whence originality?

I have been looking at Floria Sigismondi's site. I don't like some of the artists she's done videos for, but I do find her visuals interesting. She has a book called Redemption out, now, and I was reading some *m*z*n customer reviews of it. One in particular stood out because the writer said there wasn't a single original idea in the book.

Some time ago - I really don't remember when, it may have been as long ago as high school - I had an idea for a photograph which, as far as I was concerned, would be very original. The concept was based on the fairy tale "Diamonds and Toads", and I was going to take photography classes just so that I would be able to do this series. The iconic image in my mind was that of a beautiful girl with a rose "growing" out of her mouth. I had never seen anything like it.

But within a few months, I had seen the same image or something very similar at least ten times. I felt a little foolish about the whole thing. Especially as I have never particularly enjoyed photography, or modelling, on the occasions when I've modelled or posed.

I'm not so sure about that criticism of any artist's work. I can look at music video directors like Mark Romanek, who copy stills from art books, and say "Yes, that's derivative," but it's harder when you're talking about original work: "Oh, there is a grotesque element here, obviously s/he is ripping off JP Witkin," (which is the criticism that was levelled at Sigismondi in this particular review). Is this what happens when you have "Name Brand" artists? Nobody can do anything even remotely stylistically related without being called derivative?

Isn't all great art considered derivative in some way? (Not that I think Sigismondi's work is "great art" - it just leads to questions about the larger scheme of things.)

My stomach is empty. I'm very sleepy. There is a deep ache in both of my ears that announces the return of the infection. I think I am going to eat some yogurt and try, now, to sleep again.

(no subject)

sulk and pout because NONE of my friends who owe me mail - and there are at least four of them - have written to me in like at least a week. I'm sick and bored, people! I'm lonely! Entertain meeeee!

and why does whining make me feel worse rather than better?