I was influenced by surrealist poetry and painting as were

Hear the words of Kenneth Koch, who spoke with clarity about the roots of his art: “I was influenced by surrealist poetry and painting as were thousands of other people, and it seems to me to have become a part of the way I write, but it’s not.” In this reflection, there lies the paradox of influence. A poet is shaped by what they read, what they see, what they love—but influence is not identity. The brush of surrealism passed across Koch’s spirit, yet he did not become its servant. He absorbed its colors, its distortions, its freedom, but he forged them anew into something that belonged wholly to him. Thus, he teaches us that art is not the mere inheritance of tradition, but the transformation of it.

The ancients knew this well. The great Roman poets were deeply influenced by the Greeks—Virgil by Homer, Horace by Sappho. Yet none would say they were simply imitators. They carried the old fire into new vessels, reshaping it with their own voice. So too with Koch and his encounter with surrealist poetry and painting: he drank from their fountain, but he did not build his home there. The influence seeped into him, yes, but when his hand moved, the words were his own, not copies of Breton or Éluard, not reflections of Dalí or Miró.

Consider the story of Picasso. Though he helped give birth to Cubism, his art bore traces of African masks, Iberian sculpture, and Renaissance mastery. He was influenced by many, yet he was not reducible to any single influence. His genius lay not in denying the currents that shaped him, but in transforming them until they became unmistakably his own. In this same way, Koch admits that surrealism touched him, but he insists, with honesty and strength: my writing is not surrealism—it is me.

The origin of Koch’s words lies in his deep engagement with modernist traditions. Surrealism, with its dreamlike juxtapositions and irrational leaps, fascinated an entire generation of poets. Many imitated it slavishly, producing echoes rather than true voices. But Koch, a member of the New York School, allowed it to flow into him without becoming captive to it. His confession is an act of independence: yes, he was influenced, but he remained free, forging a style rooted in play, wit, and human experience rather than strict allegiance to any school.

This teaching burns with significance for all who create. Influence is inescapable—we are all shaped by what we encounter. But the danger lies in becoming a mere echo, repeating the rhythms of others without adding our own breath. True art requires both humility and courage: the humility to admit the power of influence, and the courage to transcend it. To say, as Koch did, that surrealism became part of him but is not him is to affirm the individuality of the artist, the sanctity of personal voice.

The lesson is this: embrace influences, but do not be consumed by them. Learn from every source—ancient and modern, foreign and familiar. Let them enrich your spirit. But when you write, when you paint, when you create, let the work carry your own breath, your own fingerprints, your own soul. For art that merely imitates is hollow, but art that transforms influence into originality is eternal.

Practical steps follow. Read widely, beyond your comfort, and let those influences flow into you. Study techniques, schools, and traditions, but do not bind yourself to them. Write, paint, or compose in your own way, allowing the influences to echo but not dominate. Reflect often on your voice: ask not “Whom am I imitating?” but “What am I becoming through what I have absorbed?” In this way, you will find yourself, even as you stand on the shoulders of giants.

Thus, Kenneth Koch’s words endure as a beacon: influence is not identity. Surrealism touched him, as it touched many, but it did not define him. It became part of the soil from which his poetry grew, but the blossom was uniquely his. So it must be with us all: to honor our influences, but to rise above them, until our work speaks not as an echo, but as a voice distinct, strong, and alive for generations to come.