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.

All Creative Work is Derivative

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; . . .

Literature is theft.

Plagiarism is a puzzling vice. No writer, if he or she were honest about it, would ever deny that, when they come across a good thing in someone else’s work, consciously or unconsciously they store it up for a rainy day. “Literature,” the American journalist James Atlas likes to say, “is theft.” He’s right. The history of books and writing supports this provocative assertion to the hilt.

[I borrowed that.]

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.”

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.

Cuckoo Kookabura — Culture as the Language of Art

I wrote in November of the claim by the owners of the copyright in the Australian chestnut Kookaburra Sits in the Old Gum Tree that Men at Work had infringed Kookabura’s copyright in their 1981 #1 hit Men Down Under. The claim is ridiculous. As the Sydney Morning Herald reported at the time, “[t]he key, harmony, structure and rhythm of Down Under’s famous riff changed the sound of it so much that nobody – not the band, [the managing director of the company that owned the copyright to Kookaburra], or even five out of six [of the game show] panellists . . . noticed it until someone turned it into a quiz show question.”

But now, as Celebrity Justice (among others) reports, “[a]fter a 3 year fight, a federal court in Australia has ruled against favorite sons Men At Work saying they plagiarized one portion of the Kookaburra tune and will now owe some of their royalties to the publishing group who bought the rights to that song in 1990.”

As CNN reports, the judge in his decision wrote that “I would emphasise that the findings I have made do not amount to a finding that the flute riff is a substantial part of Down Under or that it is the ‘hook’ of that song.”

Whether the judge’s decision will withstand appeal under Australian copyright law is beyond my expertise, but the suggestion that the quotation of a copyrighted song in a new work constitutes copyright infringement would make a travesty of the notion of fair use under U.S. law. My zealousness on this question is not merely the result of the argument that I made in my November post — that the “transformative” nature of Men Down Under is proven by the way it alters the melody it takes from Kookabura and the failure of anyone to recognize the borrowing for 29 years. It is also because that being able to “quote” works that have resonance and meaning in our culture is fundamental to artistic creation. Kookabura is fundamental to Men Down Under as a song because Men Down Under, from its title to its performers to its lyric to its video is about Australia, and the use of a musical phrase from Kookabura is as resonant a way to convey Australia as there is.

Instead of recognizing what Lewis Hyde calls the “Cultural Commons,” many people have the knee-jerk impulse people have to identify cultural creations as “property” and thereby equate them to real estate or cars or something. Beside the rather large fact that property rights are limited in all sorts of ways in order to advance social goals (you can’t have a pig farm in the middle of a suburb, you can’t paint your house fuschia in most places, and the government can take your property if it pays you a fair (and rather low) price for it, etc.), that knee-jerk reaction entirely ignores how cultural creations draw (and must draw) on existing cultural creations, and how those creations then achieve meaning in the social sphere and are used to convey meaning in the social sphere. Copyright exists to feed, not hinder, creation, and the sooner we under what creativity really involves the more creative a culture we’ll have.

You be the judge: are Men at Work plagiarists or composers?

Archers Daniel Midland abuses copyright law to censor criticism — corporations have the right to free speech, but not the people who criticize them?

Some corporations apparently believe in free speech for themselves but not for individuals. The first video below is a deadly dull piece of propagandistic pap in which Patricia A. Woertz, Chairman, President and CEO of Archer Daniels Midland (ADM), USA drones on (someone get her better training for dealing with the media!) about ADM’s profound importance to feeding the world. The piece was produced in advance of the recent Annual Meeting of the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland.

ADM has, top it mildly, been the subject of considerable ire, criticism, and even criminal prosecution for price fixing (the subject of Matt Damon’s recent film The Informant and Fair Fight in the Marketplace, an excerpt of which appears below’s Woertz’s blathering), political corruption, destruction of the rainforests, and the forced labor of children.

A couple of days ago I posted on my Facebook page what I thought was a hilarious edit of the Woertz video in which some of her original words were retained and many were dubbed over to make it appear as if she were speaking openly on behalf of an evil multinational bent on the gross and horrific exploitation of the world and especially of multinational food markets. I thought it was hilarious piece of political critique. No one could have mistaken it as an “official” ADM production, but plainly it hit a nerve at ADM.

Today I noticed that when I click on the video on my Facebook profile a message appears that it is “no longer available due to a copyright claim by Archers Daniel Midland Company” and that if I click through to YouTube there’s no page for the video at all, not even a page with the same empty video box and takedown message.

This is outright copyright abuse. Criticism is fair use. When anyone asks whether in fact fair use is grounded in the Constitution’s guarantee of free speech, all you need is to think of a situation like this — one can appropriate copyrighted works to criticize and parody the copyright holder. And to use the copyright laws to silence that critique has nothing to do with protecting intellectual property and the rights of a creator to profit from his, her, or its creation: it’s unconstitutional censorship! (Peter Bouchard wrote a good summary yesterday on ” The Battle against Bogus Takedowns, a topic I’ve touched on in the past.”

What is a Judicial Author?

I have posted on SSRN a copy of an article entitled “What is a Judicial Author?” I presented several years ago at a conference. I have learned to my utmost gratitude that Lewis Hyde will be quoting and citing the article in his forthcoming, much-anticipated book on the cultural commons. As the article’s abstract explains:

This paper, originally presented in draft at the Con/Texts of Invention Conference sponsored by the Society for Critical Exchange, examines the ways in which judges write opinions, the ways experienced and inexperienced legal readers conceptualize judges as authors, and the affect these conceptions have on the way they read those opinions. The paper describes judicial writing as a quintessential example of collaborative writing, a view corroborated by the ways experienced lawyers use and interpret judicial opinions in practice. The judicial opinion is not, as lay opinion grounded in the Romantic view that forms contemporary common wisdom would have it, the original work of the wise and creative judge pronouncing from on high. Rather, the opinion itself is a piece cobbled together from a number of other sources that include established law, the lawyers’ written and spoken legal arguments, secondary legal sources, and earlier opinions that were themselves built up from the bits and pieces floating through the legal discourse community. Nevertheless, conventional legal thinking has since at least the 19 th Century through today propounded the notion of the judge as quintessentially Romantic author-creator. This clash between legal practice and the conventions of legal (and especially academic) discourse poses real and neglected problems in legal education, especially in the ways the Romantic view of judicial authorship instills in students habits of reading.

AP shoots itself (twice) in the Copyright Wars.

The Associated Press occupies a controversial place in the so-called “Copyright Wars,” and it certainly isn’t making many friends anywhere in recent news. First, on December 31 of last year, AP filed its Amended Answer to Complaints, Crossclaim, Counterclaim., and a cross claim against Mannie Garcia. In that document, AP contends that it, not Garcia, owns the copyright in the photograph Garcia took of then candidate Obama that Shepard Fairey subsequently used as the source material for the (in)famous Hope poster. AP’s contention rests on the assertion that Garcia was acting within his the scope of his duties as a staff photographer for AP when he shot the photo and that it therefore constituted a “work for hire.”

There are, I think, two sets of allegations in AP’s latest filing that are interesting in terms of whether Fairey’s use of the photograph as source material for the poster constituted a non-infringing fair use. First, AP states that Garcia was sent to the event at which he shot the photo by AP in order to take photos such as the disputed one. Second, AP states that Garcia sent “several” of those photos to AP and that AP chose the photo it decided ultimately to publish. One might think these allegations reduce the extent to which Garcia can claim the shot was one so much of his own choosing. He was assigned to take the shots he took, he took a lot of them, and AP, not Garcia, chose the one that fit its purposes best.

AP also goes right after Garcia, accusing him in its counter-claim of committing fraud in registering his own copyright in the photo on the grounds that AP’s ownership of that copyright under the work for hire doctrine was so plain that Garcia knew he at the time he filed the copyright registration that he wasn’t entitled to do so. It might not be the only accusation of dishonesty hurled at Garcia in this case.

Meanwhile, AP, of course, has been quite vocal about voicing its contention that “news aggregators” infringe AP’s copyrights on a regular basis. No matter your view on the legitimacy of the infringement claim, there’s lots of reason to believe that AP’s stance is bad business. Google seems to have been a principal target of AP’s complaints, and yet shutting Google off (something, incidentally, AP could do at any time) would seem likely to drive traffic away from AP’s stories.

Well, Google seems to have called AP’s bluff. The Guardian reports that “it has become apparent that new Associated Press stories are no longer appearing on the site, which has hosted them since 2007. Google hasn’t added new AP content since December 24.“

DJ Earworm – United State of Pop 2009 (Blame It on the Pop) – Mashup of Top 25 Billboard Hits

Is a music video with no original content “transformative” if I like it better  than any of the top 25 hits of the year it samples and it explains partly why that is? I think so.

Breaking through to the other side: the music and publishing industries are dying. Music and writing will live on in new ways, and we’re living through the revolution.

My sister, Amy Friedman, is a brilliant writer who, like most artists I know who make their livings as artists, has managed to make her way by working her butt off doing a million different writerly things. She wrote a weekly column for the Kingston Weekly Standard, Canada’s oldest newspaper. In 1992 she began to write Tell Me a Story, which, on a weekly basis syndicated by Universal Press Syndicates, produces an “original story or a children’s classic accompanied by a captivating illustration that will launch the imagination.” She must now have written over a thousand of these stories. Two compilations of these stories have been published as books, Tell Me a Story and The Spectacular Gift. She personally produced 3 CD collections of these stories read by actors and backed by music composed specifically for each work. (You can buy them here, individually or as a 3 CD boxed set). Each one of the CDs has won numerous awards, and the most recent was the Winner of 2009 Parents Choice Gold Medal and 2009 NAPPA Gold Medal for story telling. John Wood of Kid Muzic wrote of the first CD: “The talent is first-rate from top to bottom. The stories literally jump off the CD and into the listener’s imagination – I love the choices on all levels! This is the real deal”

Amy has also written 2 works of non-fiction, Kick the Dog and Shoot the Cat and Nothing Sacred: A Conversation With Feminism. She continues to write and publish both fiction and nonfiction for newspapers, magazines and literary journals. She also performs her stories, often accompanied by musicians, in schools and at summer festivals. She is presently working on a novel, a collection of short stories and a television adaptation of Tell Me a Story. She’s a brilliant teacher of writing too.

In short, Amy is an artist, she works like hell at it, she produces brilliant work, and she has never, to put it mildly, been economically secure in the way, say, many of my law students expect to be.

So I took it very seriously when she sent me the following yesterday:

All the authors I know, every one of them, is freaking out. Celebrity books. No reviewers anywhere. Insane advances to celebrities leaving nothing left for others, no reviewers, too many reviewers, Kindle, celebrity books, the death of Editor and Publisher and Kirkus Reviews, all the authors I know are freaking out. If my memoir had gone to editors even three years ago, it would be sold by now. Everyone’s scared. Whaddya think? http://bit.ly/5O2CQI

I’m choosing not to freak out. I’m choosing to say, this too shall pass, and it will enliven the art world in some new way. (That’s my prayer, anyway)

In the article Amy linked to, Katharine Weber, a former National Book Critics Circle board of directors member, novelist and short story writer, details some of the changes wrought by the internet on book publishing and concludes, among other things, “That literary work will continue to lose value as it is seen even more as just another form of communication, rather than as a work of art with its own integrity.”

There are 2 important points I want to make here: (1) I do not write incessantly about copyright and the slippery notion of authorship as some ivory tower intellectual without strong connections to artists and art art of all sorts, and (2) I have a very personal stake in these questions. So this (with some slight edits) is what I wrote back to Amy yesterday:

Not freaking out is always the better choice. I can’t think of a situation in which freaking out adds value; in fact, I can’t think of a situation in which freaking out doesn’t considerably worsen the situation.

But the fact so many people are freaking out is, in my opinion, because we’re living through a frigging technological revolution. Come on, you remember your Marx. The stuff he was brilliant about: material and economic reality determine cultural reality. Cultural reality has an effect on material reality too. That’s why the experience of a cultural freakout is not a healthy thing. It leads to bad decisions. Had Jack Valenti and the entire film industry had their way, there would be no VHS machines, no CD and DVD burners, etc., etc. But it turned out that the VHS was the biggest financial boon the film industry had ever experienced.

The way we produce, copy, and disseminate information had entirely changed. Anyone sitting in a coffee shop can produce a document that looks as if it’s been typeset. (And I’m sure my students have no clue what typesetting is.) That document can be copied at virtually no cost, and disseminated world-wide at virtually no cost. So, guess what? The entire publishing industry as we’ve known it is a walking corpse. You can almost imagine the zombie image composed of parts of Sarah Palin, Oprah, Dan Brown, and Tiger Woods lumbering down Manhattan’s avenues.

What will result? I don’t know yet. But I strongly disagree with Katherine Weber’s statement that “literary work will continue to lose value as it is seen even more as just another form of communication, rather than as a work of art with its own integrity.” The idea that literary work is anything other than a vast cultural discussion is a relic of the Romantics.

And there will still be books bought. They’ll be read on electronic readers a lot and in codex form a lot – I’m pretty sure demand for the scroll and the inscribed tablet has vanished entirely. And there will be some illicit copying and distribution (that might not in the end result in a net loss to the author).

But sure, publishing houses and anyone who’s convinced her livelihood is dependent on publishing houses is freaking out. Let them. The recording industry once had a monopoly on producing and distributing recorded music. Now any kid can do it on his laptop. And musicians are still making money. The music industry will scream and scream that the internet is killing it, but that’s because the music industry’s ways of producing and distributing music over the past 100 years have as much relevance today as the horse and carriage industry’s ways of producing and distributing means of transportation had after the automobile became widely used.

As Mike Masnick at techdirt has written, a recent report by 2 British economists (pdf) demonstrates that “the UK music industry is actually growing. Let me repeat that: despite all of the whining and complaining about the state of the music industry, some of the music industry’s own economists are admitting that the market is growing. Not surprisingly, it found that retail product sales have declined, but the other parts of the industry have grown noticeably more than the decline in retail sales. This growth has come from a few sources. Live show attendance has increased more than retail sales have decreased. Consumers have actually spent more. On top of that, the business to business side of the industry (sponsorships, licensing, advertisements, etc.) has grown as well, opening up new and lucrative means of making money.”

Neither Masnick nor I would paint the present situation has some new technologically produced utopia — too much of the money in the music industry is going to touring artists from the ancient days of our youths, among other things. But the point he is making is that trying to pass laws and create digital locks and promote misleading propaganda is not going to recreate a model of producing and distributing recorded music that no longer makes any sense.

Something new is developing, there’s no stopping it, and the thrilling thing is that we are part of creating it.

If I had to bet, I suspect in the long run we’ll probably end up with fewer writers making too much money, and more making at least some.

But there’s been literature for what, at least 3000 years? The fall of the structure which produced and sold it in the 20th Century capitalist West won’t mean there won’t be great literature. There may be more. I really think so.

I bought and started re-reading Lewis Hyde’s Trickster Makes this World yesterday. The Trickster is the character who operates between realms, at doorways, through openings that others don’t cross either because they don’t see them or they’re afraid of what’s on the other side. (The intro to Hyde’s book is available as a pdf here — provided by Hyde himself.) And the trickster is the artist. If there’s ever been a doorway to a new reality in the world of literature, we’re facing it head on. Let’s break on through to the other side!

Nesson continues to blame others for his lousy job of lawyering.

The  Harvard Law Record reported yesterday on Charlie Nesson’s address to : a room full of HLS students to explain his motivations and methods as the lawyer representing Joel Tenenbaum in Sony BMG Music v. Tenenbaum, the case that resulted in a $675,000 judgment against his client.

I have on more than one occasion expressed my harsh views regarding Nesson’s lawyering in the case (here and here). But the Harvard Law Record’s story only adds fuel to my fury at Nesson’s lawyering skills. According to the story, “When the case first came to his attention, Nesson knew that there was little chance of victory on the merits, with the only truly viable strategy at trial being the minimization of damages.” (emphasis added)

The RIAA cannot have been happy about the way it looks after winning a judgment of $675,000 from a kid, especially since, as Nesson with some degree of accuracy explains, “[w]hat Joel did in downloading and sharing songs was what just about every kid in his generation did and which I bet a great many of you did.” The RIAA was anxious to settle a similar case in which it won $1.92 million from Jammie Thomas-Rasset for illegally downloading 24 songs. As Mike Masnick wrote, the RIAA “seems to recognize that the insanity of the $1.92 million doesn’t do it any favors. Even the musicians whose music was part of the case are embarrassed by the amount. . . . the RIAA would love to settle the lawsuit for some lower amount so it can run around touting the ‘risks’of file sharing without having people laugh outloud when hearing that someone had to pay $1.92 million for potentially sharing 24 songs that could be bought for $1 each.”

And Tennenbaum quite plainly had the ability to minimize damages through settlement rather than by means of Nesson’s tactic of going to trial. In February, Ars Technica reported that the “RIAA’s initial offer to settle, made way back in 2003, was for $3,500. Joel offered $500, which was declined. After the case went to court in 2007, the judge ordered the parties to settle and work it out between themselves. Joel offered $5,000. The RIAA demanded $10,500.”

And yet Nesson, realizing that “there was little chance of victory on the merits” and that the only viable way of representing his client’s best interests was to minimize the amount of his liability, failed to settle a case that at most would have cost his client $10,500 (assuming, contrary to any notion of common negotiating sense, that the RIAA would not have moved off of its last offer).

The Harvard Law Record’s story goes on to state that “the evidence presented by the RIAA . . . made it look like Tenenbaum blamed others and lied,” thereby interfering “with his effort to appear credible and sympathetic.” The problem is that the evidence didn’t merely make it “look like” Tenenbaum lied. He admitted in trial that had lied in sworn statements he had made before trial that he had not used peer-to-peer file sharing networks to download and upload recordings.

I’ve said it again and again. I’m no fan of the RIAA. The recording industry’s business and legal responses to the technological revolution that has deprived them of their former monopoly on the means of mass producing and distributing recorded music have been, to my legal and business mind, idiotic. But Nesson was Tenenbaum’s lawyer. His professional judgment as a lawyer was that any legal defense to the RIAA’s claims had little chance of success and that the best lawyering job he could do for his Tenenbaum was to minimize the damages he would be liable for. Nesson clearly had the opportunity to do so. That he passed up that opportunity in a quixotic fight for a principle might be something a lot of people admire, but it’s terrible lawyering.

Breathlessly waiting for Murdoch to be sued . . . or wither on the web?

The Kwika Entertainment Blog (reprinting a piece from the Huffington Post) breathlessly announces that “if Microsoft and [Rupert Murdoch's] News Corp. go forward with a deal whereby News Corp. demands that Google stop indexing its websites, don’t be surprised if it leads to one of the most important copyright lawsuits in history.”

Don’t bet on it.

Google’s display of snippets from News Corp’s web pages for search engine purposes is almost certainly fair use. Can you imagine a Google snippet ever serving as a substitute for the original? If not, then the snippet is fair use. And copying the entire site for the sake of creating the snippet is fair use too.

The idiotic part of Murdoch’s move would be that, assuming Google allows Murdoch’s publications to “opt-out” of Google (as Google does for any site — all you have to do is insert some code into your site to exclude your site from Google’s indexing), the result will be that Murdoch’s publications will lose all that traffic Google generates. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Murdoch has always had the option to opt out of Google. The other stupid player here might be Microsoft — why pay to index something that will only be losing readership?

Fair Use, Fairy Tales, and Collage: more proof Girl Talk won’t be stopped

Professor Eric Faden of Bucknell University created this brilliant account of copyright principles delivered through the words of the very folks we can thank for nearly endless copyright terms. The fact it has never been forced down is to me proof positive that legitimate, non-infringing fair use can consist entirely of copied and pasted copyrighted works. Which is proof positive to me that I am right in believing that Greg Gillis/Girl Talk  need not worry should he ever be sued for infringement of the copyright of any of the samples he uses.

I do think this video is deficient in one respect: it doesn’t sufficiently discuss the importance in the fair use analysis of the originality of the allegedly infringing work — it suggests parody, journalism, and criticism are legitimate, non-infringing uses of small parts of copyrighted works, but it doesn’t connect these individual examples of transformative work to the larger point: if the allegedly infringing work stands on its own — if it uses the copyrighted work to express something the copyrighted work doesn’t express to reach an audience for a different purpose than the copyrighted work’s audience comes to the copyrighted work for — then it is “transformative” and very, very likely not to be infringing. (If it is tranformative, it’s not going to have an impact on the market for the original or any of the original’s reasonably anticipated derivative uses.)

The funny thing is that the video doesn’t discuss the larger issues relating to the nature of the allegedly infringing work and how tranformative it is, but the video itself is entirely transformative:

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.

Cukoo Kookaburra copyright claim

In 1980, Men at Work released Down Under, and in 1981 it was a #1 song in Australia, Britain, and the U.S. In 2007, 26 years later, a game show contestant identified Kookaburra Sits in the Old Gum Tree as the nursery rhyme the song’s riff was based on. The contestant needed prompting. It’s no surprise he had trouble thinking about where the tune had come from. As the Sydney Morning Herald reports, “[t]he key, harmony, structure and rhythm of Down Under’s famous riff changed the sound of it so much that nobody – not the band, [the managing director of the company that owned the copyright to Kookaburra], or even five out of six [of the game show] panellists . . . noticed it until someone turned it into a quiz show question.”

But that didn’t stop the copyright holder from suing Men at Work, despite the fact it had bought the rights to Kookaburra in the 1980s “when it bought them for $6100 from the family of its late composer, Toorak School teacher Marion Sinclair.” In fact, one of its managing director’s jobs was to track down unauthorized uses — it’s a wonder he hasn’t yet gotten to the school chorus version below.

The mere fact the use went unnoticed for so long is itself, I think, evidence that its use in Down Under is fair use. If something is so transformed that it isn’t noticed even in a #1 hit, it must be transformative, right? I think Shepard Fairey’s Obama Hope poster is fair use for a similar reason — the photographer himself didn’t realize the poster was based on his own photograph. Copyright claims like the one against Men at Work pervert the very basis of so much we call creative. As the Morning Herald states, “The reuse of riffs is as old as rock’n'roll. And it’s a good thing, according to Martin Armiger, former member of the Sports and composer of music for The Secret Life of Us and Young Einstein. The 1955 hit Louie Louie by Richard Berry became the template for hundreds of songs including the Troggs’ Wild Thing and the Beatles’ Twist and Shout, he pointed out in his expert evidence for Men at Work and EMI.”

Or, as the KLF puts it, “Every Number One song ever written is only made up from bits from other songs.”

The EFF fights copyright overclaiming by means of public shaming

One of the problems of our legal system I’ve written about is the way its expense has conferred inordinate weight on sheer wealth. In copyright, this problem plays out in what is termed “copyright overclaiming” — the assertion of rights over content that is utterly misbegotten but not worth the expense of fighting. One means of fighting this abuse, I suppose, is public shaming, which is exactly what the Electronic Frontier Foundation is now doing with its “Takedown Hall of Shame,” a compilation of “[b]ogus copyright and trademark complaints have threatened all kinds of creative expression.”

Painting people whose images are protected — Alabama football, Tiger Woods, and Obama

The Tuscaloosa News reports that a decision is expected soon in the University of Alabama’s lawsuit against sports artist Daniel Moore. As the newspaper explains, the university “sued Moore for trademark violations in March 2005, alleging he painted scenes of Crimson Tide football games [such as the one at right] without permission from the university and reissued previously licensed prints without paying royalties. The university is seeking back pay for more than 20 paintings and wants Moore to license any future paintings.”

Although the decision is by no means binding on the court deciding the Alabama case, a lawsuit filed in 2000 by Tiger Woods and ETW Corporation, Wood’s licensing agent, against the artist Rick Rush might be illuminating. The focus of the Woods lawsuit were a group of Rush’s prints depicting Woods’s victory at the 1997 Masters. Woods sued to protect “his name and his image under right-of-publicity and trademark laws.” Rush, like Moore, argued his prints are protected by the First Amendment. The U.S. District Court and the U.S. Court of Appeals in Cincinnati (6th Cir.) agreed with Rush.

The Sixth Circuit’s decision is illuminating, not only with respect to the lawsuit between Alabama and Moore, but also with respect to the dispute between the AP, Manny Garcia, and Shepard Fairey. The court explained in reaching its decision that, like Andy Warhol’s paintings of celebrities, Rush’s paintings were sufficiently “transformative” to be entitled to First Amendment protection:

When artistic expression takes the form of a literal depiction or imitation of a celebrity for commercial gain, directly trespassing on the right of publicity without adding significant expression beyond that trespass, the state law interest in protecting the fruits of artistic labor outweighs the expressive interests of the imitative artist. On the other hand, when a work contains significant transformative elements, it is not only especially worthy of First Amendment protection, but it is also less likely to interfere with the economic interest protected by the right of publicity….

Accordingly, First Amendment protection of such works outweighs whatever interest the state may have in enforcing the right of publicity. . . . [I]n Comedy III Productions, Inc. v. Gary Saderup, Inc., 25 Cal.4th 387, 106 Cal.Rptr.2d 126, 21 P.3d 797 (2001)] the California [Supreme] [C]ourt []stated the test as follows: “Another way of stating the inquiry is whether the celebrity likeness is one of the “raw materials” from which an original work is synthesized, or whether the depiction or imitation of the celebrity is the very sum and substance of the work in question.”

. . . citing the art of Andy Warhol, the court noted that even literal reproductions of celebrity portraits may be protected by the First Amendment.

“ Through distortion and the careful manipulation of context, Warhol was able to convey a message that went beyond the commercial exploitation of celebrity images and became a form of ironic social comment on the dehumanization of celebrity itself…. Although the distinction between protected and unprotected expression will sometimes be subtle, it is no more so than other distinctions triers of fact are called on to make in First Amendment jurisprudence.”  Id. at 408-409, 106 Cal.Rptr.2d 126, 21 P.3d at 811 (citations and footnote omitted). . . .

The evidence in the record reveals that Rush’s work consists of much more than a mere literal likeness of Woods. It is a panorama of Woods’s victory at the 1997 Masters Tournament, with all of the trappings of that tournament in full view, including the Augusta clubhouse, the leader board, images of Woods’s caddy, and his final round partner’s caddy. These elements in themselves are sufficient to bring Rush’s work within the protection of the First Amendment. The Masters Tournament is probably the world’s most famous golf tournament and Woods’s victory in the 1997 tournament was a historic event in the world of sports. A piece of art that portrays a historic sporting event communicates and celebrates the value our culture attaches to such events. It would be ironic indeed if the presence of the image of the victorious athlete would deny the work First Amendment protection. Furthermore, Rush’s work includes not only images of Woods and the two caddies, but also carefully crafted likenesses of six past winners of the Masters Tournament: Arnold Palmer, Sam Snead, Ben Hogan, Walter Hagen, Bobby Jones, and Jack Nicklaus, a veritable pantheon of golf’s greats. Rush’s work conveys the message that Woods himself will someday join that revered group. . . .

We find, like the court in Rogers, that plaintiff’s survey evidence, even if its validity is assumed, indicates at most that some members of the public would draw the incorrect inference that Woods had some connection with Rush’s print. The risk of misunderstanding, not engendered by any explicit indication on the face of the print, is so outweighed by the interest in artistic expression as to preclude application of the Act. We disagree with the dissent’s suggestion that a jury must decide where the balance should be struck and where the boundaries should be drawn between the rights conferred by the Lanham Act and the protections of the First Amendment.

In regard to the Ohio law right of publicity claim, we conclude that Ohio would . . . [apply] a rule analogous to the rule of fair use in copyright law. Under this rule, the substantiality and market effect of the use of the celebrity’s image is analyzed in light of the informational and creative content of the defendant’s use. Applying this rule, we conclude that Rush’s work has substantial informational and creative content which outweighs any adverse effect on ETW’s market and that Rush’s work does not violate Woods’s right of publicity.

We further find that Rush’s work is expression which is entitled to the full protection of the First Amendment and not the more limited protection afforded to commercial speech. . . .

In balancing these interests against Woods’s right of publicity, we note that Woods, like most sports and entertainment celebrities with commercially valuable identities, engages in an activity, professional golf, that in itself generates a significant amount of income which is unrelated to his right of publicity. Even in the absence of his right of publicity, he would still be able to reap substantial financial rewards from authorized appearances and endorsements. It is not at all clear that the appearance of Woods’s likeness in artwork prints which display one of his major achievements will reduce the commercial value of his likeness. While the right of publicity allows celebrities like Woods to enjoy the fruits of their labors, here Rush has added a significant creative component of his own to Woods’s identity. Permitting Woods’s right of publicity to trump Rush’s right of freedom of expression would extinguish Rush’s right to profit from his creative enterprise.

The difference between Moore’s case and Rush’s principally seems to be that Moore’s painting’s are far more “realistic” than Rush’s (as the painting pictured above demonstrates). In contrast, Fairey’s Obama Hope poster is more like Warhol’s paintings of celebrities. The funny thing is that I have no doubt Moore’s paintings take more time and effort — but time and effort are not what is protected by the fair use test; rather, originality of expression is.

Make your point and move on; Fairey lied, but AP won’t establish he always does.

As I’ve said over and over again, lying messes you up. It robs you of credibility, a problem which inevitably is going to infect the decision maker’s view of the merits of your case. But when facing a liar, you can get carried away by his lies and take your eye off your own case. AP seems prone to this danger in its case against Shepard Fairey. Having established Fairey lied about knowing which photo he used in creating the Obama Hope poster, AP is now contending that Fairey lied when he claimed in January 2009 that he didn’t recall which photo he used.

I’m not sure why AP is pushing this point. First of all, it does not bear on the question of fair use at the heart of the case. Second, they’ve just been successful in establishing Fairey’s a liar. What more do they want? It will be far, far more difficult — and, as far as I can imagine, impossible — to establish that in January Fairey didn’t remember which photo he used (rather than incorrectly claiming later, after he’d reviewed his materials in connection with the preparation of the poster, which precise photo he’d used). And it’s not as if AP doesn’t have its own problems with credibility that it should make every effort to avoid.

And, again, as I wrote previously over at Remix America: Fairey and AP’s counter-accusations of illegitimate conduct are interesting but really irrelevant to the question of fair use in connection with the Obama Hope poster. So is the possibility that Garcia is lying about being angry at Fairey when Garcia first realized that the source of the poster was his photo. Of course, Garcia’s failure to realize this fact until he was told, even though he was very familiar with the poster, may be relevant — if the photographer didn’t realize the source was his photo, isn’t that some evidence the poster so thoroughly transformed the photo it stands on its own as a creative work?

But, more to the point of this post: if Garcia didn’t realize in January the photo was the source of the poster, isn’t it credible that Fairey didn’t either? AP gained ground this week in outing a lie; now it may be trying to go to that tactic too often.