Family → Theatre → Film → Sculpture

Going to THE LEWIS COLLECTION Day Sale private view at Sotheby's reminded me why I enjoy viewing collections assembled by individuals. They often reveal as much about the collector as the works themselves, and visits like this always seem to cement my own artistic style and taste.

Dalí, Le Char, projet de carte pour les tarots de Salvador Dalí

I found myself most drawn to Dalí's Le Char, projet de carte pour les tarots de Salvador Dalí, circa 1971, and Lucio Fontana's Concetto Spaziale. Of course, Edgar Degas' Petite danseuse de quatorze ans was magnificent and required a different form of artistic appreciation. It radiated history and significance, not only because of its lineage but because of the tactile and delicate nature of having bronze paired with fabric.

This is something that is rarely seen, as it almost takes away from bronze's durable nature as a material and places the work into an extremely delicate category. It reminded me of my own work, The Fledgling (2017). When realising the drapery, I used my Grandpa's original dining room curtain, which not only creates visual impact but is also extremely relevant to the subject matter of the piece.

Lydia Smith, The Fledgling (2017)

Going back to my influences, it makes me think that perhaps, as artists throughout time, we are born with a pre-coded aesthetic. It would explain why so many artists across different mediums are grouped together into styles and movements. We cannot always explain why we make in a certain way.

This is partly why I find accusations of copying work somewhat ludicrous. Creating artwork requires such an extraordinary investment of energy, time, dedication, and sacrifice. Most artists I know are trying to discover something about themselves through making, which is why I often struggle to understand the assumption that similar work must mean somebody copied somebody else. What if artists simply arrive at similar conclusions independently? If we are all born with a pre-existing aesthetic instinct, then perhaps similarities between artists are less about imitation and more about shared ways of seeing the world. It could also explain why styles and genres continue to repeat throughout history.

This aesthetic language that exists within our work also trickles into everyday life: what we wear, how we decorate our homes, and the spaces we choose to occupy. Again, it naturally places us into groups within society.

My main inspirations are Isamu Noguchi and Dalí, not only because of their visual language but because of their journeys and relentless commitment to making. Both seemed incapable of limiting themselves to a single discipline or way of thinking, which I have always found deeply inspiring.

I am often compared to Henry Moore and Barbara Hepworth, which is a huge compliment. However, I confess that these comparisons can sometimes feel like an accusation as much as a compliment.

I am putting it in writing that I had actually never seen the work of Henry Moore or Barbara Hepworth before transitioning into abstract sculpture. I did not grow up with access to the art world. One of my strongest memories from that time is my Grandpa taking me to see a Vincent van Gogh exhibition while I was doing my A-Levels. I remember the experience so vividly, not only because it was one of the first times I had stepped into a gallery, but because I got to share it with him.

I know that might seem difficult to believe, considering Moore and Hepworth are among Britain's sculptural greats. Coming from a film and theatre background, my art historical knowledge was, frankly, shocking. When you also consider that I come from a family with no direct links to the arts and went on to study Theatre and Film at BA level, perhaps it becomes a little easier to understand how these major figures in British sculpture passed me by.

I wanted to study Art History at secondary school, but I was the only student interested in taking it, which meant the GCSE course never ran. It was a real shame.

After the comparisons started, I intentionally stayed away from Moore and Hepworth's work for quite a long time. I didn't want their visual language to subconsciously trickle into my own. I wanted to create work that came purely from my soul.

Of course, I couldn't avoid their work forever. Having visited Henry Moore Studios and recently seen the Henry Moore exhibition at Kew Gardens, I can understand why some people compare certain aspects of my forms to his. Other comparisons, I have to say, could not be further from my work. Nevertheless, I take the compliment with pride. To be compared with such great artists is a wonderful thing.

However, I will quickly add that my voice and my work are LYDIA SMITH, not anyone else, no matter how fabulous they may be.

I want to be known for me.

Which brings me back to the interesting discoveries from THE LEWIS COLLECTION and the works I found myself naturally drawn to. The experience only cemented my artistic and visual tastes even further.

Perhaps there really are certain forms, materials, and ideas that we are destined to be drawn towards. Whether that comes from instinct, experience, or something far more mysterious, I don't know.

What I do know is that visits like this always leave me understanding my own work a little better.