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The Second Solution
Now, let us take a creative approach to this issue. Faced with the problem of not knowing whether I was creating truly original art, I picked the path of least resistance - not to make anything at all. During my first attempt to deal with the issue, I realized I could not resolve the situation simply by comparing my work to others - it would mean that I had to consider every art piece ever created. That seems like a lot of effort, which I would rather spend on creating, or at least trying to, original work.
But how about trying to copy something on purpose? I am not talking about making a replica of a given art piece but instead trying to follow the path of another artist and seeing where the road brings me. In the worst case, I will see that artist's work in a new light - different from what one would experience by simply looking at the art. Ideally, this whole experiment fails - sad, but hopefully, that happens due to me finding my way.
As I am contemplating the plan of action, and the struggle is beginning to swallow up all my attention, only the feeling that the effort spent on dealing with this shadow, the other side of an artist, is not getting dissipated into nothingness pushes me forward. Add the rainy weekend on top of that, and I have no choice but to spend it wandering in the neighborhood.
I awake from another dive into the ocean of dreams at the gates of the Hokusai Museum. It is a perfect opportunity to commence the project and collect the first petal of creation.
The museum is holding a flower-themed exhibition. Landscape and portrait compositions, color and monochrome, artworks sorted by time of year and place, complete paintings and sketchbooks - it was enough to show me a direction to follow. It is curious how easily a path finds you when you look for one. Creating an album that would fit into this exhibition seems like the perfect homework for the project.
At this point, not yet realizing that a new journey is about to begin, I decide to make the first trip. The destination is Hakone, an area deep in the mountains surrounded by pristine nature. It is early spring: some vegetation is blossoming while other is still in the autumn colors. Mountain ranges that come in and out of the fog, gentle waves on the lake, water droplets on the ends of the naked tree branches, faint forest sounds and scents - the scenery around me is tranquil, to the point it could make one mad.
Walking by the lake and along the mountain road, I notice that I have never seen so many types of moss, grass, trees, and leaves before. I never intended to become a floral expert - but after a single trip, I have enough material to start a journal with descriptions and classifications of nature in the area. Something similar to the sketchbooks I saw in the Hokusai Museum. Again, is it not curious how easy it is to create when conforming to a particular style?
Does inspiration overpower an individual's creative spark?
Or is that spark so powerful that it is impossible to outshine?
The next trip is to the ocean in the Manazuru area. I depart on a cold and cloudy morning, then wait at the seashore for the sun to come out of the mist and the scenery to turn into the one I imagine a desert island stuffed with buried treasures would have. The flora in the area is drastically different from what I saw in Hakone. It is a great opportunity - I intend to keep working on the project until there is enough material to open a flower shop.
Another curious discovery - even though I have a particular goal in mind and decided on the subject to portray, I still notice things entirely unrelated to the theme. The mountain ranges of Hakone and the ocean of Manazuru are very distinct, and the people living there are as well - so what if I made the scenery - the atmosphere of each place the focus of a project? I think I am beginning to fail at restricting my creativity.
Next stop? There were a few. But how long do I keep looking for samples to prove my theory? Where is the point when I stop and accept or deny the outcome? If I keep doing this long enough, will the conclusion emerge and manifest itself without me having to make a hard decision? It does not seem so to me, not anymore. It might be too early - or too late - but the judgment needs to happen now. It is time to be an artist.
Was that enough to prove that creativity is more than repackaging work by which we get inspired? In the process, did I discover that even trying to copy others' work on purpose can lead to new things being born? I may not have provided exhaustive proof, but looking for the truth brought me to the next step of the stairway. And the plaque on its side says: if you cannot find the answer no matter how hard you look for it, there is a chance it does not exist in the first place. And you might be the one to change that.
