The Creativity Diaries #4: Salvador Dalí

Everything is a remix

Antennas of the Genius - Salvador Dalí | Adolf Hoffmeister | Wikimedia Commons

Millions of potentially great projects have been slaughtered at the altar of originality.

The urge to create something untethered from the past starves more than it inspires, diverting artists from the fertile creative soil that nourished their ancestors.

At first glance, the wacky art of Salvador Dalí certainly seems original, an orgy of melting clocks, lobster phones, and spindle-legged elephants. Yet even the great Spanish surrealist began on a well-trodden path. He immersed himself in the works of the old masters. He meticulously studied and replicated the techniques of Renaissance artists like Vermeer and Velázquez. He explored everything from Impressionism to Cubism.

"Those who do not want to imitate anything, produce nothing," he argued. Only by first mastering the techniques of those who came before him could he develop his own eccentric, boundless style.

Dalí's approach mirrors that of history’s great artists: Shakespeare, who borrowed liberally from older myths, Italian comedies, and historical accounts; Picasso who famously declared, "Good artists copy, great artists steal"; and The Beatles, who built their revolutionary sound by first imitating blues, skiffle, and rock 'n' roll.

Some creators worry imitation makes them unoriginal. They’re wrong. In order to break an art’s form, one must first understand the art. If you refuse to engage with existing ideas, you risk creating in a vacuum, producing work that is directionless and uninformed.

Here’s the thing: you cannot help but be yourself. There’s no other option. You will always bring yourself into everything you create, no matter where you started from. That’s what’s original, not the idea itself, but what you are doing with it.

Dalí didn't just copy the old masters. He took the precision of their work and injected it with the absurd, the bizarre, and the subconscious. His paintings, dripping clocks, distorted figures, and landscapes that defy logic were built upon centuries of artistic tradition, but they were unmistakably his own.

Imitation, then, is not the enemy of creativity. It is the starting point. The key is to move beyond mimicry, to use your influences as a springboard, not a destination.

Next time you struggle with originality, remember…those who refuse to imitate produce nothing at all!

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If you enjoyed this, check out last week’s installment: The Creativity Diaries #3: Tchaikovsky

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