The greatest moment of wonder at the creativity process came to me in the Louvre in Paris, stood for the first time in front of Theodore Gericault's "Raft of the Medusa'. I had seen reproductions of the picture many times on slides and in textbooks, and its content and construction had fascinated me. But no reproduction could prepare me for the experience of seeing the real thing.
The Story
In 1816 a French government frigate was wrecked on a journey to Senegal. Due to an insufficient provision of lifeboats for all, a raft was quickly fashioned from wood from the upper deck of the vessel. This raft was to be towed by the lifeboats to accommodate the remaining crew. Once in the water the lifeboat lines were mysteriously broken, and the raft drifted off, carrying with it 150 men. The raft was sighted 17 days later, and only 15 men were rescued.
The French government were accused of having appointed as captain an inefficient favourite of King Louis XVIII, and necessary means for safety had not been provided. The case was taken up by the liberal opposition of the day and Gericault was sympathetic to the their cause. He supplied lithographs to illustrate a pamphlet of accusation against the government, written by two of the survivors. The printing shop, where Royalist opposition material originated from was named 'At the Wreck of the Medusa' - a widely known meeting place for political malcontents.
A painting inside the French Salon would have a huge impact, delivering in the heart of the establishment, a message of anger.
This event was a political scandal - and Gericault's painting - an exposé -- a 17th Century tabloid headline!
How to be a creative polemic in the 18th century French Salon
In many ways the canvas is a masterpiece for its guile and nerve alone.
The French Salon committee would have looked for a Rococo style to hang on the walls of their establishment. Figures of authority or social standing, painted with decadence and frivolity - a style that, with lightness of touch, would quietly assure the ruling classes of their superiority.
The Raft of the Medusa is anathema to this. It is realistic and concerns the plight of ordinary, nameless characters - a huge break from tradition. It adopts sharp light and shade, giving the canvas a darkness that reflects the horror of the subject matter on display. It confronts death and suffering. Rather than an illustration of Monarchy achievement, it depicts a failing and a weakness.
Nevertheless, the painting was accepted and exhibited, to an institution conservative in nature and one that monopolised the promotion of creative output. It acted as arresting reportage for those who saw it first exhibited, and acts as cultural heritage for us all to wonder at to this day. How is this so?
To depict a ship of state running aground would have been both obvious, heavy-handed and unacceptable. Gericault instead chooses to depict the moment of sighting of the ship, The Argus that leads to rescue. (the ship is depicted as a tiny speck on the horizon). Hope is injected into the scene and the image made immediately more palatable.
From the prostrate bodies of the dead and dying in the foreground, the composition is built up to an emotional peak, embodied by the frantically waving central figure. This forward surge of the survivors parallels the movement of the raft they stand on. This scores valuable points for acceptance - structure and content are harmonious.
Although realism is a central concern for Gericault, where a story is here to be told, there is still an adherence to ancient tradition. Despite 17 days at sea, and the gruesome accounts of deprivation, disease and cannibalism that he had from survivors, his protagonists are presented as muscular and healthy. Gericault draws reference from antiquity, and is displaying his mastery of presenting the idealised human form and consequently himself as a worthy Salon contributor.
How to be creative in the workplace
The example of Theodore Gericault's picture I hope illustrates the need to be mindful of our environment. Creativity as bold, daring and revolutionary as his, was still subject to the constraining forces of his time.
We all live, work in, contribute to and respond to our organisational culture. It is often more ubiquitous and powerful than we give it credit for. Perhaps this is because it is more comforting to believe our actions are self-determined rather than shaped by our working environment. Nevertheless, it, in no small part, guides our attitudes and behaviours.
It is thus of prime importance that our culture of work is frequently challenged. Such challenge comes in the form of creativity. New ways of working not only offer an exciting opportunity to be inventive and innovative, but also act as a 'checking mechanism' for the place we are in - a critical eye on our established practices. To be creative is to be self-determined - an empowering force. However, business culture has the power to shape our creativity, and effective creative change also requires a broader cultural sensitivity, that encompasses and enriches rather than fights present business practice. Effective and lasting transformation may then take place.
On August 1819, three days before the opening of the Salon, Louis XVIII examined the painting of the raft and concluded,
'Monsieur Gericault, your shipwreck is certainly no disaster'
Phil Jefferis
Back to Newsletter |  |
