more thoughts on originality

Sometimes thoughts happen in memes. We're all inundated with information each day, so it stands to reason we hear echos of (and ourselves echo) common thoughts. One of my favorite Twitter feeds is from Seth Gordon, and while this might be somewhat unexpected given my utter lack of business acumen, I love the concise nature of his blog and that each entry has substance. Today's post touches on some of the very things I posted yesterday:

http://sethgodin.typepad.com/seths_blog/2011/03/originality.html

So what is originality really? How does this translate into saying whether or not an artist has real merit? I've posted many, many times that I feel Damien Hurst is the greatest art thief of our era. I don't know if the man is truly capable (or even all that worried) about producing an original thought, yet he is undeniably one of the most successful living artists around, and one whose work will be responded to (and against), for decades to come.

I long ago freed myself from the pressure of trying to invent some "new" form of art. I don't make any secrets about my references, just ask me. Yet I am alive in my time and experiencing it through the distorted lens of my own emotional, cultural, spiritual and economic realities, so the work I make, -even with its obvious nods to this or that, is by definition a translation; an interpretation. The danger of something being truly "new" is that it quickly becomes merely novel, and novelty has very little staying power. My wife bought the boxed set of Rogers and Hammerstein's musicals (more on that in another post), and it is no coincidence that all musicals begin by playing a quick version of all the upcoming songs before the story begins. We respond to familiarity; we fear what is truly new.

It's hard for the "wow factor" to sustain. Thanks to the internet, I get exposed to all kinds of art I would never have access to living where I do. I've noticed this trend, that something will initially grab me and I'll think, "wow, that's really incredible" only to re-visit the same image a day or two later and perceive it as flat and derivative.

Face it, it is hard to think your own thoughts, much less come up with an original one. I know a lot of well-educated people and very few of them are as interesting as you might hope. When we free ourselves from the pressure of anticipating whether or not what we have to say will be perfect/brilliant/original/clever, we actually begin to open ourselves to real creativity; to authenticity.

The only way to work in the studio (for me) is to go in open. I've got to be able to listen, because sometimes where I think I painting should go is not where it needs to go. Being able to respond quickly to those impulses, -those instincts, is key to getting into "flow." Often, I am most myself when I lose myself. That goes for the work as well. When I let it lead me, rather than trying to control it, it is often much more virtuosic. Like good jazz, the artist must constantly build technique, and in the moment of execution allow those honed instincts to take over.