Notes On Originality

The above was an inquiry/statement by the user Augmented Man that was posted last week. I think the issue of inspiration versus plagiarism, or originality versus the derivative, is a topic of great concern. In fact, it may very well be the grand issue, the great divider, the absolute question—as technology provides more and more the capacity to manufacture, replicate, duplicate, and mimic a large swath of human effort, in just mere minutes, often producing astonishing aesthetic reach whose synthetic origins most would be blind to.

The editing is so invisible, that the production quality can rival that of what is produced by human hands. Of course, I am referring to Artificial Intelligence, and I have written about Artificial Intelligence-as-art exactly twice, in the A.I. Dilemma, and Vir Heroicus Sublimis:

One positive outcome of A.I. intelligence, especially when its use is applied to making art (I used ‘art’ in the broadest possible sense), is the newfound feeling of solidarity among many artists (though, not all!) about the dangers, the insult, the origin problems, and the possible ethical conundrums that A.I. presents.

And, above all, it is forcing many artists and writers to ask some difficult but prescient questions about the nature of their own practice—if A.I. is sourcing whole historical canons of work to produce its content, is that all too different from what writers and artists have been doing all along? Trouncing through the pages of history, tearing out, folding up what we wish to keep, and putting these pages in our back pockets, so we may juice them for all they are worth?

I am no defender of A.I. as art whatsoever, but the conversation it has started, I sense, is a profound one to be among creatives. Creatives never much had a rival creator in the true existential sense of rivalry. Surely, there have been technological advancements that have irked those whose industries it impacts, but never have we seen the likes of an all-encompassing tool like A.I. There were no other bodies against which to wage a culture war. Now, of course, we do: and it is the machines that can do it all.

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Of course, this is not what augmented man means when he asks about the original versus the derivative. I only mention the A.I. subject to offer another context, possibly a source, a fountain from which questions, craft-based questions, like Augmented Man’s note from above can spring, and those questions, as well as their potential answers, can be seen in greater relief.

For now, some considerations of originality and plagiarism
from a purely craft perspective. One observation is that writing, in my estimation, is the craft that maintains the highest expectation of originality. I don’t know why this is—but this expectation is rare among the fine arts, or music and film. Originality is celebrated when found, but it is often the writers who face the brunt of criticism in the vein of derivation.

I don’t believe one can create originality. Even worse, I don’t believe that originality for the sake of being original is all that worth it. In some contexts, originality is the concern of the amateur. The veteran craftsmen, whose work is long, are rarely concerned with whether they are making work that achieves a singularity. I believe, like I mentioned with A.I., that the road of human creation is also long—and it is now, right now, more than ever, that the artist, the poet, the writer, the filmmaker, etc. can look at that road, that bucket of creation, and pull whatever it is they wish to from it.

What is the use of being original, if everyone is being original in the same way? This question could have been posed to the countless number of art students who have dyed their hair blue, ostensibly for the fleeting notion of being iconoclastic. If the artist (whatever the craft) can put aside the notion of originality, even momentarily, or better yet for good, they can resume themselves, their state of focus, perhaps even a state of meditation, and simply get back to work.

I do not mean we should produce a world filled with copycats, facsimiles, and reproductions. But what would be equally catastrophic would be to create a world where originality is so sought after that the arts become a circus of wild playthings, and inane ramblings, all for the sake of originality. As I mentioned earlier, I do not believe an artist finds originality. Some of our greatest creatives had long periods of intense, unshakeable influence. Bob Dylan of course, had Woody Guthrie. Jimi Hendrix had Little Richard. Hunter S. Thompson had Ernest Hemingway.

Originality is the elusive, shimmering illusion—the closer you attempt to get, the further away it seems. Originality, the shimmering illusion finds you, it is my belief. The best one can do is to work, and, ironically, not fearsome residue of influence in your work—the evidence of push and pull entanglement with works of the past. I believe it is better to run towards your influences, as to inspect them, nurture them, in order to work yourself to the other side.

For much of craft, and in the broader world, we accept mimicry as a valid form of education. We do this in language, we accept it in music, in education, and apprenticeships of all kinds. If only the artist could withstand the temptation to find their signature style (which is largely a marketing concern, not a craft one), not enter into the marketplace, and continue to mimic themselves, then we may continue to have a more robust dialogue with not only ourselves but with the great works of the past.

As for plagiarism, it has been pointed out already, that this is an effort of fraudulence, in the verbatim. This seems much more a concern for the writer than any other craft. I have certainly re-painted paintings verbatim to understand them better. Musicians, of course, are dead set on playing pieces verbatim to what is written in music. Because typing, ‘button pressing’, requires no particular effort (I can type the word “flattery” just as well as Hemingway), there is no accomplishment in that physical act. However, it was Hunter S. Thompson who wrote the Hemingway novel verbatim, just to get the rhythm, and to be more understanding of the writer that came before him.

Originality, clarity of voice, and distinction in craft will come, for most, after years of agony, mimicry, and the many required years of failing—to become ourselves. That is if originality comes at all. We are as obsessed with originality as we are with youth, which is tragic, as they are so often, for the lot of us, very mutually exclusive.

Thank you to Augmented Man for the thoughtful post.

JSV
2025

Judson Stacy Vereen is the author of American Pleasure, 62 Poems from Judson Vereen, and Like A Bird Knows To Sing. He is also a staff contributor to Wrong Speak, where he publishes a bi-monthly opinion column. His substack page is Dispatches from Bohemian Splendor.

Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author's own.