In William Blake’s painting The Ghost of a Flea (1820) a huge muscled figure fills the frame. He steps forward, the right side of his body towards the viewer. In one outstretched hand he holds a bleeding bowl (used to catch the blood released during bloodletting) made from an acorn. In the other, a curved thorn stands in for a knife. His tongue protrudes from between his teeth and his eyes bulge from his head. His ears are pointed with frills, or gills, almost reptilian.

White paint dots his eye, so that he appears to be both looking ahead and looking at us. He is stood on a stage between curtains with a backdrop of stars, one falling in a blaze of light. He is at once light and heavy, balanced on his toes as if he is engaged in a dance, or creeping towards his victim.

Painted in thick brown tempera (a pigment bound in water and egg, or oil and egg) and cracked with age, it is gold leaf that gives the painting its light. It’s in the creature’s muscles, the stars that fall behind him, the rim of the acorn bowl, the curtains he parts with his bulk and the boards of the stage that break into undulations at his step. The whole effect is one of movement, and of a creature occupying a space that is both vast and framed. But the painting is tiny – a rectangular hardwood panel measuring only 8.42 by 6.23 inches.

This article is part of Rethinking the Classics. The stories in this series offer insightful new ways to think about and interpret classic books and artworks. This is the canon – with a twist.

The Ghost of the Flea is a development of an original sketch from a group of visionary heads (chalk and pencil drawings of historical and mythical characters seen in visions) that Blake had drawn for watercolour artist and........

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