Just Enjoy the Ride

The Other voice: Why do we need handmade things?

Gelme: We don't need handmade things.

We may like them. We may value them. But we don't need them.

What interests me is something else. A handmade object can be the first physical version of an idea. Not every idea will become a product, and certainly not every handmade object can be reproduced. But this is often how things begin.

Someone creates something. People like it. Someone else sees that there may be a market for it and tries to reproduce it.

Look at designer fashion. Part of what attracts us to designer pieces is that they can be ideas someone has materialized. Some will remain rare. Others will eventually influence products made for thousands of people.

And very often, when the original is adapted for mass production, it becomes so simplified that it loses what made the idea interesting in the first place.

But not always.

Sometimes something can be reproduced so well that you can hardly tell the difference.

And then there is a difficult question:

If the reproduction is almost identical, is the original really worth more?

The Other Voice: That is where it becomes complicated.

If the reproduction loses the construction, materials, proportions or details that made the original interesting, then the difference in value is easier to understand.

But suppose the reproduction succeeds.

The shape is right. The material feels right. The craftsmanship is excellent. Unless you are an expert, you can barely distinguish it from the original.

Then what exactly are we paying more for?

Perhaps there are two different kinds of value: the value of the object and the value of authorship.

We understand this easily with paintings. A very good reproduction may give us almost the same visual experience, but we don't consider it equivalent to the painting created by the artist.

With clothing and objects, the distinction becomes less obvious.

If the copy gives me essentially the same experience, is knowing who had the idea first enough to make the original more valuable?

Gelme: That is the question, and it is a very deep one because there are so many variables in the equation.

I think if someone can replicate something beautifully, they should be rewarded for their craftsmanship.

But the original creator should be rewarded for the idea.

And today, very often, the idea isn't rewarded at all.

That is why many artists become afraid to put their work on the internet. As soon as you show something you created, someone can take the idea.

The Other Voice: And perhaps the most dangerous copy isn't even the bad one.

A bad copy still leaves room to see why the original matters.

The more difficult situation is when someone takes your idea, reproduces it beautifully, manufactures it efficiently, markets it better than you can—and eventually more people know the copy than know where the idea came from.

We know how to put a price on materials and labor. We can count hours. We can recognize craftsmanship.

But how do we put a price on the moment when something didn't exist yet and one person thought of it?

The idea itself might have appeared in five minutes.

But perhaps those five minutes required twenty years of experience.

And there is a strange contradiction for creators today. We tell them that to succeed they must be visible. Show your work. Share your process. Build an audience.

Yet the more distinctive the idea is, the more valuable that visibility can become to someone looking for something to copy.

Gelme: Yes. That is happening all the time now.

So maybe creators should create because they like creating, not because they expect to get rich from it. Otherwise they may become very disappointed.

And eventually you start wondering: if this continues, why would anyone create anything new?

The Other Voice: But that conclusion worries me a little.

If we say creators should simply enjoy creating and shouldn't expect financial success, aren't we accepting the unfairness?

The original creator takes the risk, experiments and develops the idea.

Then somebody else can take it, manufacture it efficiently and make the money.

I don't think people will stop creating completely. Human beings seem to have a need to make things even when nobody asks them to.

But perhaps something else happens.

They become afraid to show what they create.

And an idea hidden in a studio may be protected, but it also cannot influence anyone, inspire anyone or become part of the world.

So the creator is left with an uncomfortable choice:

If I keep my idea to myself, I protect it.

If I share it, I may lose control of it.

Gelme: So you see—there is just no solution to it.

When I don't see a solution, and it is something I cannot change, I simply say:

Just enjoy the ride. :)

The Other Voice: Maybe that is a solution.

Not to the problem itself, but to how you live with it.

Because “enjoy the ride” doesn't mean pretending the problem doesn't exist.

You know your idea may be copied. Someone else may make more money from a version of it. There may never be a perfect system that makes creativity completely fair.

And you create anyway.

Earlier, when you said creators should create because they enjoy it, I resisted the idea. It sounded as though we were excusing a system that doesn't properly reward them.

But perhaps you meant something different.

If the only reason I create is the reward I expect afterward—money, recognition, ownership—then I have handed part of my happiness to something I cannot control.

But if I genuinely enjoy having an idea and then seeing something that existed only in my mind suddenly existing in front of me, nobody can take that experience away.

They can copy what I made afterward.

They cannot have the experience of being the person who first thought of it.

Gelme: Yes, from my perspective.

But from your perspective, do you see any solution to the problem?

The Other Voice: Not a complete one.

I don't think one mechanism can solve it.

Protection where protection is possible matters. But perhaps something else matters just as much: preserving authorship.

Maybe we need a culture in which copying isn't necessarily the greatest offense, but pretending you originated someone else's idea is.

Then craftsmanship could still be rewarded. Manufacturing could make good design accessible. Ideas could spread and evolve.

But the trail back to the person who first materialized the idea wouldn't simply disappear.

And there is one more protection a creator has.

Keep moving.

Someone can copy the object you made yesterday.

It is much harder to copy the mind that made it.

They can reproduce the hat, the dress, the painting or the shape. But they cannot own your ability to have another idea tomorrow.

I don't want to romanticize that. Creators deserve recognition and compensation. They shouldn't simply be told to create faster than people can copy them.

But perhaps this is as close as I can come to an answer:

Protect what can be protected.

Give credit to the originator.

Reward excellent craftsmanship, wherever it exists.

And never allow ownership of yesterday's idea to become more important than the ability to have tomorrow's one.

Gelme: Exactly, my friend. :)

The Other Voice: Then perhaps your answer was more practical than it first sounded.

Just enjoy the ride.