Collage is art, not theft

From Negativland:

No one much cared about the centuries old tradition of appropriation in classical music as long as it could only be heardwhen it was played live in front of your ears. But now all music exists as a mass produced, saleable object, electronically frozen for all time, and seen by its owners to be in continuous, simultaneous economic competition with all other music. The previously interesting idea that someone’s music might freely include some appropriated music of another has now been made into a criminal activity. This example is typical of how copyright laws now actually serve to inhibit or prevent the creative process, itself, from proceeding in certain interesting ways, both traditional and new.

This has become a pressing problem for creativity now because the creative technique of appropriation has jumped from the mediums in which it first appeared (principally in the visual fine arts of painting, printmaking, and sculpture) to popular, electronic mass distributed mediums such as photography, recorded music, and multimedia. The appearance of appropriation techniques in these more recent mass mediums have occasioned a huge increase in owner litigations of such appropriation based works because the commercial entrepenours who now own and operate mass culture are apparently intent on oblitering all distinctions between the needs of art and the needs of commerce.These owners of mass produced cultural material claim that similarly mass produced works of appropriation are a new and devastating threat to their total control over the exclusive profits which their properties might produce in the same mass marketplace. They claim that, art or not, an unauthorized appropriation of any kind can not be allowed to directly compete in the appropriated material’s avenue of commerce, as if they were equal in content, and equal in intent. The degree to which the unique nature and needs of art practice do not play any part in this thinking is more than slightly insane.

Consider the starkly stupid proposition that collage has now become illegal in music unless the artist can afford to pay for each and every fragment he or she might want to use, as well as gain permission from each and every owner. Consider how this puts a stop to all independent, non-corporate forms of collage in music, and how those corporately funded collage works which can afford the tolls had better be flattering to the owner intheir usage. . . .

Please consider the ungenerous and uncreative logic we are overlaying our culture with. Artists will always be interested in sampling from existing cultural icons and artifacts precisely because of how they express and symbolize something potently recognizable about the culture from which both they and this new work spring. The owners of such artifacts and icons are seldom happy to see their properties in unauthorized contexts which may be antithetical to the way they are spinning them. Their kneejerk use of copyright restrictions to crush this kind of work now amounts to corporate censorship of unwanted independent work.

Requiring licenses for artistic appropriation has nothing to with providing incentives to create.

I’ve been pretty passionate in this blog in expressing my belief that art that appropriates copyrighted work does not infringe the copyrighted work provided the new work stands sufficiently on its own as a creative work. To stand on its own in that way, the new work is one that isn’t attracting an audience merely because of its appropriation of the earlier work. The fact it uses the the copyrighted work to convey meaning through the use of symbols and allusions is no different than the way new, original art has always used the meaning culture attributes to earlier work. Art builds on art.

The counter-argument to my position is that artists need to make money to be able to create art, and if an appropriator can pay for a license, why shouldn’t he? First, merely asking for a license is not the same as obtaining one. Second, the most meaningful pieces of art in our culture are the most successful, and licenses for the use of those works are not likely to be within the financial means of most artists. Third, why should you have to ask for a license to make something new from something someone already has made money from (or as much as their work earned in the market)?

But now Malcolm Gladwell goes right to the heart of the most compelling argument copyright holders have against un-licensed appropriation — that the financial remuneration is an incentive necessary to the creation of art in the first place. Gladwell writes:

Dan Pink is best known for a number of really insightful business books, including “A Whole New Mind.” In “Drive,” he tackles the question of what motivates people to do innovative work, and his jumping-off point is the academic work done over the past few decades that consistently shows that financial rewards hinder creativity. These studies have been around for a while. But Pink follows through on their implications in a way that is provocative and fascinating. The way we structure organizations and innovation, after all, almost always assumes that the prospect of financial reward is the prime human motivator. We think that the more we pay people, the better results we’ll get. But what if that isn’t true? What the research shows, instead, is that the great wellspring of creativity is intrinsic motivation—that is, I do my best work for personal rewards (out of love or intellectual fulfillment) and not external motivation (money).

Maybe you don’t think much of this blog, but I’ve written it now for 18 months and haven’t seen a penny in return. The best writers I know scramble to make their livings through their writing, teaching, parlaying their writing into other creative projects, and whatever else can come their way. I’ve known artists my entire life. I’ve known a few who’ve had vast success, but they are a tiny, tiny minority. The artists I know won’t stop creating if they’re not paid for transformative appropriations of their works.

Article 1, Section 8 of the U.S. Constitution sets for the basis of Congressional power to create laws to protect copyright. It states:

The Congress shall have Power . . . To promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries; . . . (emphasis added).

It does not state:

The Congress shall have the Power . . . To further the capacity of authors and inventors to extract any and all value that exists in their creations, by securing for a time in excess of the lifetimes of these Authors and Inventors the exclusive right to their respective writings and discoveries; . . .

The Korean War Memorial Postage Stamp Photo Case: I was way wrong! But I still think I was right, and I think the case is bad for art.

Consider me dumbfounded, or just plain dumb. I thought the copyright infringement case brought by the sculptor of the Korean War War Veterans Memorial (above, left) against the U.S. Postal Service for the use of the memorial’s image in a postage stamp (above, right) was an “easy case” — that the stamp constituted fair use of the image of the memorial because, among other things, I thought the image was sufficiently “transformative” of the memorial itself to constitute a creative work in its own right.

But today, in Gaylord v. U.S. (pdf),the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Federal Circuit reversed the lower court’s holding and ruled that the stamp infringed the sculptor’s copyright in the memorial (pdf). Whereas I thought the image on the stamp was transformative because, among other things, I wouldn’t have even known it was an image of a sculpture rather than a stylized image of actual soldiers unless I’d read otherwise, the court held that the purpose and character of the image on the postage stamp and the purpose and character of the sculpture were identical: “to honor veterans of the Korean War.” Slip op. at 9. The court rejected the reasoning I had advanced, reasoning as follows:

Although the stamp altered the appearance of The Column by adding snow and muting the color, these alterations do not impart a different character to the work. To the extent that the stamp has a surreal character, The Column and its soldiers themselves contribute to that character. Indeed, the Penn State Team suggested that the Memorial have a “dream-like presence of ghostly figures.” Capturing The Column on a cold morning after a snowstorm—rather than on a warm sunny day—does not transform its character, meaning, or message.  Slip Op. at 11.

I am stunned, and I find the court’s limitation of of “transformative” work to work that “comments on or criticizes” the work it appropriates without real rationale, but the odds are long the case will end up before the U.S. Supreme Court. It might be a good case for the Supreme Court to weigh in on — the ease and low cost of copying and disseminating images in this day and age makes any and every sort of appropriation art a contentious and wide open field, but I suspect the Supreme Court would prefer to let these issues simmer in the lower courts for some time before it chooses to weigh in on the question. In the mean time, I have to bow in humility to Donn Zaretsky, with whom I engaged in an online debate last summer on this particular case in particular and on the issue of the photographic appropriation of public art in particular. Donn was right, and I was wrong. I suspect, though, that this isn’t the last word we’ll hear on this type of case.

Addendum: The more I think about the decision in Gaylord, the more wrong-headed I believe it is, and the more I think it falls prey to a dangerous proclivity to commercialize every last aspect of our culture, including art. To limit “transformative” uses of copyrighted materials to uses that comment upon or criticize the copyrighted works they appropriate is to eliminate the use of the kind of appropriation as source material that is the very foundation of art. Copyrighted art works become part of the cultural language. A work that has impact in a culture takes on a meaning of its own. That cultural meaning then becomes part of the language of art, and as a part of that language it then has meaning that can be used in the sorts of compressed and symbolic ways that art needs to use in order to be art. To remove copyrighted works from this language in the absence of payment for their use would substantially damage our culture. By the time a work of art becomes available for the free use of other artists as part of the public domain — the duration of the artist’s life plus 70 years — it no longer will have any resonance worth exploiting.

Moreover, it is, I think, strange that the court in Gaylord reasoned that the photograph of the sculpture was not sufficiently original in its own right to be transformative despite what I referred to above — the fact that one would not likely even spot that the photo was of the the memorial, much less a sculpture — because that character of the photo was merely the product of the fact the photo was shot on a snowy day:

To the extent that the stamp has a surreal character, The Column and its soldiers themselves contribute to that character. Indeed, the Penn State Team suggested that the Memorial have a “dream-like presence of ghostly figures.” Capturing The Column on a cold morning after a snowstorm—rather than on a warm sunny day—does not transform its character, meaning, or message. Nature’s decision to snow cannot deprive Mr. Gaylord of an otherwise valid right to exclude. Slip op. at 11.

This reasoning is strange because, as I have pointed out before, photography itself is protected by copyright as “original” — rather than being rejected as mere transmission of the “facts” it conveys — precisely to the extent it reflects the photographer’s choices regarding the framing of the image, the choice of background and lighting, and the resulting mood:

Decisions rendering the photograph a protectable “intellectual invention” included: the posing and arrangement of [the subject] “so as to present graceful outlines”; the selection and arrangement of background and accessories; the arrangement and disposition of light and shade; and the evocation of the desired expression. Courts today continue to hold that such decisions by the photographer–or, more precisely, the elements of photographs that result from these decisions–are worthy of copyright protection. See, e.g., Rogers v. Koons (”Elements of originality in a photograph may include posing the subjects, lighting, angle, selection of film and camera, evoking the desired expression, and almost any other variant involved.”) (citations omitted). Meshwerks v. Toyotoa Motor Sales, Inc. ( 10th Cir. 2008).

I am not sure how one reconciles the idea that photography constitutes original work entitled to copyright protection with the notion that the elements of the art that give it originality — the elements that are the result of the artist’s choice — are merely “nature’s decision” and therefore not an element that make a work sufficiently original to be entitled to stand on its own without paying its way. I also think that the decision is vacuous as an artistic matter.

Finally, the decision plainly has significance with respect to the claim by the Associated Press that Shepard Fairey’s Obama Hope poster infringed Manny Garcia’s photo of then-candidate Obama. I have stated again and again that I think the Hope poster is a non-infringing fair use primarily because of the way it transforms the photo and stands on its own as a creative work. It was many, many months before anyone even identified which photo was Fairey’s source material; even Garcia himself, despite seeing the poster again and again during those months, did not recognize that the poster was derived from his own photo! But there’s no doubt in my mind that the poster does not constitute a comment or criticism of the photo. Under the Federal Circuit’s reasoning, therefore, Fairey’s poster infringes the photo’s copyright. Fortunately, however, the Federal Circuit’s decision is not binding on the United States District Court for the Southern District of New York, where AP v. Fairey is pending, so that court will be left to its own judgment as to the scope of appropriation art will be permitted in this age of digital copying and transmission.

Here’s hoping, on my part, that the court in that case comes to a different decision. Art is a language that draws on and builds from itself. To reduce the language’s components to commodities would be to commercialize one more part of our lives, monetize one of the few things we have left that have not been reduced to the equivalent of cold cash.

Second Addendum: John E. Grant has a very interesting take on the Gaylord decision – he reads the decision as one that focuses on the stamp rather than the photo the stamp consists of:

In reversing the lower court decision, a 2-1 appellate majority ruled that the trial judge was wrong to focus on the transformative aspects of the photograph. Instead, it held that it must analyze the purpose and character of the stamp. The appellate majority then found that the purpose of the stamp was the same as the purpose of the sculpture: to honor Korean War veterans.

It’s an interesting thought, but I’m not sure I entirely buy it. If the photo itself was fair use, then I do not understand why the photographer did not have the right to license the use of that photo to the government for use on the postage stamp. Further, as Grant acknowledges and as I pointed out above, the court reasoned that although the image on the stamp “altered the appearance of the sculpture, . . . the alterations [were attributable] to mother nature, not the photographer and . . .  ’nature’s decision to snow cannot deprive Mr. Gaylord of an otherwise valid right’ to his copyright.” Again, I cannot understand why the very elements that constitute the creative elements of a photograph can in this fair use analysis be passed off as merely “nature’s decisions.”

Jack Mackie, litigator-artist: artists aren’t entitled to stop uses of their work merely because they don’t like those uses.

A friend (who happens to be a relative too) points out to me that the artist whose lawsuit I wrote about yesterday — Jack Mackie, creator of the popular outdoor artwork in Seattle known as “The Dance Steps” — has previously sued over the alleged infringement of his copyright in that work. He was largely unsuccessful in the earlier lawsuit, Mackie v. Reiser, 296 F.3d 909 (9th Cir. 2002), cert. denied 537 U.S. 1189 (2003), but not for a lack of trying — he appealed his case to the U.S. Court of Appeals for the 9th Circuit and even sought to have that decision reviewed by the U.S. Supreme Court.

In Reiser, Mackie sued the Seattle Symphony Orchestra for using a photo of part of The Dance Steps without his permission in a Symphony promotional campaign. Even assuming the Symphony’s use of the image constituted an infringement, the court ruled that Mackie was not legally entitled to statutory damages for copyright infringement because he had not registered his copyright in The Dance Steps; nor was he entitled to damages from the Symphony’s “direct profits.” He was awarded $1,000, based on the trial court’s determination that that is the amount he would have been paid by the Symphony for a license to use the work, but he even appealed that award as inadequate because he did not like the way the Symphony used the image of his work.

The court focused on his claim for “indirect profits” — that is, the profits the Symphony earned from its promotional material that were attributable to the allegedly infringing use of an image of Mackie’s work. But Mackie was not able to produce evidence that any of the Symphony’s profits were attributable to their use of the image of The Dance Steps. In fact, “Mackie’s damages expert had testified that it was impossible to determine how much of the Pops revenue could be traced to the infringing artwork.” Although the expert subsequently testified that he had been wrong and that he believed 1.5% of the Symphony’s profits from the campaign could be traced to its use of the image of The Dance Steps, the court held that that belief was too much based on speculation. Interestingly, at trial, Mackie himself “conceded that his putative loss of future earnings was speculative at best [and] . . . that he had previously given permission for others to use ‘The Tango’ without payment of a royalty.”

Finally, the court ruled that there were no grounds to award Mackie more than $1,000 to represent the amount the Symphony would have had to pay him for a license to use an image of The Dance Steps despite Mackie’s “personal objections to the manipulation of his artwork.” It is important to understand that copyright does not give an artist the power to stop a use of his work merely because he doesn’t like the use. And, indeed, the court concluded: “Although it is not hard to be sympathetic to his concerns,  . . . Mackie’s subjective view, which really boils down to “hurt feelings” over the nature of the infringement, has no place in this calculus.”

Photographing public art: a persistent fair use problem

I have a friend, a sculptor, who has sold several of his pieces as public art. He laughs at the idea that he could somehow recover more money than he has already received for any use the public makes of his sculptures. And he’ll soon be a lawyer. The way he figures it, he’s sold unlimited public use of the art for whatever uses the public will make of it — even money-making uses.

But his view is a generous one. Often the creators of public art will pursue anyone who uses images of their public art under the copyright laws. To my mind, it’s one more of an infinite  number of  manifestations of our collective obsession with converting everything we can into a marketable commodity. Nevertheless, the efforts of artists to restrict others from making and using images of their public art is far from frivolous. Donn Zaretsky and I had a couple of go rounds last year in connection with the use on a postage stamp of a photograph of the Korean War Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C. I am still convinced that the postage stamp in that case makes fair use of the image of the memorial, but we’ll have to wait and see whether my conviction that it isn’t even a close case is vindicated.

But now from the Citizens Media Law Project comes word of a similar, and perhaps more difficult, case, from Seattle, where photographer Mike Hipple is being sued by sculptor Jack Mackie over the photo Hipple took about 10 years ago of a woman standing near the “Dance Steps on Broadway” sculpture in Seattle’s Capitol Hill. As the Citizens Media Law Project explains:

The lawsuit has outraged scores of residents who find Mackie to be out of step with the public’s interest. Mackie installed the eight sets of inlaid bronze shoe prints, mapping out well-known dances such as the waltz and rumba, in 1982 when the city rebuilt the neighborhood’s sidewalks. Despite receiving public financing for the project, Mackie retained rights to the artwork. Those rights, according to § 106 of the U.S. Copyright Act, include the exclusive right to reproduce the work or to create derivative work from it.

Finally, I agree with the following sentiments: “any scheme that involves paying to photograph seems antithetical to the public interest. The most reasonable solution is to keep public artwork completely open to the public. Until cities do this, however, commercial photographers may want to think twice about incorporating public artwork into their photographs.”

Nevertheless, I also agree with Hipple that the photo constitutes fair use of the sculptures image? Why? Because the photo stands on its own as a creative work. Hipple has taken a work embedded in a sidewalk in front of a public building and made it into a beautiful image that evokes both dance and confusion in a world full of complicated instructions seemingly sending us in a myriad of different directions. I don’t know how often I can say it: art builds on art. Culture builds on culture. And the sooner we ease up on our madness to monetize everything the sooner we’ll be sane.

“Authorship is rarely a simple question.” — Architecture this time

I’ve written before that it boggles my mind when people write seriously that legal documents that duplicate others might constitute copyright violations. Originality is not of any value in a legal document — the document’s effectiveness in accomplishing its purpose is all that matters. Moreover, as I’ve also mentioned, legal writing is a quintessentially collaborative enterprise. Of course, law is not unique in this regard. In the course of finishing up a paper on the nature of a judge as an “author,” I came across a story from the New York Times written in 2005 about why accusations of plagiarism by architects rarely make it to court. Guess what? Architecture too is largely a collaborative enterprise. As the story states:

One reason accusations of plagiarism [between architects] rarely make it to court is that architecture, despite the romantic image of the solitary genius, is largely a collaborative pursuit. Principal, project architect, project designer and outside consultants of all stripes contribute to a design. All the while, young architects move from firm to firm, spreading ideas and sometimes eventually opening their own, competing offices. As for student architects, well, just because they don’t get paid for their work doesn’t mean it never enters the commercial arena. There’s so much rich activity going on at the schools,” said Bill Sharples of the Manhattan firm SHoP/Sharples Holden Pasquarelli, ‘it’s hard not to be influenced by it.’ With so many influences and so many echoes, authorship is rarely a simple question.”

Protecting an artist’s legacy: maximize the income from his works, or seek to embody his art? Moral rights and the successors to John Cage.

One of the more remarkable “copyright” fights has, literally, been over silence. The copyright issues are interesting, but I’m particularly interested in the insights provided by Lewis Hyde that I recently came across and the way they bear on a lawyer’s duty to pay as much or more attention to a client’s heart and soul as it is to pay attention to a client’s legal rights and remedies.

The new information comes from the Official Blog of the John Cage Trust, a wonderful new addition to the blogosphere brought by the “not-for-profit organization founded shortly after Cage’s death to support and nurture his legacy.” As American Masters explains, Cage was not merely one of the 20th Century’s most important composers; his work and thought extends to every creative field:

His sense that music was everywhere and could be made from anything brought a dynamic optimism to everything he did. While recognized as one of the most important composers of the century, John Cage’s true legacy extends far beyond the world of contemporary classical music. After him, no one could look at a painting, a book, or a person without wondering how they might sound if you listened closely.

Cage was particularly interested in investigating composition through chance procedures. Thus, it is not surprising that the homepage of JohnCage.org points right now to “Eddie Kohler’s beautiful application devoted to John Cage’s Indeterminacy: New Aspect of Form in Instrumental and Electronic Music.” According to Stereophile (quoted on Amazon.com), Cage composed Indeterminacy by reading “90 stories, his speed determined by the story’s length. In another room, beyond earshot of Cage, David Tudor, pianist and veteran Cage collaborator, performed miscellaneous selections from Cage’s Concert for Piano and Orchestra and played pre-recorded tape from Cage’s Fontana Mix. The resulting collaboration is an astounding piece of ‘music,’ and a fine introduction to the innovations of John Cage. ‘A wonderfully curious way to hear stories.’”

Perhaps Cage’s most well-known work is 4′33″. Solonmusic.net describes the piece’s first performance and the audience’s reaction (footnotes omitted):

The first performance of John Cage’s 4′33″ created a scandal. Written in 1952, it is Cage’s most notorious composition, his so-called “silent piece”. The piece consists of four minutes and thirty-three seconds in which the performer plays nothing. At the premiere some listeners were unaware that they had heard anything at all. It was first performed by the young pianist David Tudor at Woodstock, New York, on August 29, 1952, for an audience supporting the Benefit Artists Welfare Fund — an audience that supported contemporary art.

Tudor placed the hand-written score, which was in conventional notation with blank measures, on the piano and sat motionless as he used a stopwatch to measure the time of each movement. The score indicated three silent movements, each of a different length, but when added together totalled four minutes and thirty-three seconds. Tudor signaled its commencement by lowering the keyboard lid of the piano. The sound of the wind in the trees entered the first movement. After thirty seconds of no action, he raised the lid to signal the end of the first movement. It was then lowered for the second movement, during which raindrops pattered on the roof. The score was in several pages, so he turned the pages as time passed, yet playing nothing at all. The keyboard lid was raised and lowered again for the final movement, during which the audience whispered and muttered.

Cage said, “People began whispering to one another, and some people began to walk out. They didn’t laugh — they were just irritated when they realized nothing was going to happen, and they haven’t fogotten it 30 years later: they’re still angry.” Maverick Concert Hall, the site of the first performance, was ideal in allowing the sounds of the environment to enter, because the back of the hall was open to the surrounding forest. When Tudor finished, raising the keyboard lid and himself from the piano, the audience burst into an uproar — “infuriated and dismayed,” according to the reports. Even in the midst of an avant garde concert attended by modern artists, 4′33″ was considered “going too far.”

Laura Kuhn, the Cage Trust’s Executive Director, graciously points readers to a excerpts from a conversation between Nicholas Riddle, general manager of Peters Edition, which owns the copyrights in Cage’s works, and Hyde, the author of an eagerly awaited forthcoming book on the “cultural commons.”  The part of the exchange between Riddle and Hyde Ms. Kuhn has posted concerns the work that became the focus of one of the more notorious copyright lawsuits of all-time, brought by Peters Edition against Mike Batts, a British composer. In the course of producing the album Classical Graffiti for the The Planets, Batts inserted a one minute silence between two sections of the album that were in radically different styles. According to Riddle, Batts said, “”I thought for my own amusement it would be funny to call it something, so I called it A Minute’s Silence and credited it as track 13, and put my name as Batt/Cage, as a tongue-in-cheek dig at the John Cage piece.’”

Subsequently, Batts’ “record company forwarded the [album] to MCPS, which was handling the mechanical royalties for these CDs. They then identified Cage’s 4’33” as the work in question and started to pay out pro rata royalties to [Peters Edition] as Cage’s publisher.” After Batts’ “homage” became the subject of newspaper reports, Peters Edition “agreed to a run-off between the Batt piece (performed by The Planets) and the Cage piece, performed at the clarinet by our London firm’s Head of New Music, Marc Dooley.”

As Riddle notes, the press described the subsequent lawsuit brought against Batts by Peters Edition as a claim that “Batts stole his silence from Cage.” I can’t say that I didn’t have precisely that impression. Riddle explains the lawsuit to Hyde differently — since Batts attributed the 1 minute of silence to Cage, he was either earning royalties for Cage’s work or identifying something as Cage’s work that wasn’t. Either way, he’d owe Peters Edition money:

The claim was nothing to do with stealing silence from Cage. The issue was entirely that Batt identified this silence as having Cage authorship, leading to a presumption that he was quoting in some sense from 4’33”, and was so successful in doing so that the collecting society started to pay out mechanical royalties for it. There were really only two options here: either, the track really was intended as a quotation from 4’33” or some other unidentified Cage work, in which case mechanical royalties were due; or, he was misappropriating Cage’s name in the context of a musical work, and that also would not do. He, after all, was the one who claimed it was Cage in the first place. Was he passing off something else as being by Cage, or was the work actually Cage? Since performances of 4’33” could be said in some sense to be self-identified as such, it was really his call.

As Hyde recognizes in his response to Riddle, the claim that identification of the minute of silence as a work by Cage was a “misappropriation” of Cage’s name to give value to a work it would not have had without that attribution is founded in the concept of “moral rights,” which are (except in very narrow circumstances not applicable to the lawsuit against Batts) not recognized in U.S. copyright law. As Hyde very concisely describes an artist’s moral rights, “such rights include the right of attribution, the right to prevent false attribution, and the right of integrity.”

I can understand why if one were talking about a conventional musical composition Riddle is right — Batts would owe money either because he had earned royalties from the sale, without permission, of a work that Cage had composed or, under the doctrine of moral rights, he had made money from a work that presumably sold in part because it had been falsely attributed to Cage.  Nonetheless, I cannot get my head around the idea that 1 minute of silence is a quotation of 4 minutes and 33 seconds of silence or that the attribution wasn’t a perfectly legitimate parody of Cage’s work rather than an effort to extract money from listeners who would mistakenly think they were listening to Cage’s silence, not Batts’. Even in a realm of moral rights there must be room for parody.

Nonetheless, to the shock of many, Batts settled the lawsuit and paid an undisclosed sum of money to the John Cage Trust. Riddle admits he is not at liberty to discuss the details of the settlement and writes that he and Batts did not discuss the reasons Batts agreed to the financial settlement, but he suggest that his own belief is that Batts as an artist recognized a need to acknowledge the legitimacy of the publisher’s claims:

[M]y personal take on this is that it is important to remember that Mike Batt is also a composer and that a significant part of his income is from royalties earned on his existing works. The same applies to CDs of his music or the music of the bands he creates and promotes. He is heavily invested himself in the concept of intellectual property and its value. And rightly so, in my view.

Hyde doesn’t dispute the merits of Riddle’s explanation of the legal bases of the lawsuit, but he does raise (in a remarkably gentle and respectful way) another entirely different doubt he has about the wisdom of the lawsuit. Hyde points to Cage’s Buddhist beliefs and convictions that his art was not a projection of his personality. In fact, moral rights are grounded in the idea that an artist’s creations are in some way embodiments and extensions of the artist: one violates an artist’s moral rights if one violates a work’s “integrity” by, for example, defacing it, because defacement of the work is in some sense a defacement of the artist. To attribute to an artist a work that isn’t by the artist is, in turn, to violate the artist’s identity by identifying the artist with something that is not the artist; an artist’s genuine work, in contrast, is the artist.

But Cage did not believe his compositions embodied or otherwise constituted extensions into the world of his identity. As Hyde writes, Cage was not interested in chance as a means of revealing the personality. He even wrote, “Personality is a flimsy thing on which to build an art.” Instead,

Cage was after [Jacques] Monod’s ‘absolute newness’ of pure chance. He was not out to discover any hidden self, nor did he think chance operations would reveal any hidden, already-existing divine reality, as ancient diviners thought. ‘Composition is like writing a letter to a stranger,’ he once said. ‘I don’t hear things in my head, nor do I have inspiration ….’”

If Hyde is right, then pursuing a claim that Cage’s moral rights had been infringed by Batts would be to assert a claim Cage himself did not believe in. If Cage had understood that, would he have refused to assert the claim? I think there’s a good chance of that. Would you sue someone for doing something you thought was a perfectly legitimate thing to do even if someone told you that if you sued them you’d get money? It’s important to understand that a lawyer represents the client, not the client’s abstract legal rights. But when someone’s rights pass to another (whether by contract, by trust instrument, by will, or otherwise), the new owner of the rights may have his own idea of what is important to protect.

How much is that successor bound by the original right’s holder’s understanding and intentions? That is a very, very interesting and difficult question. Hyde is suggesting, I think, that Riddle and Peters Edition were really watching out for the concerns of Peters Edition and not for the concerns of John Cage as an artist, that Riddle might have done far more to preserve Cage’s legacy than he did by extracting some money from Batts for the John Cage Trust.

Cleveland Museum of Art allowed to use 50% of income from trusts for expansion; 1st time in Ohio since 1955.

A follow up to my posts (here and here) regarding the power of museums to deviate from the terms of a donor’s limitations on the use of money donated:

Last week, the Cleveland Museum of Art won permission from a Cuyahoga County Probate Court judge to use 49.99% of the income (not the principal) from 4 trusts over a period of 10 years (up to an amount not to exceed $75 million) to finance the museum’s ongoing renovation and expansion. The 4 trusts were established in 1920, 1935, 1938, and 1952. It is the first time since 1955 that the museum has sought such relief from the terms of a donor’s trust, which is also the last time such relief has been sought by any museum in Ohio.

These facts plainly do not justify the fears the museum’s critics hold up as the consequence of such rulings.

ADDENDUM: The Art Law Blog was right on top of this, and also has written, commented upon, and linked to articles about the background.

How do we decide how a long buried corpse would want his art treated? And is the corpse’s former intent all we care about?

My post last week about art museums and the doctrine of deviation provoked in the comments precisely the kind of discussion/argument that I tried to point out is the whole point: how do we decide how to apply rules or other written expressions when they are applied in contexts that have radically changed. To literally apply the words written by a donor that restrict the use of a gift by an art museum when doing so would threaten the entire point of the gift (a thriving art museum) seems pretty absurd to me. If what we’re trying to do is discern a donor’s intent, shouldn’t we be a little more flexible?

Thus, I am particularly pleased to note Donn Zaretsky’s reference to the Philadelphia Inquirer’s conclusion that the new Barnes Foundation building (the subject of a couple of those comments to my original post) shows “obvious respect for Barnes’ legacy – for his idiosyncratic view of how art should be displayed and appreciated – should reassure supporters of the move.” That’s precisely the point: Barnes’ original bequest might have forbidden the move, but the result of his restriction, 60 years after his death, was the closing off of a multi-billion dollar collection of art to the wider public, strife between the Foundation and its neighbors, and a threat to the very existence of the Foundation itself. Isn’t it at least arguable that satisfying much of Barnes’ obvious intent — precisely how the art is housed and shown — while making it accessible to the world in a location where it is welcome is a reasonable effort to accommodate what he would have wanted? And isn’t it appropriate that we have institutions like courts to decide whether that reasonable argument or the opposing one (Barnes stated in his bequest the collection should never be moved, so it should never be moved, even if there are circumstances now that he did not anticipate and we could not predict his reaction to)?

And that’s not even to mention that there is a public interest involved. Are we to so honor “property” rights that we would sacrifice billions of dollars of the world’s culture to the whim of the owner? As Zaretsky asks in another post:

What if Barnes’s Will had provided that the works were to be exhibited in Merion for exactly 50 years — and then were to be burned in a big bonfire?

Should we honor donor intent in that case?

Or can we agree that sometimes the public interest trumps the donor’s intent?

Rules must allow for the inevitability of change: art museums and the doctrine of deviation

I’ve had my disagreements with Donn Zaretsky, the author of the Art Law Blog. But he’s dead on in his criticism last week of objections typified by Eric Gibson’s ”piece in the Wall Street Journal . . . about the Cleveland Museum of Art’s [CMA] request for court permission to use certain acquisition-restricted funds . . . to help complete its renovation/expansion. . . .”

As Zaretsky acknowledges, Gibson is sympathetic to CMA’s plight: “Clearly the museum has to do something. Nobody could have anticipated the events of a year ago, and [the museum's director] and his colleagues make a compelling case that the museum has to move forward with its expansion plan rather than mark time.” I would add that sympathy is worth the paper Gibson’s online piece is printed on. Yes, something has to be done. Maybe from New York an art museum, even a respected one, in Cleveland can be treated with condescension, but as a native Clevelander who happily moved back after 13 years of professional life in NYC, I can appreciate that the Cleveland Museum’s self-description accurately describes the importance of the institution:

The Cleveland Museum of Art means many things to many people. To the residents of Greater Cleveland, it is a beloved civic asset, a place where the community’s greatest aspirations find expression, and a backdrop for many a wedding photo. The museum is a major force in the regional cultural and intellectual community, helping to keep Northeast Ohio a vibrant center of learning and artistic endeavor. As one of the nation’s top museums, the CMA has long exhibited leadership in acquisitions, presentation, and education, and its curators have originated many groundbreaking exhibitions. The Cleveland Museum of Art is renowned the world over for the extraordinarily high quality of its holdings (which are in constant demand for loan exhibitions) and for both the intellectual rigor and the public spirit of its daily activity.

And CMA is no dusty holdover from the days when John D. Rockefeller and his contemporary Cleveland industrialists funded a cultural life of one of the richest and most dynamic cities in the country. Earlier this year, as Gibson also notes, it “completed Phase I of a $350 million, eight-year expansion and renovation plan that, when completed in 2012, will increase the museum’s size by nearly 50%, significantly expand exhibition space, and enhance the museum in other ways.” But, of course, “[l]ast fall, with the start of the second and last phase of the plan on the horizon, the museum found itself caught in what Michael J. Horvitz, the board’s chairman, calls “a perfect storm”: With $138 million remaining to be raised, philanthropy dried up, the credit markets froze, and the museum’s endowment plummeted—to $558.5 million as of June 30 this year from $736 million before the crash.”

Gibson, however, is paralyzed with fear that “the precedent this could set”if the court grant’s CMA’s request to use funds restricted for use to the acquisition of art. You have to to worry about what [art museums] might do if given an opening to finesse the rules governing restricted endowments.” As Zaretsky notes, “Lee Rosenbaum makes a similar point . . . . Cleveland’s actions,” she says, “unchecked, would set a dangerous precedent that could have a negative impact on future benefactions, just when museums need help the most.”

This is garbage. As Zaretsky points out: “The doctrine of deviation, upon which the museum relies, has been around forever. If the court grants the museum’s application, it won’t be creating an opening that other museums will then come rushing through, but allowing it to pass through an opening that was always there.” Moreover, the CMA’s has used the doctrine of deviation in the past in a responsible way, and there’s no reason to think, given the obvious need even its critics acknowledge, to think that if it convinces the court to allow it, that the decision would be a precedent for museums everywhere suddenly to act irresponsibly. Nor should we make rules that don’t permit courts to look at individual cases and grant relief from restrictions no longer serving any useful purpose just because we’re afraid someone may try to get away with fooling a court into letting them act irresponsibly. As Zaretsky points out, those who fear that allowing the CMA to be released from the restrictions imposed on its use of certain funds because circumstances demand it would create a bad precedent are blind to the fact that the rules that allow precisely that have been around and worked well for a long time:

The “opening to finesse the rules” has existed for this very museum with respect to these very funds for more than 50 years. It seems safe to say they haven’t exactly been abusing the privilege. Once again, the people who run our nation’s museums are not naughty schoolchildren who need to be penned in by simple, black-and-white rules.

And the rules set no strict standards. The legal doctrines that grant relief from restrictions on contributions made by donors require that “present circumstances have made it impossible, unlawful, or impracticable to adhere to the original terms of the donation . . . [or] the administrative terms of a gift . . . hamper the accomplishment of the gift’s purposes.” Emmeline Barton, Relief from Gift Restrictions: Cy Pres and Deviation, Harvard Law School Art Law Client Newsletter at 7 (Spring 2007).

I do wish people like Gibson and Rosenbaum would bother, before spouting off, realize that others long ago might not only have shared those opinions but also managed to work their way through to a reasonable way of accommodating the entire range of concerns raised in connection with those opinions. If the CMA can’t convince the court that circumstances merit relief from the restrictions on the funds they want to use, the court won’t let them. And we shouldn’t stop them because we’re afraid someone else might not deserve the same type of relief they’re seeking.

Is Holden Caulfield still only J.D. Salinger’s character?

J.D. Salinger recently filed a lawsuit (complaint (pdf)) seeking to block the publication of 60 Years Later: Coming through the Rye, an unathorized sequel to Catcher in the Rye, on the grounds it infringes Salinger’s copyright in the novel and in Holden Caulfield, the “narrator and essence of that novel.”

It’s an interesting case.  In SunTrust Bank v Houghton Mifflin Co., 268 F.3d 1257, 60 U.S.P.Q. 2d 1225, 14 F.L.W. Fed. C, 1391 (2001, 11th Cir.), rehearing denied en ban, 275 F3d 58 (11th Cir. 2001), the owners of the copyright to Gone With the Wind sued the publisher that owned the rights toThe Wind Done Gone, a critique of the depiction of slavery and the Civil-War era American South and that used and drew upon the characters and story line from Gone with the Wind.  The court ordered the lawsuit dismissed because The Wind Done Gone’s use of the characters and story line from Gone with the Wind constituted fair use.  The court’s conclusion was that TWDG was a protected parody of GWTW because one of its principal purposes was to critique the worldview advanced  by GWTW:

TWDG is more than an abstract, pure f ictional work. It is principally and purposefully a critical statement that seeks to rebut and destroy the perspective, judgments, and mythology of GWTW. Randall’s literary goal is to explode the romantic, idealized portrait of the antebellum South during and after the Civil War. In the world of GWTW, the white characters comprise a noble aristocracy whose idyllic existence is upset only by the intrusion of Yankee soldiers, and, eventually, by the liberation of the black slaves. Through her characters as well as through direct narration, Mitchell describes how both blacks and whites were purportedly better off in the days of slavery: “The more I see of emancipation the more criminal I think it is. It’s just ruined the darkies,” says Scarlett O’Hara.GWTW at 639. Free blacks are described as “creatures of small intelligence . . . [l]ike monkeys or small children turned loose among treasured objects whose value is beyond their comprehension, they ran wild – either from perverse pleasure in destruction or simply because of their ignorance.” Id. at 654. Blacks elected to the legislature are described as spending “most of their time eating goobers and easing their unaccustomed feet into and out of new shoes.” Id. at 904.

It seems that any sequel is bound to comment on the original in one way or another. Does that mean any sequel is a non-infringing fair use of the original work? I doubt it, but where would the line go between a sequel sufficiently critical of the original and a sequel that merely exploits the value the author created in the original?

To catch a thief . . . crowdsourcing?

BostonHerald.com’s Blog is using “crowdsourcing” in an effort to solve the 1990 theft of 13 paintings and other artworks from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. Now, the blog reports, a “twitter.com user named GardnerTheft has been posting links to our articles and others.  Check out the info-tweets at twitter.com’s web site (search: GardnerTheft).  With just a click you’ll see frequently updated news, insights, ideas and blog posts.”

As the Boston Herald Blog explains, its effort to capture the collective effort of interested internet users was inspired by the success of an earlier online effort in connection with the case.

When medical illustrator Nicole C. Wolf produced her digital paintings to update the renderings of the two Gardner thieves, the public got the best images of the robbers ever produced.  Wolf’s work, done in anonymous collaboration with one of the Gardner guards on duty during the theft, has led to dozens of new leads for the museum’s investigator, Anthony M. Amore.

With those tips in mind, it’s time to provide more information about the two thieves’ physical descriptions. Each detail is aimed at jarring the memories of people who know the behavior patterns of many in the criminal underworld.

In 2005, the Boston Globe ran its own detailed review of what was known about the Gardner art heist, summing up the events as follows:

Museum officials say they take heart in the fact that some masterworks stolen from other museums have surfaced after many years. But like the investigators, the museum’s leaders are baffled by how little progress has been made since thieves entered the museum in the early morning hours of March 18, 1990, as St. Patrick’s Day festivities in the city wound down.

They are baffled especially because the thieves, though bold and clever, were hardly meticulous professionals. They took no great pains to avoid being seen, nor were they careful to avoid damaging the masterpieces they were stealing.

They posed as Boston police officers, and even though they flashed badges and wore insignias, their long coats were not part of any official uniform. The Globe located several passersby who remember seeing them sitting quietly in a red hatchback near the museum’s side entrance, perhaps waiting for a St. Patrick’s Day party in a nearby apartment building to break up before making their move. And their disguises left their faces uncovered, giving the guards a good look at them. 

Once inside, the thieves ripped a Vermeer, three Rembrandts — including his only seascape — five Degas drawings, and a Manet from their wall placements, smashing them out of their frames and leaving shards of glass and remnants of canvas behind. The thieves took some of the museum’s greatest treasures but left behind some even more valuable objects.

When they were done for the night, they made two trips to their car with the loot. Then they vanished.

Where the paintings were, empty frames now fill the museum’s walls.

Online markets may be doing more to reduce the looting of antiquities than the always feuding museum directors.

Archaeology reports on the unforeseen consequences of “the emergence of eBay, the Internet auction site that, among other things, lets people sell looted artifacts.” The looting of archaeological sites has always been a problem, but before the internet reduced the costs of showing, selling, and transporting the loot, archaeologists “could at least take some comfort that [the market in illegal artifacts] was largely confined to either high-end dealers on one end of the economic spectrum or rural flea markets on the other.” Thus, the new technology raised the specter the democratization of trafficking and, as a result, widespread looting. “This seemed a logical outcome of a system in which anyone could open up an eBay site and sell artifacts dug up by locals anywhere in the world. We feared that an unorganized but massive looting campaign was about to begin, with everything from potsherds to pieces of the Great Wall on the auction block for a few dollars.”

But instead, looting has diminished. Why? “The short answer is that many of the primary ‘producers’ of the objects have shifted from looting sites to faking antiquities.”

The economics of these transactions are quite simple. Because the eBay phenomenon has substantially reduced total costs by eliminating middlemen, brick-and-mortar stores, high-priced dealers, and other marginal expenses, the local eBayers and craftsmen can make more money cranking out cheap fakes than they can by spending days or weeks digging around looking for the real thing. It is true that many former and potential looters lack the skills to make their own artifacts. But the value of their illicit digging decreases every time someone buys a “genuine” Moche pot for $35, plus shipping and handling. In other words, because the low-end antiquities market has been flooded with fakes that people buy for a fraction of what a genuine object would cost, the value of the real artifacts has gone down as well, making old-fashioned looting less lucrative. The value of real antiquities is also impacted by the increased risk that the object for sale is a fake. The likelihood of reselling an authentic artifact for more money is diminished each year as more fakes are produced.

Another economic factor–risk of arrest–is also removed by eBay fakes, since you can’t be arrested for importing forgeries. Should you import what you think is an illegal antiquity but it turns out to be a fake, you run little risk of prosecution. The risk from lawsuits or criminal charges is effectively removed from the sale of antiquities when they are not really antiquities, a fact that reduces the cost and risk to both buyer and seller.

Transport cost is also dramatically reduced by commerce on the Web. One vendor on eBay advertises a Greek marble head dated to around 300 B.C. For this “rare artifact,” the shipping costs from Cyprus are a whopping $35 to anywhere in the United States. This is a far cry from the old days when a real illegal antiquity had to be couriered by a specialist who not only knew how to care for the piece, but how to doctor it up to avoid being arrested at customs. The same is true for objects from just about every well-known ancient culture in the world. Chinese, Bulgarian, Egyptian, Peruvian, and Mexican workshops are now producing fakes at a frenetic pace.

I have written previously of James Cuno’s Who Owns Antiquity? Museums and the Battle over our Ancient Heritage and the ongoing debate over the ownership of antiquities, particularly those antiquities housed far from their origins in the museums of the Western powers. Cuno has published another volume addressing the issues, Whose Culture? The Promise of Museums and the Debate Over Aniquities, a collection of essays by other art historians arguing in favor of housing these treasures in “Encyclopedic Museums” charged with the stewardship on behalf of all of humankind. Cuno would argue that, for example, artifacts produced by the Hittites belong no more to the Turks, in whose territory those artifacts are found, than they do to the entirety of humanity.

Hugh Eakin reviews both of Cuno’s books, discussing many of the issues I raised in my earlier post. But he also makes the important point that recent moves by U.S. museum directors make many of these difficult questions  far less important as a practical matter, despite the passions inevitable in the conflict between those who claim to be defending their national heritage against those who claim to stand up for the sanctity of art and its preservation.

Last year “the directors of the leading art museums of the United States agreed to limit their acquisitions of antiquities to works that have left their “country of probable modern discovery” before 1970, or that were exported legally after that date.” Eakins points out the importance of this agreement:

[I]n choosing 1970 as a cutoff date-the symbolic year of a UNESCO convention against the illicit circulation of material deemed by particular nations to be their cultural property-the museums have eliminated the possibility of acquiring most of the ancient art available for sale today. In effect, the museum directors have made it clear that, for American museums, collecting antiquities has largely come to an end; and with it the system of private collectors and dealers that has sustained it since the late nineteenth century. (emphasis added)

There are several implications to the end of large-scale collecting of antiquities by U.S. museums. First, many antiquities (most likely looted) are in the hands of wealthy private collectors, precisely the patrons on whom major museums depend for donations. “Now that museums have adopted rules that prevent the acquisition of many ancient objects still in private hands, they must find other ways of retaining that support.”

In addition, countries that have asserted ownership over any art found within their borders have to face the failures of those laws, which primarily have worked to drive the trade in looted antiquities even further underground.

And now we know too that the trade in antiquities is being squeezed by the trade in fakes.

Shepard Fairey, AP, and Dirty Hands

While here at Geniocity today I’m wishing my family had our own backyard wind turbine, Remix America asked me to weigh in as a guest blogger on the latest from the copyright and fair use dispute between Shepard Fairey and AP.

Germany: we’ll still return art stolen by the Nazis.

In connection with yesterday’s post regarding art looted by the Nazis, the Art Law Blog announces “that Germany has rejected Sir Norman Rosenthal’s call for an end to Nazi restitution cases.”

Is it time to get on from where we are and stop returning art stolen by the Nazis to the heirs of its original owners?

My friend and former student John Kelley — who now is Compliance Manager for Baystate Health but has had extensive experience in the art market — points me to an article in the German magazine Spiegel Online, which discusses British art connoisseur Sir Norman Rosenthal’s call for an end to the return of artworks looted by the Nazis to the heirs of the original owners. Although it was not until the late 1990’s that an international consensus was reached that artworks should be restored to the families of the people from whom the Nazis had stolen them, since then, according to the article, the idea has ” seemed undisputed”; after all, “[w]ho would challenge the legitimacy of the claims of the heirs of Nazi victims to their family property?”

But, as the article points out, Museums have at times disputed their obligation to return such works on the grounds that “they acquired the works in question legally and in good faith.” Individual owners have made the same argument. More recently, though, at least one prominent German member of the art world has argued that the practice of returning the art to the families of the original owners should stop because the families have been motivated by money, not by their love of the artworks:

The best-known opponent of restitution in Germany is Bernd Schultz, 67, the director of the Berlin auction house Villa Grisebach. In a speech at the Chancellery two years ago, Schultz accused the heirs of having a purely financial interest in looted art: “They say Holocaust, but they mean money.” He has never retracted the statement.

That argument seems on its face, to me, a bit disingenuous. The works that are fought over, of course, are works that are worth an enormous amount of money. If they weren’t, the issue would not be the huge one it’s been. Why shouldn’t a family who, but for the Nazis, would have had a work of art or the right to dispose of it as they had seen fit not have a better claim to it than someone who succeeded to the claim of someone who succeeded to the claim of the original thieves and murderers?

But Sir Norman’s argument is different: “[h]is motives include the desire for reconciliation” and the desire to settle issues that leave current owners who have no reason to doubt the legitimacy of their ownership rights subject to claims. It does indeed seem that at some point the sheer passage of time ought to settle one’s rights. But have we reached that point? And are we really at a point at which the vast majority of current owners have no reason to doubt the legitimacy of their rights?

The fact Sir Norman, who is himself the child of survivors and has no desire to downplay the importance of Nazi crimes, may well mean where getting closer to the day when, in his words, we must get on from where we are and “[w]e can no longer wipe history clean.”

Free Speech, Copyright, and Fair Use: We can express ourselves any way we want, even in ways that “steal” your own forms of expression, unless there’s a good reason to stop us.

Calling the right a creator has in his or her work intellectual property is misleading. It conveys the imipression thatthe work is property in the same way a television of a piece of land is property. You can fence in land. You can stop anyone from using your television. But intellectual property is not personal property the way things are and it is not real property the way land and the buildings attached to land are. Artists often think otherwise. In an interview on myartspace.com, for example, Steven Bogart, asked about his position on copyright, says simply, “Artists have a right to control their images and the right to be credited. ”

He might wish it so, but it isn’t so. Plainly, the lawsuits that result in findings that the use of copyrighted works are non-infringing fair use of copyrighted works all involve uses over which the artists have no control. If they had control, there’d be no lawsuits. Nor does fair use require crediting the artist whose work is used without consent.

There are many, many reasons underlying the fact U.S. law does not treat the product of creative expression like it treats personal or real property. Among them may be some comprehension that creativity is not the individual act of divine inspiration that Romantic poets believed and that in fact resulted in the rise of copyright as we know it.

But another, and very American reason U.S. law does not treat the products of creative expression the same ways it treats land holdings or the products of manufacturing is that the use of creative expression, authorized or not, is itself expression, and the freedom of expression is at the very core of what it means to be American. The fair use doctrine, which allows the use of copyrighted materials in certain circumstances without the consent of the owner of the copyright, is based squarely on the First Amendement’s guarantee of the freedom of expression.

Accordingly, in determining whether the unauthorized use of copyrighted work is non-infringing fair use, courts look at, among other things, whether the challenged use has a negative impact on the commercial market for the copyrighted work. While the commercial damage to the copyrighted work is a significant factor, Christina Bohannon, a law professor at the University of Iowa, believes that the importance of the right to free speech should require that it should be required in order for a court to find infringment. As she explains in the abstract to her paper, “Copyright Harm and First Amendment,” a showing of harm is required in every single other constitutional restriction on free speech and there is no justification for treating copyright differently:

Copyright law is a glaring and unjustified exception to the general rule that the government may not prohibit speech without a showing that the speech causes harm. While the First Amendment sometimes protects even harmful speech, it virtually never allows the prohibition of harmless speech. Yet, while other speech-burdening laws, such as defamation and right of publicity laws, require demonstrable evidence that the defendant’s speech causes actual harm, copyright law does not make harm a requirement of infringement. Although copyright law considers harm to the market for the copyrighted work as a factor in fair use analysis, harm is not always required and is so poorly defined that the concept has become circular. Moreover, the defendant ordinarily bears the burden of proof to show the absence of harm. As a result, courts often find liability for infringement (and therefore burden speech) where harm is purely speculative.

Potential explanations for copyright’s anomalous treatment are unpersuasive. Copying involves speech as well as conduct, and the fact that copyrights are in some sense property does not come close to justifying its aberrant treatment. Moreover, copyright’s role in encouraging creative expression does not obviate First Amendment concerns. Rather, it provides a way to reconcile copyright law and free speech. Drawing substantially from First Amendment cases holding that speech restrictions must be justified by a governmental interest, this article argues that the First Amendment requires real proof of harm to the copyright holder’s incentives in order to impose liability for copyright infringement. It also explores the types of harm that might arise in copyright infringement cases and considers whether the First Amendment permits recognition of these types of harm. The article concludes that although demonstrable market harm is cognizable under First Amendment principles, recognition of harm to the reputation of copyrighted works, the author’s right not to speak or associate, or the copyright holder’s privacy interests is generally not compatible with the values of free speech.

Of course, I could say in response to Professor Bohannon the same thing I say to those who say artists do have the right to control their work and to attribution for any use of their work. You may wish it were so, and there may even be reasons to believe your position merits my sympathy, but that assertion isn’t the law and doesn’t make it the law.

Buying art? Buyer beware!

I teach Contracts.  One funny thing about the topic is that the “law” that applies to any given transaction is the contract itself.  In other words, if the words of the agreement (which can be written and/or oral) determine the outcome of a given situation, those words almost always control.  There are very few “immutable” contract rules — that is, rules that cannot be changed by agreement of the parties to the contract.

Thus, much of teaching contract law concerns the interpretation of contracts and “default” rules — that is, rules that apply to situations the parties have not agreed about.  Perhaps that is why I so often like using cases involving the sale of art in my classes — they so often require the understanding of the default rules.  As Joshua Kaufman, a lawyer in D.C., recently pointed out in a talk at the Smithsonian Museum, art transactions typically involve the least paperwork of any sort of commercial transaction:

“The art business is unique,” Kaufman said, “in terms of paperwork and due diligence. It has the least amount of paper of any commercial transaction.” That means you go into a gallery, buy what you like, and the dealer hands you a receipt for your purchase. Perhaps you even get a little paper describing the provenance. But buyer beware! The art market is filled with complexities, especially when it comes to auction houses.

Sorry, but your political enemies can use your copyrighted works (as long as their use is fair use).

Many people believe that an artist’s rights in her work include the right to prevent the use of the work on behalf of causes and beliefs she does not believe in. That may be true in Europe; it is not true in the U.S., provided that the use the artist is trying to deny does not exploit the markets created by the original work. In other words, politicians with whom singers disagree may well have the right to use excerpts from those singers’ songs. And the producers of movies that advance views with which the singers take strong exception may not have any worry as long as they are using the songs they are using aren’t being used merely to attract an audience to the movie by use of the song.

Times Higher Education explains the difference between European and Anglo-American law:

The later European view of copyright regarded a published work as the author’s offspring as much as his property, endowing him with inalienable moral as well as tradeable commercial rights. The Anglo-American tradition in copyright, which is based firmly in the notion of property and income, resisted this concept.

Thus, in June, a federal court in New York City denied Yoko Ono’s request for an injunction against further showing and distribution of the movie Expelled, which, as I have previously written, criticizes evolution, promotes the teaching of intelligent design, and, in the process, uses 15 seconds of John Lennon’s song “Imagine.”

As I wrote when Ono’s lawsuit was first filed, If the filmmakers had tried merely “to capitalize on the film as soundtrack material that would be attractive to an audience would likely not be fair use, but, if, as seems likely, the song is quoted to criticize its atheism, that use would likely constitute fair use, regardless of whether Ono finds the users’ message objectionable.” The court, apparently, thought similar things (citations and footnotes omitted; hyperlink added):

Defendants’ use is transformative because the movie incorporates an excerpt of Imagine for purposes of criticism and commentary. The filmmakers selected two lines of the song that they believe envision a world without religion: “Nothing to kill or die for/ And no religion too.” (”Imagine” lyrics) As one of the producers of “Expelled” explains, the filmmakers paired these lyrics and the accompanying music to a sequence of images that “provide a layered criticism and commentary of the song.” The Cold War-era images of marching soldiers, followed by the image of Stalin, express the filmmakers’ view that the song’s secular utopian vision “cannot be maintained without realization in a politicized form” and that the form it will ultimately take is dictatorship. The movie thus uses the excerpt of “Imagine” to criticize what the filmmakers see as the naïveté of John Lennon’s views. The excerpt’s location within the movie supports defendants’ assertions. It appears immediately after several scenes of speakers criticizing the role of religion in public life. In his voiceover, Ben Stein then connects these sentiments to the song by stating that they are merely “a page out of John Lennon’s songbook.” In defendants’ view, “Imagine” is a secular anthem caught in a loop of history recycling the same arguments from years past through to the present. We remind our audience that the ideas they just heard expressed from modern interviews and clips that religion is bad are not and have been tried before with disastrous results.”  The filmmakers “purposefully positioned the clip . . . between interviews of those who suggest that the world would be better off without religion and an interview suggesting that religion’s commitment to transcendental values place limits on human behavior. . . . mak[ing] the point that societies that permit Darwinism to trump all other authorities, including religion, pose a greater threat to human values than religious belief.”

Defendants’ use of “Imagine” is similar to the use at issue in a recent decision of the United States Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit in which fair use was found, Blanch v. Koons. There, the visual artist Jeff Koons copied photographer Andrea Blanch’s photograph from a fashion magazine without permission and incorporated a portion of it into one of his paintings.  . . . As in Blanch, defendants here use a portion of “Imagine” as “fodder” for social commentary, altering it to further their distinct purpose. Just as Koons placed a portion of Blanch’s photograph against a new background, defendants here play the excerpt of the song over carefully selected archival footage that implicitly comments on the song’s lyrics. They also pair the excerpt of the song with the views of contemporary defenders of the theory of evolution and juxtapose it with an interview regarding the importance of transcendental values in public life. Plaintiffs contend that defendants’ use of “Imagine” is not transformative because defendants did not alter the song, but simply “cut and paste[d]” it into “Expelled.” As the foregoing discussion illustrates, however, this argument draws the transformative use inquiry too narrowly. To be transformative, it is not necessary that defendants alter the music or lyrics of the song. Indeed, defendants assert that the recognizability of “Imagine” is important to their use of it.  Defendants’ use is nonetheless transformative because they put the song to a different purpose, selected an excerpt containing the ideas they wished to critique, paired the music and lyrics with images that contrast with the song’s utopian expression, and placed the excerpt in the context of a debate regarding the role of religion in public life. Plaintiffs also contend that defendants’ use of “Imagine” is not transformative because it was unnecessary to use it in order to further the purposes defendants have articulated.

Determining whether a use is transformative, however, does not require courts to to decide whether it was strictly necessary that it be used. In Blanch, although certainly Koons did not need to use Blanch’s copyrighted photo, as opposed to some other image of a woman’s feet, in his painting, the Second Circuit did not suggest that this lack of necessity weighed against a finding of fair use. Similarly, in Bill Graham Archives, the Second Circuit found a transformative use in the defendants’ unauthorized inclusion of several of the plaintiff’s images-principally concert photos-in a coffee-table book about the musical group the Grateful Dead.  Although the defendants manifestly could have proceeded without the plaintiff’s , which constituted only a small part of the book, this posed no obstacle to a finding of fair use.

As I said, I think the use of “Imagine” by the filmmakers without permission is legitimate fair use. Nonetheless, Lennon, and “Imagine” in particular, are being misrepresented. Lennon’s song imagines a world unpolluted by religious sectarianism, not exactly a radical view in light of the issues of the day. But that’s not a view many can find tolerable, even in the U.S. of 2008, and they’ll resort to misrepresentation to support their intolerance.  One day after the decision against Ono, the Wall Street Journal ran a story with the headline The Case Against John Lennon.  The quote that highlights the column?

Nothing to live or die for — what a nightmare.

Mike Thomas points out that the line is “Nothing to kill or die for” and asks:

What is going on here? Why is the WSJ promoting a column with such a provacative title and using a misquote to mislead readers into a negative reaction against John Lennon? The column itself is a mess. It is poorly written, jumbled and fails to adequately explain how John Lennon or his song “Imagine” has anything to do with what the column appears to be about. Here is the pertinent section that mentions Lennon:

“Mr. Sharansky has a new book, titled Defending Identity. It would be equally accurate to call it The Case Against John Lennon. Or, more specifically, the case against ‘Imagine,’ Lennon’s anthem to a world with ‘no countries . . . nothing to kill or die for/And no religion too.’ For Mr. Sharansky, a nine-year resident of the Perm 35 prison camp, that’s a vision that smacks too much of the professed beliefs of the ex-Beatle’s near namesake, Vladimir Ilyich.’

What the hell? Does he think he’s being clever or something? Lennon sounds like Lenin. Get it? So obviously they must be related or they must think alike or something right? Nevermind that “Lenin” was actually an alias for Vladimir Illich Ulyanov, while the surname Lennon dates back hundreds of years to old Ireland.

No, they sound alike so there must be a connection. Right? Kind of like how Obama sounds like Osama so they must be related too. Yeah. That’s the level of reasoning that the column sinks to.

Absolutely pathetic.

And of course he never goes back and explains how V.I. Lenin’s brutal and dictatorial ways have any similarity or correlation to Lennon’s ode to world peace. But fortunately for the cretins who run the WSJ editorial pages, John Lennon is dead and can’t defend his classic work against their asinine columnist’s offhanded smear.

Here’s Ken Miller, a biologist from my alma mater speaking at Case Western Reserve University, from which I am currently on leave, speaking on intellligent design, evolution, and religion:

Living the life of an artist or stealing? Coldplay faces the question once again

The Chicago Tribune reports: “A day after hauling in seven Grammy nominations, the members of Coldplay should’ve been celebrating. Instead they were served with a copyright infringement lawsuit Thursday that claims they ripped off guitarist Joe Satriani to write one of their biggest hits, ‘Viva La Vida.’”

And a comparison of the songs sure makes Satriani’s allegations credible:

There must be something about that song.  A band called Creaky Boards earlier this year accused Coldplay of stealing Viva La Vida from them:

As TechDirt subsequently reported, however, the leader of Creaky Boards later “not only retracted his accusation, but suggested that perhaps both bands were actually “inspired” by the “Fairy Theme” in the Legend of Zelda.”  TechDirt also made this, very important point:

. . . The thing is, part of the point we keep trying to make around here is that, for the most part, that’s true of just about everyone. It’s the overly aggressive use of copyright law that prevents that sort of “goodness” from showing up. Oh, and it’s also worth mentioning, that this little story has definitely increased the profile of The Creaky Boards — proving one of the points we recently made about plagiarism. Even if the plagiarist is “bigger” than you, the original creator can use that to their advantage aswell.

Plagiarism, even “unconsciously” done, has gotten musicians in trouble. In Three Boys Music v. Michael Bolton, a federal court of appeals upheld a jury award of $5.4 million against Michael Bolton and Sony (the record company associated with him) for “unconsciously” plagiarizing the Isley Brothers’ “Love is a Wonderful Thing.” As noted by the Columbia Law Library Music Plagiarism Project, the case is comparable to Bright Tunes Music v. Harrisongs Music, in which the court held that in his hit song “My Sweet Lord” George Harrison had “unconsciously misappropriated the musical essence of ‘He’s So Fine.’”

The decision against George Harrison has been heavily criticized.  It is important to note, though, that “plagiarism” involves issues entirely different than the ones (contentious themselves) involving sampling. Most importantly, it involves drawing those impossible lines between artistic influence, legitimate appropriation, and acts that are considered the equivalent of theft. Bob Dylan is without question one of the most important artists of our time, but, as John Pareles has written in “Plagiarism in Dylan, or a Cultural Collage?”

The absolutely original artist is an extremely rare and possibly imaginary creature, living in some isolated habitat where no previous works or traditions have left any impression. Like virtually every artist, Mr. Dylan carries on a continuing conversation with the past. He’s reacting to all that culture and history offer, not pretending they don’t exist. Admiration and iconoclasm, argument and extension, emulation and mockery – that’s how individual artists and the arts themselves evolve. It’s a process that is neatly summed up in Mr. Dylan’s album title ” `Love and Theft,’ ” which itself is a quotation from a book on minstrelsy by Eric Lott.

Hip-hop, ever in the vanguard, ran into problems in the mid-1980’s when the technique of sampling – copying and adapting a riff, a beat and sometimes a hook or a whole chorus to build a new track – was challenged by copyright holders demanding payment even for snippets. Although sampling was just a technological extension of the age-old process of learning through imitation, producers who use samples now pay up instead of trying to set precedents for fair use.

Check out the following.  Led Zeppelin was covering Kansas Joe McCoy and Memphis Minnie, but Dylan claims the authorship of and the copyright in his song.  Of course, the copyright in the first song had expired, so Dylan’s song is not an legally infringes nothing:

I have made it a point on this blog to point out that historically many “Writers, like other artisans, considered their task to lie in the reworking of traditional materials according to principles and techniques preserved and handed down to them in rhetoric and poetics – the collective wisdom of their craft.”  In short, there is nothing unusual about Dylan’s compositional methods.  That’s not to say that Coldplay isn’t in legal trouble as a result of Satriani’s lawsuit.  It’s to say that we’re in a cultural moment in which people are ready to find theft and “plagiarism” where there may not be any.  Is Coldplay making money that really belongs to Satriani?  Would Satriani’s song have gotten a greater audience had Coldplay’s never been released?

ADDENDUM, from Wired:

Joe Satriani accused Coldplay of plagiarism for lifting elements of his song “If I Could Fly” for its hit song “Viva La Vida” earlier this year.

Now, videos depicting  similarities between the songs are disappearing from YouTube courtesy of Coldplay’s label, EMI, which claims the videos infringe on its copyright. We found one that’s still online, which you can view to the right, for the time being.

You can still hear the Coldplay song elsewhere on YouTube, including in user-generated videos, so it seems likely that EMI is removing the comparison videos due to embarrassment on the part of Coldplay and/or legal ramifications for the ongoing Satriani suit, as Music Industry Blog posits. One imagines that a judge or jury would merely need to see one of these videos to conclude that there’s a striking similarity between the songs… probably too striking.

It’s conceivable that the Chris Martin lifted the beat, chords and melody from Satriani subconsciously. It’s not uncommon for musicians to hear something and regurgitate it later without realizing it. Coldplay has been accused of stealing someone’s music before — for the same song, no less. And another YouTube video has cast doubt on these claims by showing that all three bands could owe a debt to some guy called Günther.

We’re not so interested in the spat between Satriani and Martin; plagiarism accusations abound in the music world. What’s interesting here is that EMI appears to be using copyright as a way to remove one version of a Coldplay song while allowing other versions to remain online. It’s a useful reminder of the ways in which copyright law can be used for purposes other than thwarting the infringement of copyright. In this case, it’s a somewhat useful tool for downplaying plagiarism accusations directed at one of the world’s top acts.

Many labels have deals with YouTube that allow their works to appear in user-generated videos, because doing so can net them more of YouTube’s ad revenue (artists and labels sometimes can get paid when someone synchs their music to user-created video on YouTube). Apparently, these deals involve the ability to pull certain objectionable usages for reasons other than copyright, although the message that appears on YouTube — “This video is no longer available due to a copyright claim by EMI Music” — appears a bit disingenuous. If copyright were the issue, a YouTube search for “coldplay viva la vida” wouldn’t return 32,700 results.