“Every leopard is unique.” And in case the class needed more, “No other leopard has the same pattern of spots. They’re like us: no person has the same fingerprints as another.”
Brought up on the mother’s milk of individuality, “Everyone on earth is special, don’t forget that.“ facts like the leopards’ spottiness may be more easily accepted than “Every ant is different,” when the trail through he kitchen must have originated from a conveyor belt. But in case the world of natural science does not adequately root this concept of uniqueness , English is just down the corridor. “No, you cannot say, ’It’s quite unique.’ or ‘most unique’. ‘Unique’ has no degrees of comparison: it is the only one of its kind.” But then comes the question in the Logics class: “If unique is the only one of its kind, then how can it belong to any kind?”
The answer to this question lies in the difference between Monique and Unique. Some parents will name their child, Monique, a recognised name. But it would be a foolish parent who would name a child “Unique” which, referring to a person, carries the quality of being naturally and unself-consciously different from others in a positive and original way; a person who, paradoxically, stands alone among others. Identifying one’s child as Unique brings an explicit comparison to bear which is contrary to the meaning of unique.
“So each one is unique?” was the BBC art critic’s quasi-question to the museum’s curator, just in case viewers thought the tea bowl he held had rolled off the conveyor belt that operated during the Song dynasty a millennium ago. To make the tea bowl that bit more special he had conveniently sidelined the similarly “unique” bowls around it. Had he said, more accurately, “handmade”, viewers’ ears may not have twitched; “unique” had to be the word to keep them on the line. Unique imparts a status which makes “By Appointment to His Majesty the King” its poor relation. Royalty, with its capabilities through wealth and power, is expected to show discernment and have taste for the finest things of life, not necessarily those of a singular nature which is the brand of unique.
Over the ages what is referred to as the highest art has sometimes been termed “unique”. Whether it be the Winged Victory of Samothrace or Picasso’s Guernica, such stand alone among others. That a work may survive millennia may point to human beings recognising the value of its creation and an awareness of the depth of human ability and consciousness, manifesting in a work of unique standing. But what if such a consciousness were to emanate from something non-human?
There is a claim by some that a robot can exhibit consciousness and be considered animate. Having outdone humans in a number of high-order tasks and mind games, a work of art may be created by a computer form of intelligence which comes to be seen as unique, not due to its being made by a non-human but through its quality and originality of work. Though there is a human agency involved at some level, the trajectory of Artificial Intelligence suggests that super-computers may go where no one has been before. When that happens in the world of art, what will this impart to the human spirit, accustomed to the value which the unique work of some individuals from past and present has bestowed on succeeding generations? If human agency becomes less and less apparent, will manifestations of its uniqueness not follow suit?
A thank you to Davisuko of Unsplash for the image
