Where Did the Concept of ‘Originality’ Come From?

Be original. Think differently. Break the mold. These mantras surround us—from classrooms to marketing campaigns to personal mantras scrawled on sticky notes.

But originality—at least as we understand it today—isn’t a timeless value. In fact, for most of human history, originality wasn’t admired. It was suspect. Novelty wasn’t celebrated; it was avoided. Creative work wasn’t praised for being “new,” but for being faithful, skillful, or divinely inspired.

This essay takes a tour through the strange and recent history of originality: where it came from, how it evolved, and what got lost (or gained) along the way.

In the Ancient World, Copying Was a Virtue

In classical antiquity, particularly in Greece and Rome, creative greatness was judged not by how original you were, but by how well you echoed and adapted the past. Homer was the model to emulate, not depart from.

Artists and thinkers saw themselves not as originators, but as craftsmen in a long lineage. Invention came from mastering the canon, not departing from it.

To “copy” a master was not plagiarism — it was reverence. And the ability to imitate skillfully was considered proof of excellence.

In Medieval Europe, Creativity Wasn’t Yours

Fast forward to medieval Europe, and we find a similar view. Creativity wasn’t seen as individual achievement, but as a channeling of divine or authoritative wisdom. The source of knowledge wasn’t the self—it was God, scripture, tradition.

Writers and artists didn’t claim ownership. Much of medieval art and writing is anonymous. To “put your name” on something would have been, in many contexts, prideful. Ego was out. Humility, obedience, and tradition were in.

The goal wasn’t to create something new. It was to illuminate the eternal.

The Renaissance: Rebirth… But Still Reverence

The Renaissance brought a return to classical sources—and a renewed interest in the capabilities of human reason and expression. But even then, innovation wasn’t the aim. Instead, artists sought to recover and perfect ancient ideals.

Michelangelo, for instance, was praised not for “originality,” but for embodying the greatness of antiquity—and perhaps surpassing it. His genius lay in revitalization, not radical departure.

Innovation was still seen through the lens of elevation of form, not disruption of form.

The Shift: Romanticism and the Birth of the “Original Genius”

So when did originality become the prize? The big shift began in the 18th and 19th centuries, during the Enlightenment and especially the Romantic period.

This is when we start to see the rise of the solitary genius. The artist or thinker who creates from within, fueled by personal vision, emotional intensity, and a desire to break with the past.

The Romantics glorified the self. They believed that true art emerged from inner authenticity. That inspiration came not from tradition or divine authority—but from the individual mind.

Suddenly, copying wasn’t respect—it was theft. Repetition wasn’t homage—it was failure.

Why the Idea Caught On

Several cultural and technological forces helped cement this new value:

• Printing and copyright — Creative works became commodities. Ownership mattered.
• Capitalism and consumer culture — Novelty sold. Original products could be patented, branded, marketed.
• The rise of the individual — Especially in Western societies, personal identity became central. “Express yourself” turned into a moral imperative.
• Modern education — Emphasis on unique contributions and critical thinking began to take hold.

By the 20th century, originality had become not just an artistic ideal—but a cultural expectation.

What We Lost in the Shift

While originality unlocked enormous creative freedom, it also came with some costs. Among them:

• 🌪️ Pressure — The demand to be unique can stifle rather than liberate
• 🧱 Isolation — Overemphasis on individual vision can obscure collaborative and communal creativity
• 🧠 Amnesia — A fixation on the new sometimes blinds us to the value of the old
• 📚 Erasure of lineage — In chasing novelty, we forget the shoulders we stand on

Originality became so prized that derivative became an insult — even though all thinking is, in some way, derivative.

What “Original” Really Means

It’s worth pausing to consider the word itself. Original comes from the Latin originem, meaning “beginning” or “source.”

To be “original,” in this older sense, wasn’t to be radically new — it was to be connected to the root. To be in touch with the essence, the source, the first principles.

Which suggests an irony: True originality might not be about novelty at all. It might be about reaching deeper — not further — into meaning.

Rethinking Originality Today

In the digital age, originality is more complicated than ever. We remix, reuse, sample, and iterate. We’re flooded with influences. Generative AI can produce “original” text and images in seconds — based on vast reservoirs of existing material.

So what does originality mean now?

Maybe we need to move past the binary of “original vs. derivative.” Maybe creativity isn’t about being unlike anything else — but about how we recombine, reinterpret, and reframe the things we inherit.

Try This: Trace Your Influences

If you’re a maker of any kind, pause today and ask: Who am I echoing?

• What styles, voices, or frameworks do I carry without realizing it?
• What parts of my work are unoriginal — and does that matter?
• What do I admire that I haven’t yet allowed into my own work?

Sometimes, naming your influences is the most original act of all.

Conclusion: Originality as Dialogue, Not Departure

Originality, as we understand it, is a modern invention. But that doesn’t make it bad. It’s opened doors to self-expression, experimentation, and visionary thinking.

Still, we might do well to remember what came before: a world in which the past was not a prison, but a partner. Where creation wasn’t about being the first—but about saying something meaningful in a long, ongoing conversation.

Maybe that’s what originality really is: a voice that’s recognizably yours, in dialogue with everything that came before.

This article is part of our Idea Histories trail — essays exploring where big ideas come from, and how they came to be what they are.