Some thoughts on the topic of "originality," after a recent conversation with a new friend.
We talked about how much pressure there is to innovate, to do something not done before, to be "original" within one's craft. And yet, when the conversation shifted toward the content we most enjoy, originality hardly seemed a thought. Curious.
It seems to me that originality hinges on unknowable metrics and impossible standards. Here's what I mean: whether something comes off as original to any given person is wholly dependent on the viewer's knowledge and experiences. What to me seems original may, to another more versed in the matter, come off as old-hat or even cliche. It's entirely subjective.
Nothing is created or expressed in a vacuum. We all create as a product of our influences, and add to the existing history of our field. Doing something that's never been done before has no inherent value, aside from fleeting novelty. And sure, there is something to be said about being overly derivative. In such a case, one seeks to pass off the work of another as their own contribution to history, without allowing the material to be translated through their own perspectives. That's no good, but is a bit tangential to the conversation at hand.
Rather, true originality comes from something having come from your unique hand or voice. What is more individual than your experiences? There exist millions of pieces similar to those I've created, and the same goes for a million love songs, poems, woodworking projects, or loaves of ciabatta (insert your own craft too).
The value of these things comes not in them being solely original, but in them being meaningful acts by a person who, by nature, is original—it's something you are, not something you do.