Where do we draw the line between inspiration and copying someone else’s original idea? Do any of us ever have original ideas? I had the chance to speak with Danielle Krysa (aka The Jealous Curator) about all of the grey area in the concept of the “original idea.”
About 11 or so years ago, someone accused me of copying them. It was a performance artwork where I stood in front of San Francisco City Hall in a wedding dress with a candle, small alter, and asked to marry strangers.
See the below image:
A few days after I posted some project images online, I got a random email from someone telling me that I had ripped off this other woman’s art. That I had stolen her idea, and that people would find out that I was a fraud. That this other artist was in the MOMA collection and was a promising artist who was collected around the globe. This person was writing on the artist’s behalf.
I obsessed over this email.
I read it over and over. I looked for every meaning that could be behind so few sets of words. At first, I was convinced that I did copy her. She was right. I was wrong. I had taken something from her that was worse than money—credit. I had seen her work before and really enjoyed it. She had work where she got married in Central Park. I think she did it with strangers or friends, I cannot remember and I can not find a record of the work online (I also am trying not to mention her name, I want to respect her privacy). If you can trust my memory, she wore a white dress and took portraits with people in different places holding hands in the park.
The entire topic is a mess of a grey area that Danielle and I only scratched the surface of, but a couple things I’ve been thinking about: in a world where we are exposed to so many of the same things, do any of us really have any original ideas? And isn’t it also possible that two people can come up with the same idea from things they have seen and experiences they have both had. They’re both just making things they are inspired by. There is no wrongdoing in that, I think.
I guess, what I’m trying to ask is, what would it feel like if we were just inherently worthy? That we could all be valued and taken care of? I am in a position of extreme privilege as I write this. But I am no more creative, no more talented, and no more worthy to live than you.
Where is the line between inspiration and copy?