The Q&A: Inside the mesmerising world of Nicola Hicks, the original ‘Saltburn’ sculptor and pioneer of anthropomorphic creations
The film industry’s enduring fascination with heroic, anthropomorphic sculptures spans decades. While a recent instance can be found in Emerald Fennell’s Saltburn, the significance of such inclusions risks being overshadowed by spectacle. Nicola Hicks’ vision, however, delves far deeper than surface-level interpretations.
While they may initially appear somewhat abstract, her creations embody a sense of “otherness” seemingly beyond human grasp. Upon closer inspection, layers of meaning emerge, resonating with unexpected depth. Art often becomes revolutionary when it challenges that which we see, the finer details of our lives becoming more or less in focus in a way that makes us truly think.
As such, Hicks’ world is meticulously crafted, populated by humanised creatures that explore themes of capitalism, exploitation, and societal disparities. Saltburn represents one piece of this intricate puzzle, a poignant addition in a world where wealth and privilege are inherently challenged. Hicks’ work, in its entirety, completely dazzles the spectator, simultaneously commenting on the beauty and brokenness of our reality.
One of her mesmerising creations, appropriately named Banker II, is a bronze minotaur sculpture which stands as just one example of her captivating oeuvre, each piece breathing life into animal forms reimagined with bold intention, offering cathartic exploration and venturing into realms that seem impossible to access without the power of awake-ness.
Far Out had the opportunity to speak with Hicks and discover some previously unrevealed secrets within her intricate world. Read the full interview below.
The Q&A with Nicola Hicks:
Far Out: Your work often features animals and mythological figures. What draws you to these subjects, and what do they represent in your art?
Nicola Hicks: “I’m not sure it’s useful to examine where images and inspiration come from; it’s like trying to analyse feelings. Feelings just rise up, like smells, good and bad. Some people walk along the beach, loving the sun and sand. Still, artists find the walk impossible because each pebble, each cloud, and every nuance of colour in the water is an intensely interesting universe that demands study. I’m not much fun to go for a walk with because I can’t get along at all, constantly held up by moss and leaves or sweetie papers.
“It’s all just so interesting. Public transport is the same; each fold of cloth on a trouser, each face, each micro-human interaction is so fascinating that I risk being punched for staring. That’s what we do: stare, stare, and stare at an animal, thing, or blot, or thought until something new shivers into shape. It’s like humming bits of tune until new music appears. It’s a heady technique for processing the world. My means of analysis is sculpture. For some, it’s poetry or dance. I’m not sure we can choose.”
Can you walk us through your creative process? How do you typically approach a new piece of work?
“As quickly as possible before I get distracted by the next one. I never know quite how things will end up looking; that would be a boring journey. I just hurl myself in and keep alert for when it’s done. I’m not always right and often circle back; that’s the ride.”
What role do you see art playing in society, and how do you hope your work impacts viewers, i.e., the usage of such sculptures in Saltburn?
“I make sculptures for my own selfish reasons. They grow in my studio all around, making connections with each other, failing and succeeding until I run out of space and have to have an exhibition or hire a skip to clear the decks so I can start again.
“I find it hard to connect with the work once it’s gone; I rarely see where they end up. I haven’t seen the film yet; I’ve had rather a lot on. It would be like seeing a piece in someone’s house, very shy-making. It is very gratifying when people are moved and can relate to works, but that is not why I make things.”
How did you initially design Banker II, and what is the central meaning of the sculpture?
“It was during one of the recent financial crises the world’s been going through; terms changed, and my bank threatened to foreclose on my home and studio. I was very low, walking by the river in a London park, wondering what on earth to do. I noticed the enormous number of affluent, carefree individuals dripping with the accoutrements of wealth, getting their steps in and adjusting their gadgets, and I was filled with jealous rage.
“Furious and impotent, I stormed to the studio and took it all out on a piece called ‘A Walk in the Park’, various rather Georgian figures breezing along without a care in the world. The Banker was one of them.”
Can you share any memorable experiences or challenges you’ve encountered throughout your career as an artist?
“Apart from paying the bills? Just the fact that I’ve had this amazing rollercoaster of a life and career, all stemming from my studio and what’s in my head. ‘Lucky’ isn’t a big enough word. The bad times are hard because no one asked you to put yourself in harm’s way, and the good times are so good you can hardly believe they’re happening.”
What advice would you give to aspiring artists who are just starting out in their artistic journey?
“Making art is like playing sport; if you want to be really good, it takes a lot of practice. Feed your mind, really look about you as much as you can, and always pick up the wrong brush for the job. You will have to work much harder, and delicious accidents will happen and speed you on your way. Remember, talent has very little to do with making great work; it’s about having something to say. Don’t give up; work with what you have.”
