the recycling bin, which turns out had some raised edges on it. But, hey, it’s just an experiment. I also didn’t apply enough water to the plate which meant that the ink adhered to areas it shouldn’t have.

Once I had realised my mistakes I gave it another go. I used a small plexiglass sheet this time, and found some other foil which had a smooth surface. I made a quick, not so good, drawing of the plant in front of me. I used a combination of a chinagraph pencil, basic oil pastel, and a 6B graphite pencil. I did try using a biro, but it ripped a hole in the foil – this was probably because the foil wasn’t very strong. I then poured cola over the top of the plate, rinsed it off, and then rubbed the image away using vegetable oil. Once the plate was dampened with water, I rolled on the ink, re-applying water using a sponge between each ink application. The idea is that the cola contains gum arabic and phosphoric acid which makes the foil which hasn’t been drawn on, hygroscopic. I then used a bamboo baren to transfer the image to a sheet of Hosho paper.

They’re not great, but I’m just happy that I managed to get a defined image at all, bearing in mind my first attempt was such a complete Horlicks.

It felt good trying something new, and what made it particularly enjoyable was the fact that it could be done at home with easily accessible tools and supplies. I will definitely explore it further perhaps after doing some further research so that I can appreciate its full potential. There is a lot of scope for experimentation with different printmakers having different opinions as to the best methodology to adopt: some lightly sand the foil before drawing on it, others use cornflour and maple syrup on the plate; some don’t use a support and just use the foil as a sheet. Maybe the brand of cola has a bearing on whether the process is successful: perhaps I’ll need to have a Pepsi challenge.

Part One: Think Like An Artist

… and Lead a More Creative, Productive Life by Will Gompertz isn’t taking me long to read at all. Gompertz, artistic director at the Barbican, makes some very interesting and thought-provoking observations on what it is to be creative. As I’m galloping through it at such a speed, I thought it best to highlight some parts, as I go along, which I think will either help me in finding my artistic voice, or which reinforce ideas and concepts which we have touched on in the course so far.

On failure:

When it comes to creativity, failure is as inevitable as it is unavoidable. It is part of the very fabric of making. All artists, regardless of their discipline, aim for perfection…But they know perfection is unobtainable. And therefore they have to accept that everything they produce is doomed to be a failure to some extent…Thomas Edison knew all about the notion of sticking at it…But at no point did he countenance failure: ‘I have not failed 10,000 times,’ he said. ‘I have not failed once. I have succeeded in proving that those 10,000 ways will not work. When I have eliminated the ways that will not work, I will find a way that will work‘…There is plenty of time for wrong turns, for getting lost; for feeling generally hopeless. The crucial thing is to keep going. Artists appear glamorous and blessedly detached, but in reality they are tenacious grafters: they are the proverbial dogs with bones… And while they are out there, worrying away, they often discover a hidden truth about the creative process… Their success is very often down to a Plan B. That is, the thing they originally set out to do has morphed along the way into something different.”

He references several artists who started out in one direction only to find their success through a Plan B, such as Mondrian, Lictenstein and Bridget Riley. In the case of the latter, in the early part of her career Riley was interested in colour theory and the work of the Impressionists, the Pointillism of Seurat, and the composition of Cézanne. It wasn’t working for her; she was directionless and lacked originality, and she was getting older. The ending of a relationship caused her to paint a canvas black, and she took all that she had learnt from her studies of Seurat et al and applied her knowledge in abstract terms. She painted a white horizontal line the lower edge straight, the upper edge forming a curve – it became a painting expressing the dynamism and inequality of relationships, human and spatial.

’Kiss’, 1961, Bridget Riley (Wikiart 4 Jan 2025)

Bridget Riley had to abandon the one thing she thought most important and appealing about painting – colour – in order to make any real progress. It didn’t mean colour could never feature in her work again, only that at that precise moment in time it was the roadblock… Only when [she] went back to the most basic of basics – a canvas covered in black paint – did she find the necessary clarity to progress. Only then did she discover the most precious and liberating of things: her artistic voice… As long as you stick at what you are doing, constantly going through the cycle of experimentation, assessment and correction, the chances are you will reach the moment when everything falls into place.”

The cycle of experimentation, assessment and correction is at the very essence of this course: Practice-based research.

Gompertz also states that if you call yourself an artist and make art, then you are an artist regardless of where you are in the process, or what skills you still need to learn and develop. I think I find this the hardest to embrace – I still can’t quite think of myself that way. I’ve only just got my head around being a student – in retrospect, it probably wasn’t the best idea to try it out first on the border official at Marrakech airport who looked at me with incredulity and repeated “Student?”. Admittedly, it’s been a lot easier since I discovered all the discounts available!

On ideas:

Gompertz asserts that originality in a completely pure form does not exist; that all ideas are additional links in an existing chain, each link adding to the one before. It is a form of disruption: something to react against and respond to, to build upon. He suggests that Picasso, in the quote attributed to him – good artists copy, great artists steal – is actually describing a process that an artist needs to go through: we learn through copying and imitating, and it is only once we have done this and developed the basic techniques that we can identify opportunities to add our own link to the chain, and to find our own artistic voice. This reminds me of my discussion with Jonathan about Frida Kahlo’s ‘The Two Fridas’, when I questioned whether any work I make which is inspired by it will be original enough: he advised me that Kahlo painted it in the late 1930s and I would be doing my version almost 90 years later expressing my own feelings – following Gompertz’s reasoning, I would, in effect, be adding my own link to her existing link in the chain.

In fact there are numerous creatives who have been quoted as admitting to building on the ideas of others.

If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.” Isaac Newton

Creativity is knowing how to hide your sources” Einstein

We have always been shameless about stealing great ideas”. Steve Jobs

The young Picasso produced work which imitated the likes of Goya, Velázquez and El Greco, and later the Impressionists and Post Impressionists. It was only when his friend, Casagemas, died that he found his own artistic voice in his Blue Period; the blocks of colour, bold lines and expressive manner, which he had learnt from all those artists he had imitated, still influenced him, he just put his own twist on it. He took their ideas and filtered them through his own personality and experience, and used his instincts to simplify and reduce them into his original thought, into new and unique connections. Being creative isn’t always about adding to something; it can be at its most original when taking something away. This is demonstrated perfectly by Picasso’s bull lithographs, which took him a month to complete.

‘Le Taureau‘, 1945/46 (Wikipedia, 5 January 2025)

There is no such thing as a wholly original idea. But there is such a thing as unique combinations.” Gompertz