The Illusion of Originality: Reflections on the Continuum of Creativity
Only God is Original ? Or is it?
The proposition that nothing is truly original, and that creativity emerges through incremental progress or the combination of existing ideas, has resonated with thinkers in diverse domains, from literature and the arts to science and technology. Yet, it remains a topic of lively debate: while many argue that all apparent novelties are fundamentally reconfigurations of past influences, others contend that certain intellectual or artistic leaps represent genuine ruptures with tradition. By examining historical, philosophical, and contemporary viewpoints, we can arrive at a deeper appreciation of how profoundly our most treasured ideas owe their shape to what preceded them.
The Nature of Incremental Innovation and Creative Synthesis
Throughout history, major scientific advancements have often been hailed as transformational moments that revolutionize our understanding of the universe. Yet in nearly every case, these breakthroughs have relied upon existing frameworks of knowledge. Sir Isaac Newton’s celebrated observation—“if I have seen further, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants”—encapsulates the view that profound discoveries are embedded in the continuum of earlier research rather than conjured out of thin air. Newton himself was extending the mathematical and optical ideas he inherited from predecessors such as Galileo Galilei and René Descartes (Westfall, 1980).
Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution by natural selection, often heralded as a radically original insight, can also be seen in this light. Darwin was influenced by works such as Thomas Malthus’s Essay on the Principle of Population (1798), which led him to contemplate how competition for limited resources might apply to the natural world (Darwin, 1859; Malthus, 1798). Albert Einstein, known for his groundbreaking formulation of special and general relativity, acknowledged debts to Hendrik Lorentz, Henri Poincaré, and James Clerk Maxwell (Pais, 1982). Even in cases where the spark of genius seems to appear spontaneously, a closer look uncovers a foundation laid by earlier experiments, discussions, and partial solutions. As historian of science Gerald Holton (1988) has noted, radical scientific concepts often grow from what he terms a “themata,” or set of core, guiding presuppositions handed down through generations of researchers.
A parallel pattern emerges in the realm of art and culture. Playwrights, novelists, poets, and visual artists invariably draw upon archetypal stories, inherited techniques, or the stylistic footprints of those who came before. William Shakespeare’s works, for instance, show extensive borrowing from historical sources such as Raphael Holinshed’s Chronicles and Plutarch’s Lives (Greenblatt, 2005). Shakespeare’s plays reshaped existing plots and characters rather than creating them from raw imagination. It is telling that T. S. Eliot, in The Sacred Wood (1921), remarks that “mature poets steal,” implying that outstanding creativity involves taking preexisting material and revitalizing it through a new lens. The same can be seen in modern cinema and music, as explored in Kirby Ferguson’s documentary series Everything Is a Remix (2010). Musicians may sample riffs and rearrange them in new ways, and filmmakers might pay homage to classic scenes and stylistic flourishes of earlier eras, forging an illusion of originality out of the recombination of cultural fragments.
Counterarguments and the Possibility of Genuine Novelty
Despite the abundance of evidence supporting the idea that every act of creation recycles prior influences, it is also important to address opposing viewpoints. The argument for genuine novelty holds that certain creative leaps defy conventional narratives of incremental progress. Proponents of this perspective point to moments in history that appear to mark a sudden, unpredictable shift. For example, the transition from representational art to the radical abstractions of early twentieth-century painters like Wassily Kandinsky has been hailed as something of a break with tradition. It is true that even Kandinsky’s boldest works drew from Symbolism and other precursors (Lindsay & Vergo, 1994), yet the leap into abstraction still felt abrupt to those within the art world of the time. Similarly, in philosophical discussions, some emphasize the role of individual genius, wherein a person’s unique cognitive or imaginative processes might produce unanticipated concepts that cannot be fully traced to external precedents.
Literary critic Harold Bloom, in his work The Anxiety of Influence (1973), suggests that while all writers inevitably grapple with the impact of their forerunners, the greatest among them enact a creative misreading so profound that it cultivates something strikingly new. They do not merely add or reorder; they wrestle with the influences in such a way that a transformative originality emerges. Those who uphold the possibility of genuine novelty thus point to the psychological and subjective components of inspiration, contending that while various raw materials may underlie new works, the essence of creation itself can sometimes transcend mere imitation or incremental building.
The Evolution of Ideas as a Collective Effort
In considering whether anything is truly original, it is illuminating to view innovation as a collective, intergenerational enterprise. Steven Johnson (2010), in Where Good Ideas Come From, suggests that breakthroughs often emanate from “the adjacent possible,” referring to the near-term landscape of existing ideas, tools, and social conditions that make a particular innovation viable. This model underscores the interdependency of discoveries, inventions, and cultural expressions, highlighting the extent to which many minds contribute to the ascendancy of any single idea. If we accept the notion that each creator is situated within a web of influences—historical, societal, or intellectual—then it follows that absolute originality is rare, if not altogether elusive. Yet, far from reducing the value of creative acts, this recognition points to the impressive complexity of how knowledge and artistic innovation advance over time.
Walter Benjamin, in his seminal essay “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction” (1935), touches on how the repeated reproduction of works of art modifies their aura and reshapes the concept of originality itself. With each new copy, the unique singularity of an “original” artwork is blurred, and the line between novelty and replication becomes murkier. In contemporary digital culture, sampling, remixing, and mash-ups have become almost second nature. Modern musicians, visual artists, and content creators rely on methods that illustrate how thoroughly our creative outputs are entwined with prior works. Far from a phenomenon unique to the internet era, this creative overlapping has defined human expression for centuries; digital tools merely make the processes more transparent.
Reflections on the Continuum of Creativity
Reflecting upon this long tradition of borrowed ideas and incremental progress allows us to see “originality” less as an absolute property and more as a matter of degree. When a new scientific paradigm emerges—such as quantum mechanics in the early twentieth century—one can trace its genealogy to a host of antecedent ideas, including Max Planck’s quantum hypothesis and earlier explorations into the nature of light and matter (Kuhn, 1978). Similarly, when a novel artistic movement captures the cultural imagination, closer scrutiny reveals the scaffolding of existing techniques, past ideologies, and even reactionary stances toward predecessor movements. It is this interplay between continuity and departure that illuminates both the persistence of tradition and the spark of the innovative spirit.
Nevertheless, it is equally critical to acknowledge that in practice, incremental and synthetic processes can yield outcomes so striking that they appear genuinely new. Shakespeare, Darwin, Einstein, Kandinsky, and many other luminaries did not invent their entire conceptual worlds out of nothing, but their refashioning and reconceptualization of old ideas remain astonishing feats. Without context, the precise lineage of influences may be invisible, allowing the final product to shine as if it appeared without preamble. This is not mere illusion: the sum can indeed feel greater than its parts.
In the end, these explorations illustrate that human creativity is, at heart, a tapestry woven from countless threads. Each thread, in turn, has its own history, tracing back to still earlier strands. The continuity of knowledge and artistry manifests as an ongoing dialogue, conducted across time and space. By recognizing that even the grandest breakthroughs are anchored to what came before, we celebrate the remarkable power of intellectual and artistic collaboration—across centuries and cultures—to produce achievements that continue to shape and enrich our world.
References
Benjamin, W. (1935). The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction.
Bloom, H. (1973). The Anxiety of Influence: A Theory of Poetry. Oxford University Press.
Darwin, C. (1859). On the Origin of Species. John Murray.
Eliot, T. S. (1921). The Sacred Wood: Essays on Poetry and Criticism. Methuen.
Ferguson, K. (2010). Everything Is a Remix [Documentary film series].
Greenblatt, S. (2005). Will in the World: How Shakespeare Became Shakespeare. W. W. Norton.
Holton, G. (1988). Thematic Origins of Scientific Thought: Kepler to Einstein. Harvard University Press.
Johnson, S. (2010). Where Good Ideas Come From: The Natural History of Innovation. Riverhead Books.
Kuhn, T. (1978). Black-Body Theory and the Quantum Discontinuity, 1894-1912. Oxford University Press.
Lindsay, K., & Vergo, P. (1994). Kandinsky: Complete Writings on Art. Da Capo Press.
Malthus, T. (1798). An Essay on the Principle of Population. J. Johnson.
Pais, A. (1982). Subtle is the Lord: Science and Life of Albert Einstein, Oxford University Press.
Westfall, R. S. (1980). Never at Rest: A Biography of Isaac Newton. Cambridge University Press.
In my mind, the lineage of originality has always been complex.
In the context of writing, long back during a writing course, the instructor asked me about my favourite writer. I was at a loss of words. I don't have favourites, even in classics. The instructor intended to make me aware of my writing style - as in which writer influenced me. And yet it is not one or few who did, but many.