“Leaf by Niggle” examines the different ways that people conceive of art, ultimately underscoring the intrinsic value of beauty. There is a dramatic contrast between the reception of Niggle’s painting in the old country and the way it is appreciated by those leaving the Workhouse. In Niggle’s life as a painter, he is the only one who cares about his creative work. When others notice the huge canvas, it is because they are looking for building materials to repair Parish’s house: they cannot see the painting for what it is. Even in Niggle’s imagination, the ideal person to admire and commend his work is actually just another version of himself, implying that he’s well aware of the lack of interest others have in art. Because there’s no public pension for artists, his attempts to complete his most treasured work are constantly interrupted by the necessity to maintain his land and accept visitors. And after Niggle goes on his journey, his art is dismissed by most of his acquaintances, particularly those with higher standing in society like Councillor Tompkins, who calls Niggle’s painting “[p]rivate day-dreaming.” Tompkins says he would respect Niggle’s work if it had any use, suggesting that in this society, art for the sake of beauty is not seen as having any sort of value. Only Atkins, a schoolmaster with less influence than Tompkins, makes an effort to preserve Niggle’s work. He donates a single framed leaf, which hangs in an obscure spot in the town museum until the museum burns down—an act that in itself displays this society’s lack of care for creative offerings.
While Niggle’s work is erased from the collective memory of his old country, the complete, animated, inhabitable version of his masterpiece becomes a kind of equivalent to paradise and is used as a place of convalescence for people who complete their time at the Workhouse. Even Parish, once he finds himself in the world of Niggle’s creation, expresses delight at its beauty, though he previously only showed interest in the painting because of its raw materials. Niggle finds no reward or acclaim for his creative work before his journey, then, but in the paradisal part of his life, its value is profound. In this way, Tolkien suggests that though capturing beauty and producing art in a world of practical demands is difficult and unrewarding, such efforts are often still worthwhile, since art is invaluable on a spiritual level.
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The Value of Art 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.
Before him stood the Tree, his Tree, finished. If you could say that of a Tree that was alive, its leaves opening, its branches growing and bending in the wind that Niggle had so often felt or guessed, and had so often failed to catch. He gazed at the Tree, and slowly he lifted his arms and opened them wide.
“It’s a gift!” he said. He was referring to his art, and also to the result; but he was using the word quite literally.
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.”
