You’re Not Original—And Neither Is Anyone Else
The writer Jonathan Lethem has said that when people call something “original” nine out of ten times they just don’t know the references or the original sources involved.
What a good artist understands is that nothing comes from nowhere. All creative work builds on what came before. Nothing is completely original.
It’s right there in the Bible: “There is nothing new under the sun.” (Ecclesiastes 1:9)
Whenever you start writing, or painting, or making something, because some creative idea has struck, there’s a constant dialogue that plays in your head. It asks you if you are copying someone from what you have consumed, if this is your original idea. Your ideas are influenced by what you consume – the books read, the films watched, the experiences lived. Every “original” idea, in reality, is a patchwork of these fragments, a mix of what’s already been absorbed.
So what is original? It doesn’t come out of thin air; it’s born from the fragments of ideas consumed. The more you consume, the more you create. It’s almost like an echo-chamber, here all the ideas bounce and resonate. The more niche the influences, the more hidden the echoes, and consequently, the more unique the resulting creation.
We keep telling ourselves and others to “accept ourselves” to get rid of this thing called “imposter syndrome” that gnaws at our self-belief. But is that simple? Not really. Why else would we go off to this relentless search for a new identity, new style, new ways of expressions, new ways of being? We chase that “something special”, “that unique stamp” but we’re often paralyzed by unrealistic expectations, by the impossible pursuit of perfection.
Perfectionism is an unforgiving criticism, it’s that voice in your head which keeps telling you how you’re not enough. Almost half of the artists that you admire were/are unsatisfied with their work. This imposter syndrome fuels a constant reinvention, a desperate search for that elusive “original” piece, that perfect stamp of self.
Now this relentless reinvention, this constant striving, ironically leads to a scarcity of true originality. We’re so busy chasing the next “new” thing that we forget to appreciate the beauty of the process itself. And for many of us, the process is where the true joy lies. It’s the solitary act of creation, the quiet moment spent in between mind and medium, unburdened by the clamor of external validation.
If you like creating new things, you might also have this constant fear of being a sequel, a mere imitation of someone else’s art. As John Boskovich wisely articulated, “As long as you do not plagiarize, it’s okay to be influenced.” We need to find the balance between inspiration and imitation, between honoring the past and forging a new path.
In your creative mind, the imposter voice and the creative voice are locked in a constant battle. The creative voice tells you, you can do it while the imposter voice screams that it’s nothing original. It’s a struggle we all face, a constant negotiation between the echoes of our influences and of our own originality.
You and I are echo chambers, filled with the fragments of everything that we have consumed. The key is not to silence the echoes, but to arrange them in a new and compelling symphony, a symphony that resonates with our own unique voice.
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