Although “Leaf by Niggle” celebrates the inherent value of art, the story also acknowledges the importance of living and working practically within a functioning society. Niggle’s priorities as an artist are completely at odds with the expectations and rules of the surrounding society. He doesn’t place much value in practical tasks during his life, building a shed for his painting on top of what used to be his potato patch and calling his neighbor (Parish) “Old Earthgrubber” for caring so much about gardening. Even in the Workhouse, distinct from Niggle’s old country, his assignments of hard labor are intended to help him realize that his preoccupation with painting got in the way of his obligations to others and to the land, which suggests that the laws of the old country are not simply superficial but are real, spiritual virtues that are valued even after death. After what feels like centuries in the Workhouse, Niggle begins to wish he had focused more on the practical tasks required of him during his life, like repairing the tiles on Parish’s roof. His endless hours of practical tasks—carpentry, digging, cleaning—in the Workhouse seem to erase his preoccupation with creativity. Even so, he is not truly satisfied by a purely practical existence; even though he is kept busy completing his tasks, he does not find pleasure in his days. The story’s depiction of paradise is the idea of creation as a living thing, represented by the land Niggle enters when he is let out of the Workhouse. In the land that resembles an animated, completed form of his painting, he is compelled to carry out practical tasks to build a pleasant life for himself and for Parish. The story therefore suggests that to be fulfilled, one must work both creatively and practically, thus cultivating the conditions for beauty and creativity to flourish in the first place.
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Creativity vs. Practicality ThemeTracker
Creativity vs. Practicality Quotes in Leaf by Niggle
He had a number of pictures on hand; most of them were too large and ambitious for his skill. He was the sort of painter who can paint leaves better than trees. He used to spend a long time on a single leaf, trying to catch its shape, and its sheen, and the glistening of dewdrops on its edges. Yet he wanted to paint a whole tree, with all of its leaves in the same style, and all of them different.
When Parish looked at Niggle’s garden (which was often) he saw mostly weeds; and when he looked at Niggle’s picture (which was seldom) he saw only green and grey patches and black lines, which seemed to him nonsensical. He did not mind mentioning the weeds (a neighbourly duty), but he refrained from giving any opinion of the pictures. He thought this was very kind, and he did not realise that, even if it was kind, it was not kind enough. Help with the weeds (and perhaps praise for the pictures) would have been better.
At any rate, poor Niggle got no pleasure out of life, not what he had been used to call pleasure. He was certainly not amused. But it could not be denied that he began to have a feeling of—well satisfaction: bread rather than jam.
One day Niggle was busy planting a quickset hedge, and Parish was lying on the grass near by, looking attentively at a beautiful and shapely little yellow flower growing in the green turf. Niggle had put a lot of them among the roots of his Tree long ago. Suddenly Parish looked up: his face was glistening in the sun, and he was smiling.
“Of course, painting has uses,” said Tompkins. “But you couldn’t make use of his painting. There is plenty of scope for bold young men not afraid of new ideas and new methods. None for this old-fashioned stuff. Private daydreaming. He could not have designed a telling poster to save his life. Always fiddling with leaves and flowers. I asked him why, once. He said he thought they were pretty. Can you believe it? He said pretty! ‘What, digestive and genital organs of plants?’ I said to him; and he had nothing to answer. Silly footler.”
