BBC Radio 4’s Only Artists podcast is a fascinating series that brings together two creative people – usually artists, but sometimes writers, designers, musicians or filmmakers – for insightful conversations. In each episode, one artist interviews the other, or they are in dialogue which offers insight into their creative processes, inspirations and challenges. I notice vast shared experiences and how their different disciplines influence each other, creating rich and inspiring dialogues.
What do I notice about the conversations themselves?
Honesty and authenticity: The conversations feel unfiltered and deeply personal. Artists share not only their successes but also their challenges and doubts.
Interdisciplinary ideas: Artists often explore the connections between their work and broader cultural, philosophical or scientific ideas, creating thought-provoking discussions.
Process exploration: The focus is less on the finished work and more on how and why the artists create, offering valuable insights into their approaches and methods.
Dialogue rather than an interview: The conversation format feels organic, with both participants contributing equally. There is a sense of mutual curiosity and learning.
Emotion and vulnerability: Many moments highlight the emotional and human side of art-making, showing how personal experiences and feelings influence their practice.
How does it benefit an audience to hear artists ‘in conversation’ about their work and practices?
Access to hidden perspectives: Viewers gain insight into the thinking and motivations behind an artist’s work that aren’t always apparent in the artwork itself.
Breaking the "Mystique" of Art: Listening to artists talk honestly makes the process of creating art seem more accessible and less intimidating.
Inspiration for creatives: Aspiring artists or creatives can gain practical advice, new approaches, and ways of thinking about their own work.
Broader understanding of art: Viewers can see how art relates to larger social, cultural, or personal themes, deepening their appreciation of the work.
Human connection: Conversations highlight that artists are people we can relate to, making their work more accessible and meaningful.
Chantal Joffé (artist) and Olivier Laing (writer)
The conversation between Chantal Joffé and Olivier Laing was strikingly open, intimate, and deeply personal. They discussed very private and vulnerable subjects with honesty, which made the dialogue feel authentic and relatable.
Chantal Joffé, Winter Studio Self-Portrait, 2024, oil on board 84 5/8 x 39 3/8 inches, 215 x 100 cm 1. Skarstedt [online] At: https://www.skarstedt.com/exhibitions/chantal-joffe?view=slider#4 (Accessed 17.12.2024)
One aspect that stood out to me was how much I could reflect on and connect to their experiences. For example, both artists shared how their early school years were terrifying and unpleasant - a sentiment I’ve experienced myself. This commonality made their stories even more engaging.
An interesting feature of this podcast is that, as a listener, I couldn’t see who was speaking. At times, I lost track of who was saying what - whether it was the writer or the visual artist. Yet, this blurring of voices felt fitting because their shared experiences created a sense of unity. It made me reflect on how different creative disciplines can overlap and resonate on a fundamental level.
One insight that particularly resonated with me was, I believe, from Chantal Joffé, who said she cannot fully enjoy a book or any other artwork until she feels something. Feeling is essential for her to connect to the structure, characters, or essence of the work. I strongly agree with this notion - emotion plays a vital role in how we experience and understand art.
Roddy Doyle (novelist) and Anthony Gormley (artist)
The conversation between Roddy Doyle and Anthony Gormley offered a thought-provoking blend of personal reflections and societal observations. Roddy Doyle, as a writer, spoke about how he uses his own experiences as material for his books. One point that stood out was his reflection on ageing - he views the process of growing older as something to explore and reflect on in his writing. While I found this perspective inspiring, it also felt a bit melancholic, especially when he mentioned attending more funerals than weddings as part of this stage of life. It touched on the reality that ageing brings both insight and pain, a topic that feels very poignant.
Anthony Gormley, Angel of the North, Featured image courtesy of Picnicin, from Wikipedia Creative Commons. Newcastle Magazine [online] At: https://newcastlemagazine.com/new-sculpture-for-newcastle-from-angel-of-the-north-artist-11721/ (Accessed 17.12.2024)
Anthony Gormley brought in a contrasting yet equally engaging perspective as he talked about how his work, the Angel of the North, was accepted by society. He noted how the angel was "allowed" in a football-focused area, which I believe is in Gateshead near Newcastle, a place where football culture dominates. I found this fascinating because it highlights how art can coexist in spaces traditionally seen as unrelated to artistic pursuits.
What I particularly liked was the dialogue that followed between Doyle and Gormley. Doyle remarked on the societal perception of art, observing how, in the past, being an artist or footballer didn’t seem so distinct - art was integrated into everyday life and wasn’t seen as separate from other interests. Today, however, there’s often a divide, where those deeply invested in one field might feel disconnected from another, such as art.
Lavinia Greenlaw (poet and novelist) and Charles Avery (artist)
Charles Avery, The Place of the Route of the If'en. Pencil, ink and gouache on paper Two panels: 162.60 x 243.50 cm (framed: 200.00 x 300.00 cm) London, 2007. National Galleries [online] At: https://www.nationalgalleries.org/art-and-artists/94756 (Accessed 17.12.2024)
The conversation between Lavinia Greenlaw, poet and novelist, and Charles Avery brought a mix of insights and frustrations. I noticed early on that Lavinia took on the role of the interviewer, asking Charles Avery many questions, but he didn’t reciprocate by asking about her work or thoughts. This imbalance made the conversation feel one-sided, and I found it frustrating because I was genuinely curious to hear more about Lavinia’s writing and perspective, which unfortunately didn’t come through.
Despite this, the dialogue revealed fascinating aspects of Avery’s practice. He frequently referred to his childhood—a recurring theme I’ve noticed with many artists in these conversations. It seems natural that childhood memories and upbringing form the foundation of an artist's worldview, shaping their understanding of life and creative expression. For Avery, this manifests in his concept of “the island,” a fictional world populated with creatures and narratives that he creates and explores. This imaginary space appears central to his artistic process, a metaphor for both escapism and discovery.
A particularly striking moment in the conversation was when Lavinia (I believe) said that art is about learning about yourself, not about the artist. This idea resonated deeply with me. It emphasizes that art’s purpose is to offer something transformative to the viewer—to open up new perspectives or awaken something within them. It’s not about telling a specific story or enforcing the artist’s ideas but creating a space for the audience to experience something unique and personal. I find this notion crucial to my own understanding of art: art should be open, reflective, and a catalyst for discovery.
Katie Paterson (Visual artist) and David Mitchell (Novelist)
Katie Paterson, Totality. National Galleries Somerset House [online] At: https://www.somersethouse.org.uk/residents/katie-paterson (Accessed 17.12.2024)
In the conversation between Katie Paterson and David Mitchell, I noticed an interesting dynamic from the very beginning as they discussed the difficulty of naming their jobs or categorizing their work. They both seemed to resist labels, with Katie Paterson suggesting that art is not categorical and David Mitchell preferring to call himself a redactor rather than a writer. His reasoning was that saying “writer” invites questions like “what are you writing?” - something he seemed to want to avoid.
While this discussion felt sophisticated, it also struck me as somewhat distant and reserved for highly established artists - those who already have a strong sense of their place in the art or literary world. Katie Paterson’s work, like letting people listen to “Melting Glaciers” or contemplating “all the dead stars in the universe,” is conceptually ambitious and abstract. This type of work feels rooted in confidence and certainty about one’s practice. For me, as an artist still reflecting, questioning, and doubting everything I do, I find it crucial to categorize my work and understand my position in the creative landscape. It’s part of my process of growth and self-awareness.
This dialogue also made me consider the nature of such conversations. While incredibly insightful for artists - offering a glimpse into the thoughts and practices of established creatives - they may feel more niche or less accessible to general audiences. For someone not deeply involved in art or literature, the ideas presented might feel abstract or overly intellectual, lacking immediate connection or relatability.
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