Originality?
Ink it or it's gone." is a common saying in the writer's community. Not just writers, but anyone who is creative respects this norm and knows that the winds of time will wither the rock of their thoughts.
The retention of the originality of an idea makes the very moment of thought a lot more pivotal than the thought itself, and this perturbs me. The point is how fragile an idea can be, that an artist pushes away everything just to capture it, but isn't this madness that one owes for being called an artist?
Let's shelf this question for a while, and talk about time and originality first.
Talking of originality and time as a collective and how its dogmatic virtue conduces a channel of thought that bridges our differences but also bridges our uniqueness, The Ship of Theseus paradox could be the perfect example here. Theseus was the king of Athens, who had earned the throne after facing innumerable hardships. On his journey up the ranks, he had to embark upon numerous voyages on his magnificent ship. Traversing through the boundless ocean, from shore to shore, beheading every demon, conquering every challenge, and proving his mettle. Athenians decided to preserve this vessel as a sign of respect for their king. With time, from the reign of Theseus to that of Demetrius Phalereus the ship at several occasions was renovated. The decaying planks were replaced by fine and fresh timber, the sail was patched up, the mast was engraved with drawings depicting Theseus's journey, and the ship became an emblem of his brave and heroic acts.
But this made several philosophers question that, "The timber is new, the mast is changed so how one be sure, that the Ship of Theseus remains the same?"
Got my point here?
Originalities transcend through time and often demand undeniable changes, which makes us dubious and unsettled regarding our opinion on what's novel and what's not. So isn't the madness of the artist justified?
See, originality or one's opinion on it and expression go hand-in-hand. Expression is a notion that has piqued the minds of numerous scholars, philosophers, and even the plebeian throughout the course of human history. Its dichotomous nature or perhaps, multifarious one, is ladened with ambiguous discernments and several superfluous beliefs, yet it is impossible to give it a go-by because the answer to this madness is to be found in expression; content is to be found in expression. Well, expression is all about deliverance which rides the tandem with the art of reception, but what connects them is perception, and that’s precisely where the greatest artists get it right and etch their names in the pages of history. The ones who don’t are often considered the victims of their time. Let it be Vincent Van Gogh or Nikola Tesla, albeit their art was original and novel, we all know the life they led.
The artist is well aware of how vulnerable a thought is, and how consequential it might be, and to this, they owe their concern of retention. The concern is that this idea that they bear witness to now could be their magnum opus. It’s not the applause or the grandeur that guides them to define their best, but the moment of thought and the act of expression brings a smile to their face.
Time, originality, and opinions are all forgotten by him once he has made the world his stage. He will do his dance, tip his hat, and let the world continue with its old where he brought a new, and we’ll stand there as mere spectators.
Originality is the best form of rebellion.
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