I can't fathom originality

I operate best when I'm actively viewing other creators' works. I am under the belief that nothing new exists under the sun in the creative sense and perhaps other senses as well. 

The basic premise of this thought process is: someone gets inspired by someone (or something someone made), who was inspired by someone (or something someone made)... and so on. A never-ending cycle (or circle?)

Forgive my apparent black and white thinking if it comes off as so, but it's how I think, regardless of how hard I try to flee from it. 

Art and passion put to paper or any other surface or form someone can inscribe into existence is my reason. Motivation? It's the most precious thing someone can do, and it is ridiculously easy to overlook the art in our lives. It's the fatigue we are subjected to daily. Our attention is being drawn from one problem that certainly demands our attention this immediate moment to another flashing lights advert telling us we need to buy buy buy or save save save or spend or discounts or hurry now. Attention now. To another reason why we should be miserable. From someone's perspective, this entire cycle of give and take could be artistic and beautiful. So very fragile. or egregious and pitiful. Disgusting. In need of shattering.

Perhaps both, in a way that makes the entire thing irrelevant. Perspective and history make and shape art with a weight that can never be fully comprehended.

A memory recounted is an entirely new identity, but not a unique one.

Though that's just me.