Art as Transformative and Dangerous Force in Self-Portrait with Nothing
The Premise: Art That Wants to Be Real
The novel opens with an epigraph from Tomas Tranströmer: “All sketches wish to be real.” This single line frames the entire thematic engine of Self-Portrait with Nothing. In Aimee Pokwatka’s world, art is not merely representational—it is generative. Ula Frost’s portraits do not just depict their subjects; they summon alternate versions of those subjects from parallel universes, making the “sketch” literally real. This transformation is both wondrous and catastrophic, and the novel spends its length exploring the moral weight of that power.
The central claim of the theme is that artistic creation can alter reality in ways that are deeply personal and often destructive. The act of painting becomes an act of world-building, but the worlds it builds are not always safe. The same brushstroke that brings a beloved alternate self into existence can also tear a family apart, drive a collector to regret, and ultimately lead to violence and death. The novel refuses to celebrate this power uncritically; instead, it asks whether the transformative potential of art is worth its cost.
The Danger of Portraits: Victor Morgan and the Cult of Frost
The first sustained evidence of art’s danger comes through the backstory of Victor Morgan, a painter who commissioned a Frost portrait and lived to regret it. In a rare interview, Morgan stated that there was nothing in his life he would ever regret more, and he refused to discuss the painting’s outcome. Months later, his body was found decomposing in his flat, the portrait slashed to shreds beside him. The novel does not confirm that the portrait caused his death, but the implication is clear: the alternate version of Morgan that the painting summoned—or the knowledge of that version—was unbearable.
This episode establishes a pattern. After Morgan’s death, Frost accepted commissions only by mail, and the letters she received came from all over the world, thousands per year. The cult following that grew around her work was characterized by a “distracted quality,” with believers so immersed in imagined worlds that they wandered into traffic. Detective Marchand, who investigates Frost’s disappearance, dismisses these stories as fantasy, yet he himself becomes haunted by an image of an alternate version of himself—an architect living in an A-frame house with fluffy white rugs. The danger here is not just physical but psychological: art has the power to make people dissatisfied with their own reality, to make them long for versions of themselves that do not exist.
The Transformative Power: Self-Portrait with Nothing and the Multiplication of Ulas
The novel’s central transformative act is the creation of Self-Portrait with Nothing, a painting that depicts a young Ula holding an infant. As Ula explains to Pepper, she began the painting as a way to return to a moment she could never revisit in life—the moment when she held her daughter. But as she painted, she realized she was not painting herself; she was painting a version of herself who existed elsewhere. That version “showed up” in the real world, and the painting became the first of many.
This is the novel’s most explicit demonstration of art’s transformative power. The painting does not merely represent an alternate self; it creates that self. The Ula who emerges from the painting is a real, breathing person with her own memories and desires. Over the years, Ula painted many self-portraits, each one summoning another version of herself. By the time Pepper encounters them, there are nine Ulas hiding in a slaughterhouse, each with distinct quirks and physical deterioration. The act of painting has multiplied a single person into a small army of selves, all of them sharing the same origin but diverging in experience.
This transformation is not neutral. The Ulas are not perfect copies; they age, they crumble, they argue. One Ula, referred to as “Number One,” disappears entirely. The multiplication of selves becomes a burden, not a gift. Ula herself admits she painted many versions of herself out of loneliness, but the result is a fractured identity that she cannot control. The art that was meant to fill a void instead creates a chaos that threatens to consume her.
The Climax: Destruction as a Double-Edged Sword
The novel’s climax hinges on the question of what to do with these paintings. When Pepper and the Ulas retrieve the hidden portraits from the crypt beneath the church, they face a choice: preserve the art or destroy it. The Everett Group, a secretive collection of powerful men, believes that destroying a portrait could have a catastrophic effect—perhaps even unraveling the universe. Iphigenia, a former collector, warns Pepper of this danger. Yet the Ulas themselves believe that destruction is the only way to send the alternate selves back to their own universes.
Pepper’s decision to destroy the portraits is both an act of violence and an act of mercy. She gives each Ula her own portrait, explaining that destruction may send them home. When she prepares to destroy Blue’s portrait, she is effectively choosing to erase a version of her mother—a version she has come to know and care for. The novel does not offer a clean resolution. The destruction is uncertain; no one knows exactly what will happen. But it is also necessary, because the alternative—leaving the portraits intact—would allow the Everett Group to exploit the power for their own ends, and would leave the Ulas trapped in a deteriorating existence.
This moment crystallizes the theme’s complexity: art is transformative, but transformation is not always beneficial. The same power that can bring a loved one into existence can also be used to manipulate, control, and destroy. The novel suggests that the ethical use of art requires a willingness to let go of it, even when that means losing something precious.
Complexity and Contradiction: Art as Love and Harm
The novel refuses to paint art as purely good or purely evil. Ula’s paintings are born from loneliness and love—she paints herself because she cannot bear to be alone, and she paints Pepper because she wants to hold her daughter again. Yet those same paintings cause harm: they create beings who suffer, they attract dangerous collectors, and they ultimately lead to Ula’s death. The contradiction is embodied in the title Self-Portrait with Nothing: the “nothing” is Pepper, the daughter who was never supposed to exist in this universe, but who becomes the novel’s moral center.
Pepper herself is a product of art—she is the “nothing” that Ula painted into being, though the novel leaves ambiguous whether she is an alternate version or the original. Her existence is a testament to art’s transformative power, but it is also a source of pain for Ula, who cannot reconcile the daughter she has with the daughter she lost. The novel suggests that art can be both a lifeline and a trap, and that the creator’s intentions do not determine the outcome.
Character and Symbol Connections
The theme is woven through the novel’s characters and symbols. Pepper Rafferty is the reluctant inheritor of Ula’s legacy; her scientific training clashes with the mystical reality of the portraits, and she must decide whether to preserve or destroy them. Ula Frost is the creator whose art spirals out of control, while the multiple Ulas represent the fragmentation of identity that art can cause. Ike provides a grounding presence, reminding Pepper of the ordinary world she is fighting to protect. Scott Morrow embodies the exploitative side of art—he is a journalist who wants to expose Frost’s secrets for his own gain. Tilda Hogan represents the human cost of Ula’s obsession; her estrangement from her sister is a direct result of Ula’s artistic choices. Blue is one of the alternate Ulas, and her fate underscores the stakes of Pepper’s decision.
Symbols reinforce the theme. The self-portrait with nothing is the literal embodiment of art’s power to create and destroy. The spider motif appears in the earring found at the murder scene and in the spiders that swarm the garage, suggesting the web of consequences that art weaves. The Polish coin appears in the van where Pepper nearly destroys a portrait, linking the act of creation to the mundane world of chance and exchange. The blue envelopes that carry letters to Frost represent the longing for connection that drives her art—and the impossibility of that connection.
Study Questions and Answers
1. How does the epigraph “All sketches wish to be real” set up the novel’s treatment of art?
The epigraph establishes that art is not passive; it has an inherent desire to become tangible. In the novel, this desire is literalized: Ula’s portraits summon alternate selves into existence. The epigraph also hints at the danger—if sketches wish to be real, then the act of creation is an act of will that can have unintended consequences.
2. What does Victor Morgan’s story reveal about the danger of Frost’s portraits?
Morgan’s story shows that the portraits can cause profound regret and psychological harm. He publicly stated he regretted the portrait more than anything in his life, and his death—with the portrait slashed—suggests that the alternate self he encountered was unbearable. His case also leads Frost to restrict commissions to mail, indicating that she herself recognized the danger.
3. How does the creation of Self-Portrait with Nothing transform Ula’s life?
The painting brings a version of Ula into the world, marking the first time her art literally creates a new self. This event leads to a cascade of self-portraits, each summoning another Ula, until she is surrounded by multiple versions of herself. The transformation is both a fulfillment of her loneliness and a source of chaos, as the Ulas deteriorate and conflict with one another.
4. Why does Pepper decide to destroy the portraits, and what does this decision suggest about the ethics of art?
Pepper destroys the portraits because she believes it is the only way to send the alternate Ulas back to their own universes and to prevent the Everett Group from exploiting the power. Her decision suggests that art’s transformative power must be handled with care; sometimes the ethical choice is to let go of a creation, even if it means losing something beautiful.
5. In what ways does the novel complicate the idea that art is purely beneficial or purely harmful?
The novel shows that art can be both a source of love and a source of destruction. Ula paints out of loneliness and love, but her paintings create beings who suffer and attract dangerous forces. The same portrait that brings a daughter into existence also leads to Ula’s death. The novel refuses to offer a simple moral judgment, instead suggesting that the value of art depends on how it is used and what one is willing to sacrifice for it.