Is inspiration actually a form of permission?

Visual people tend to find inspiration in the work of other visual people. Walk into the studio of any artist or designer and you will very likely find images, books, objects and other visual odds and ends scattered around the place. Sometimes they can be ordered and organised, but most often they are pinned to the wall, taped to the easel, and sitting on the desk next to the computer.

These things aren’t there by accident. They have been carefully selected and combined into a tapestry of personal inspiration. Selected for their colour, form, size, subject, technique – whatever – artists and designers surround themselves with these inspirational reference items as a matter of habit. This is not about copying; it is about comfort. Having these images and objects close at hand, and occasionally picking them up and looking at them feels good. In some strange way being in the presence of these talismanic objects brings a sense of comfort and security to an endeavour that is often fraught with anxiety and self-doubt.

More than mere decoration – they form a kind of artistic ‘habitat’ that helps to create the conditions for the right kind of conversation with the drawing, painting, etc. In some ways these things are almost more important than the physical aspects of the studio in terms of creating an environment that is conducive to the right kind of creativity. Their presence seems to create an atmosphere that supports the creative process. They are without a doubt an explicit source of inspiration. But that's not all.

In addition to the inspiration that comes from these images and objects, I also think that these things confer a kind of ‘permission’ to the artist or designer. Because these things are very often infused with a particular kind of energy, and very often a particular kind of authorial commitment (even if that author is Mother Nature) they do more than simply inspire. These images and objects act as indicators that there are other people in the world who think a bit like you do.

Why is this so important in a field of endeavour that is fundamentally attached to the notion of free will and independent creative invention? Starting with the Renaissance, and since the early twentieth century in particular, the practice of western artists and designers has become increasingly driven by the myth of the lone genius. Working in complete isolation in order to have a pure, unadulterated idea has become an unspoken artistic ambition. This kind of isolation is a very uncomfortable place for all but a tiny fraction of people engaged in creative work. Everyone needs inspiration, but I suspect that many people need something more as well.

My hunch is that the tendency to surround oneself with carefully selected images and objects is partly about providing inspiration, but also about providing permission from across time and geography at just the moment it is needed. When stepping into the uncharted waters outside ones creative comfort zone it is helpful to have not just a sense of inspiration, but a sense of support and acceptance. It is energising to know that in that moment there are people (whom you have never met) who can provide silent encouragement for acts of personal artistic bravery. I believe that studios around the world (including my own) are effectively ‘wallpapered’ not with pieces of inspiration, but with words of encouragement.