I’m talking about theatre; theatre in the most conventional sense, where actors re-enact narratives designed to evoke a reaction from a live crowd. But I could just as easily have been describing the events which take place up and down the country on Saturday and Sunday afternoons, in colossal stadiums and in local parks, watched by millions on a weekly basis.

Despite what many would have you believe, football and theatre really aren’t so disparate. Both have their conventions, their fans, their superstitions and their critics. For example, the ritual of the introduction of the teams which takes place at the beginning of a match is a sort of reverse curtain call for actors; teams emerge, acknowledging their fans before the action plays out, rather than taking their bow after what might end in humiliating defeat. Backstage at the theatre, hundreds of actors still live in fear of mentioning ‘The Scottish Play’. If they happen to let it slip, they must go straight outside, spin three times, spit, swear, and then knock on the stage door before they are allowed to return, lest the spectre of Macbeth place of a curse on the whole production. Footballers have their odd superstitions too; David James had more superstitions than teams played for, and who could forget Laurent Blanc planting his lips on the shiny scalp of Fabien Barthez before every game during the 1998 World Cup? The things actors and footballers will do for ‘luck’ are bemusing to fans of both disciplines.

Both mediums present a struggle, a clash between opponents battling to become victorious, whether pre-scripted or not. The Montagues and the Capulets, or the Reds and the Blues. One side must overcome the other to emerge the winner.There are techniques and schools of thought within both; Constantin Stanislavski believed that actors could learn to convey real emotion by accessing their own bank of emotional memory, while many managers and coaches in football adhere to the belief that making their players practice penalties and set pieces will imprint the action in their muscle memory and make it more easily accessible on the big stage. Johan Cruyff, Helenio Herrera and Sir Alex Ferguson are the theatrical practitioners of football, while Michael Chekhov, Bretolt Brecht and Harold Pinter are the celebrated coaches of great theatre. Magical things happen under their tutelage, and their guidance and teachings will form the basis of teams and stories for centuries to come. Even Andrew Lloyd Webber and Sam Allardyce might have more in common than many realise: their style is strident, loud and brashly effective, and you might sigh if you find yourself having to sit through ninety minutes of it.

There are familiar discourses throughout both disciplines. The ‘magic of the cup’ trope is akin to the ‘rags to riches’ tales that have enthralled audiences when performed on stage for centuries. The football clubs with the rich owners and the exorbitant transfer fees are the pantomime villains, waiting in the wings to lure another young starlet into their clutches. A burgeoning partnership between two strikers is as beguiling and captivating to watch as a flourishing friendship between two characters, or an epic love story that defies the odds. The own goals, sloppy back-passes and goalkeeper errors are the farcical, slapstick element. A through-ball assist is the equivalent of the big reveal at the end of a mystery, the moment the knots are unravelled and everything just makes sense.

What of the player stepping up to take a deciding penalty? This is where the two worlds vastly differ, and can never be compared. You could go to the theatre with the intention of watching the same play for the fifth time, safe in the knowledge that it will end in the same way it always has. The lines will be the same, the inflections, the delivery, the lighting and even the breathing patterns of the cast members are rehearsed to perfection so that audiences at touring productions will see the same show whether they are in Brighton or Birkenhead. The only thing that there is a chance will be different is the cast. In the world of football, the chances of seeing even a slightly similar game twice in a lifetime are slim to none. A fan could go to a game between the same two teams five times and see two wins, two losses and a draw. There might be injuries, penalties, red cards, hat tricks, abysmal errors or moments of magic; it is impossible to know. Whether they are fielding the exact teams in exactly the same formations is irrelevant. No two games are the same, no player can put in an identical performance to his last, no two passes are equal in trajectory and speed, no two goals are equal in magnitude or greatness. They are incomparable. Every act is individual, every movement creates a different outcome and for every outcome there is another opponent to be taken on or record to be broken.

Theatre’s rehearsal process is based entirely upon extracting identical, consistent performances from a cast, whereas the training rituals in football are simply arming their performers with the resources they require to go out on the pitch for ninety minutes and improvise. Tactics and formations combine with imagination and skill, equipping each player with the means to write their own script. As convincing a theatrical performance as there ever was could not match the inimitable anguish or unbridled joy that comes from the unpredictable unfolding of each narrative.

The beauty is in the realisation of the unknown. Perhaps the most famous playwright of all had it right when he said ‘All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players’.

As pioneers of this new medium, the Fantasista artists are always treading new ground; interacting with other football fans in order to gain a little inspiration, finding new ways to share or promote work and gauging the reaction of their followers to particularly popular pieces. Here, three members of the Fantasista team reveal their methods, their inspiration and the way in which the relatively new social platform has revolutionised how they approach their craft.

One of the many ways in which Twitter has helped to transform the way football artists approach their work is by offering their followers an insight into the entire process of creating a piece. Dan Leydon believes in the premise that offering sneak peeks of upcoming projects can heighten interest as well as giving fans and followers a chance to see how a sketch becomes a final piece. “Sometimes I sit and doodle and just upload sketches. Other times I’ll upload a barebones plan of a more detailed piece and will work on it for a few days until it’s finished.” Tracking the evolution of a piece of work and allowing followers to watch it come to life can amplify the attention a particular project receives. “If people aren’t interested then my artwork is going nowhere!” says Dan.

In sharing his work on Twitter, Dan actually landed his first job as a digital football artist. “Backpage Press, the publishers [of Graham Hunter’s book, “Barca: The Making of the Greatest Team in the World”] got in touch at Graham’s request, and all of a sudden I had my first proper illustration job.” The interest in his work gave Dan the confidence to pursue football art further; he is now the CEO of artwork and clothing brand, Footynews.

With his work featuring in FourFourTwo magazine and in the newly-launched National Football Museum, Steve Welsh sees sharing his works-in-progress on Twitter more of a ‘damage limitation exercise’. Using Twitter as a gauge, Steve can interact with football fans and discover what they would most like to see from his next design. “For me, there is nothing worse than spending hours or days on a particular piece, only to find out that it’s not quite right. Fans often prefer to see their heroes in a particular kit, or with a certain hairstyle. In some cases, it can be something as inconsequential as socks up or socks down.” The details might sound fussy, but Steve has learned from experience that these tiny details can be the difference between a design working or not. Such real-time access to opinions has become paramount in the creation of many pieces that football artists undertake.

The feedback of anonymous users sitting at a computer can also be much more frank and honest than asking a friend or colleague, says Steve. “Since it’s often complete strangers giving feedback, people will tend to be a little more candid with their criticism. Personally I prefer it that way. It’s from your mistakes that you learn most about things, not your successes. Twitter helps to flag those mistakes up straight away and forces you to address them. Often people are too kind, or worried about hurting your feelings when it comes to giving feedback, but on Twitter, if people think your illustration of Roberto Baggio looks a bit like a pirate with strange eyes, they will just tell you.”

Richard Swarbrick’s distinctive and instantly recognisable style has seen his art used in a recent national television advert for The Sun, and his unique and beautiful animations take weeks of hard work, but the work he shares on Twitter is often an instant reaction to a goal or another contentious incident. Rather than providing followers with regular updates showing the progression of a piece, many of Richard’s pieces are up in the minutes immediately after an event. “I think my record is ten minutes but it’s usually about twenty to thirty,” he says of his famously quick-fire pieces.

Where many digital artists draw on feedback and criticism from followers, Richard tries not to let the opinions of the masses influence his work too heavily. “I’d be lying if I said I don’t occasionally cast a narcissistic eye in that direction, but the initial motivation is a desire to create and share art.” Second-guessing what will be popular and what won’t seems to be an impossible task; the opinions of rival football fans are divided and contrary at the best of times, making it difficult to tell which pieces will strike a chord with the biggest number of fans.

Dan, Steve and Richard all agree that being a football artist has meant that they view the ‘beautiful game’ through a slightly different lens. “My favourite element of modern football is the soap opera plotlines that run in the background; Fergie and Wenger going head to head or Guardiola losing it with Mourinho through a press conference. I watch these with heightened interest because I think these are the driving force behind the game, these human stories. If I can communicate a part of that tension through illustration then I know I’m doing my job well,” says Dan.

Steve doesn’t believe that his work has necessarily changed how he views football, but has rather given him a higher level of appreciation for the sport and its players. “It has certainly opened my eyes to players I was not previously aware of,” he says. “It’s given me an appreciation of football and footballers outside of my own team; discovering how stories and back stories merge into one another has been one of the most interesting and exciting aspects of any ‘research’ I do. It’s often easy to get so wrapped up in the articles you read that you forget to put time aside to do the illustrations themselves, but then that’s what I love most about football – the ability to become totally and completely immersed in it.”

For Richard, the immediacy of his drawings means that he can’t concentrate on games like a spectator might be able to. “I’m so focused on the drawings that I’m not really watching or enjoying the game at all,” he says. In addition to not always being able to focus on big games, Richard, a big Spurs fan, sometimes finds himself having to draw scenarios or moments that leave a bitter taste in his mouth. Last year, he pledged to draw every single goal from one of the North London derbies against Arsenal. “Arsenal won 5 – 2 and I nearly ran out of red paint, but I gritted my teeth and got through it.”

With many football artists having their own club allegiances, does it make a difference when painting a rival? Dan doesn’t believe so. “As a Liverpool fan, sometimes people expect me to hate United, but I really admire their great players too. I love football first and foremost, and if someone can play it to an inspiring level then they have my respect.” However, in working on his Homesick Project, a celebration of old football grounds across the country, Steve, who supports Middlesbrough, says he had to think long and hard before he included Sunderland’s Roker Park in the project. “I felt excluding it would have contradicted the aim of the project,” he said.

Richard also believes that football allegiances affect how his work is received. “Manchester United seem to get more interest than any other team and, I’m sure it’s just a coincidence, but my most popular pictures seem to always be of goals scored against Newcastle!”

Personal allegiances aside, how do football artists decide which player, goals or moments to draw, if not doing it purely for popularity? In a world where we are offered slow-motion replays of every kick from five different angles, how do you pick the best? Dan simply picks up his pen and lets inspiration strike, choosing to remain in the realm where popular opinion and his own personal taste intersect. “I just start doodling a lot of the time. When the pencil is on the paper you stumble across things you wouldn’t have by just thinking or planning.”

Steve prefers to produce pieces that invoke a strong reaction or emotion. “I suppose for me, it has to be a player or moment that resonates most strongly with the widest possible group.” His best example is art from Italia ’90 pitted against work from Euro ’92. “One conjures up a huge number of feelings and memories, whilst the other leaves me cold and was largely forgettable. Of course, the result of those two competitions plays a part in how we remember them, but it’s the collective ‘sense’ of something that I like to explore most.” The same rule works for players. “Players with a bit of an edge to them are always more interesting to capture than the model pro. Let’s face it, if you had to choose between drawing Moore, Lineker and Matthews, or Maradona, Best and Cantona, there’s no competition really.”

It is this sense of shared memories and moments within a community that makes Twitter such a powerful resource for digital artists. One image of one memorable goal can strike a chord and be shared between fans across the world within seconds, transporting them back to where they were and how they felt at the moment when the ball crossed the line or that whistle was blown. Twitter has opened up a whole new realm of inspiration for football artists to explore, and fans of both football and art are invited to share in the process, every step of the way.

After capturing Bale’s sensational showing, Swarbrick turned his hand to an El Clasico commission for Sky Sports, among other elegant clips that featured on television and swept social media. More than a year on from the Bale video, he – along with friend and business partner Christopher Platt – is turning his experience into a project to put football artists like himself on the map.

The idea for their upcoming art exhibition came about in a pub on a September evening. Dubbed ‘Fantasista – The Art of the Number 10’, after the Italian term for a playmaker, it draws inspiration from famed number tens, like the imperious Italian midfielder Roberto Baggio. “I’d initially had the idea to do an exhibition of my own work, which Christopher was keen to help me with,” Richard explains. “Then the conversation led to us making this an exhibition for football artists. I was aware of 5 or 6 other artists that I really wanted to get involved.”

One by one, a number of other superlative artists joined the fold, including Dan Leydon, Zoran Lucic, Steve Welsh and Stanley Chow; artists who have had their work featured by countless publications and football clubs. Yet there are still so many football fans yet to be exposed to their drawings, paintings, sculptures and videos. “From my point of view, apart from Richard’s work, I had no idea that this genre existed,” says Chris.

The concept is simple: a celebration of contemporary football art and an exhibition inspired by the rapid rise of the ‘football artist’ in the digital age. While still in its early stages, the project has generated huge interest. With a website and a new animation from Richard himself in the pipeline, there is plenty to keep an eye out for between now and the exhibition, which will take place in spring of 2013 in a central London venue to be announced in the near future. If all goes to plan, the exhibition will have an extended run, will travel to Manchester and perhaps even beyond. There has already been talk of taking the project to the 2014 World Cup in Brazil.

Wherever the wind takes it, it will undoubtedly be an unmissable event.

In the formations and styles adapted by the teams we truly love, there is architecture and a design to football which we can see for ourselves on a daily basis, but rarely truly appreciate. Consider Barcelona’s honeycomb triangular passing, the modern midfield diamond and the infamous pyramid. All have shapes and structure, whose purpose is practical rather than visual, but there are few abiding images like a formation diagram with a simple 4-4-2. It’s like a blueprint, and so often a choice of formation can be congruent with success or indeed failure.

The first non-biographical football book I had the pleasure of reading was Jonathan Wilson’s imperious Inverting the Pyramid, a book which traces – in superb detail – the evolution of formations throughout time. Up until then, I hadn’t truly appreciated the importance of positioning, shape and space. Like the artists involved in Fantasista, the great tacticians of the game understand the importance of design.

Most generations of football these days have a stylistic reference point. Tiki taka conjures imagery of fluidity. Its forefather, Total Football, does likewise, with an element of Tetris-like
cohesion thrown in for good measure. Throughout everything, I’ve always been amazed by how crucial symmetry is. It’s only common sense, of course, that one side of a squad should be as strong and as densely populated as the other, but it is such a mimesis of life itself – where symmetry is so highly valued that it can denote physical attractiveness in others. Balance, as with most things, is so crucial.

Like any art form, there are widely accepted notions of good and bad styles of football. These days, the poles have been firmly set, with contemporary Spain setting the bar for the good and Stoke City having earned – to their dismay – the status of spokesperson for so-called ‘antifootball’. I can think of no teams so respectively lauded and derided for the beauty or lack thereof of their approach as the aforementioned two have been in my lifetime. (It’s perhaps a testament to my inherent tendency to root for the underdog that this accepted view only turns me off Barcelona and Spain, and fills me with sympathy for Stoke.)

Generally, I haven’t got much time for considerations on what constitutes ‘attractive’ football and what constitutes ‘bad’ football as a matter of fact as opposed to simply opinion. It’s a game, isn’t it? Surely good versus bad is purely an issue of winning versus losing. The notion that there are right ways and wrong ways to win (without the obvious moral/fair play element) has always confounded me. Football is only improved by the vast number of ways in which to play – who are we to declare what the right and wrong ways are?

But putting aside cultural, sociological and – heck – even political influences on the commitment of certain clubs and nations to particular philosophies – just aesthetically speaking, what makes a throttled long ball towards a single striker any less appealing than a short pass sideways to the nearest outfield player?

Beauty is, as ever, in the eye of the beholder. I’m the kind of person who’ll look an artistic masterpiece and wonder what the fuss is all about. I don’t even see the allure of Barcelona, or Spain’s world-beating ideology. So I put the question to some of our artists: what is the best form of football, strictly visually speaking?

Zoran Lucić isn’t a fan of tiki-taka. “Tiki-taka is the ugliest football I’ve ever seen. That is the
death of football for me. Somebody said that it’s catenaccio in disguise and that’s my opinion too.” For him, the most beautiful form of football is closer to Real Madrid under Jose Mourinho, and Germany under Joachim Low – “…a lot of dynamics, running, goal chances. Tiki-taka is for putting audience to sleep.”

Nor is Barcelona’s possession-choking style the ideal for Richard Swarbrick: “I personally find the most attractive style of football to be the way the 1999 treble winning Man United team played. I like to think Spurs played that way for brief periods under Harry Redknapp, particularly in the run in the Champions league. If tiki-taka is the football equivalent of baseline tennis then my preferred style is more like serve-volley.”

I was surprised at the willingness to reject tiki-taka. As students and patrons and providers of art, I consider these artists to have far better eyes for this sort of thing than I do. It’s all objective, though, really.

Steve Welsh’s response was gorgeous in itself. Style ranks low on his priorities when it comes to the beauty in the beautiful game. “For me it has to be an evening match during winter. Especially if there has been a bit of rain earlier in the day. What I find most appealing isn’t the match itself but the expectancy beforehand. Particularly as both teams are called in just before kick-off.

“That moment when all you see before you is a brilliant green pitch, soaked in water and bathed in floodlights, everything framed perfectly. That kind of view has always bristled with expectancy for me and still does (less so from seated stadiums but still there nonetheless).”

So there you have it.

You can find beauty in anything.

It has quickly evolved into something significantly more than that.

At a Central London venue, in Spring of 2013, Fantasista will bring together many of the finest football artists from around the world for the launch of our first showcase exhibition Fantasista – The Art of the Number 10. The Fantasista 2013 exhibition, will be a celebration of contemporary football art inspired by the rapid rise of the ‘football artist’ in the digital age.

Our focus is currently on the launch event, but with interest from around the country and overseas we are also planning a longer run open to the public which we will announce in due course.

All the artists involved were invited by us to exhibit at Fantasista 2013, but we want to encourage anyone that is interested in taking part or being involved to contact us.

Even if you can’t be part of the exhibition itself, we will share the best of your work.

For the next 6 months we’ll be working with our partners, to make sure the Fantasista exhibition is a truly exciting event and provides the platform our artists deserve.

I will also be continuing to promote Richard directly, and manage his ever growing requests for commissions allowing him to concentrate on his animations and artwork.