If you think you’ll come up with a really original idea, you’re just kidding yourself.

In The City and the City, China Mieville writes a police procedural that takes place in “[t]win southern European cities Beszel and Ul Qoma,” which “coexist in the same physical location” but are “separated by their citizens’ determination to see only one city at a time.” When I read the novel I marveled at the originality of the premise. Of course, as Mieville himself recognizes in an interview on BLDGBLOG, there’s nothing new under the sun:

I should say, also, that with the whole idea of a divided city there are analogies in the real world, as well as precursors within fantastic fiction. C. J. Cherryh wrote a book that had a divided city like that, in some ways, as did Jack Vance. Now I didn’t know this at the time, but I’m also not getting my knickers in a twist about it. If you think what you’re trying to do is come up with a really original idea—one that absolutely no one has ever had before—you’re just kidding yourself.

You’re inevitably going to tread the ground that the greats have trodden before, and that’s fine. It simply depends on what you’re able to do with it.

That indeed is where artistic genius resides — not in the originality of the thought, but in what the artist does with the thought.

Noy Alooshe: Zenga Zenga

Five Seconds Of Every #1 Pop Single Part 1

Five Seconds Of Every #1 Pop Single Part 1 by mjs538

There’s no such thing as a free sample? That’s ridiculous.

It’s arguments like those set forth in Curtis Smolar’s column, “There’s no such thing as a free sample,” that give the music industry and its advocates a bad name. He’s wrong — or, at the very least, more prescient than I, in concluding that “[t]here’s no such thing as a free sample.” As I’ve written about at length in the past, the music industry’s practice of requiring payment for any sample of recorded music was a self-interested decision by the music companies themselves in the wake of 2 court decisions, the legitimacy of which are subject to serious question, that are not controlling precedent in most of the country.

Smolar begins his column stating, “Just because something is commonplace doesn’t always mean it’s legal.” I would counter that with this: just because the record companies made a decision back in 1991 that they each would pay for permission to use recorded samples of each other’s music doesn’t mean that payment is required.

Smolar also seems to imply that because fair use is used as a defense to copyright claims and can be characterized as an “exception” to the real rule that any use of a copyrighted work constitutes infringement it somehow has little importance. One could just as easily characterize fair use in this way: Under the First Amendment to the Constitution, 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. In short, copyright is an exception to the foundational right to free expression.

But Smolar isn’t interested in being accurate — he appears interested only in scaring anyone off of unlicensed sampling. He and his ilk haven’t been too successful in that effort. But then why would he be successful in scaring people if he misrepresents the law as egregiously as he does when he states that “[sampling fails to meet each and every one of the four prongs of the" statutory elements courts consider in determining whether the use of copyrighted material constitutes fair use. It's a whole lot more complicated than that. First, of course, the four-part test does not call for an "either-or" determination on each factor. So it's just plain wrong to write "[t]he use must be for non-commercial purposes.” It’s not true either that “[t]he nature of the copyrighted must be in the public interest.” The mere fact someone samples the identifiable part of a song does not make the sampling an infringement either. Finally, Smolar states that sampling damages the market for the song from which the excerpt was taken “because the new song may be purchased for as much as the original.” I’m not sure what that means. He can’t possibly mean that if I get Girl Talk’s “Triple Double” I therefore wouldn’t buy “Steppin’ Out” by Joe Jackson. But all he might otherwise mean is that if Girl Talk’s songs are so good that people are willing to pay a lot of money for them (though they can get them for free), that can’t be right. The more the appropriation is valued in its own right, the more “transformative” it is and, therefore, the more likely it constitutes fair use.

But Smolar isn’t interested in the law. He’ just interested in scaring people into believing they’ll be sued by the record industry if they sample anything.

Addendum: For an good discussion of fair use and its complexities (in a context entirely divorced from music), see “Fair Use Controversy: The Gift That Keeps On Giving.”

Friday Night Mashup (in further memory of John Lennon): DJ Danger Mouse – The Grey Video

Matt Ridley: When ideas have sex

Why hasn’t Girl Talk been sued? My answer, sampled and remixed in a new article

Why hasn’t Greg Gillis, who performs and records as Girl Talk, been sued despite (1) the fact his music consists entirely of recorded samples of other recordings, (2) his high profile and success, and (3) the music industry’s insistence — based on very shaky legal grounds — that no recorded sample can be appropriated without permission?

Well, I’ve been saying it for a long time, and I believe I was the first — Gillis is just too good:

I am a lawyer just like the lawyers representing Metallica, the Guess Who, and anyone else whose work has been sampled and repurposed by Gillis. And if were advising one of these clients (or I were representing the RIAA and could influence the lawyers for Metallica and the Guess Who), I would advise that client not to sue Girl Talk; Gillis’s argument that he has transformed the copyrighted materials sufficiently that his work constitutes non-inringing fair use is just too good. I’d go after someone I am more likely to beat. Othewise, I’d lose all the leverage I have with the existence, as yet undisputed in case law, of the decisions in Grand Upright Music and Bridgeport Music.

And now comes Joe Mullin, of paidContent.org explaining Why The Music Industry Isn’t Suing Mashup Star ‘Girl Talk“:

So why hasn’t Gillis been hauled in front of a judge by the music industry? Probably because he’s the most unappealing defendant imaginable. Gillis would be a ready-made hero for copyright reformers; if he were sued, he’d have some of the best copyright lawyers in the country knocking on his door asking to take his case for free.

At the Electronic Frontier Foundation, probably the most well-funded public interest group working in the copyright space, lawyers have made it clear for years that they’re positively eager to litigate a case over music sampling, which they believe is a clear-cut case of fair use.

And I’ve said it before myself. I’d love to represent Gillis in that case should it ever come about.

Be creative? Question Authority. Even the CIA thinks so.

Who would’ve thought that the Central Intelligence Agency — often ridiculed by describing its name as an oxymoron — might have such useful resources on creative thinking and problem solving. A chapter on “Keeping and Open Mind” from The Psychology of Intelligence Analysis, sums up the attitude and mind-set any lawyer and law student must cultivate to address the problems they face, problems that — due to the infinite variety of human experience — cannot be solved by merely finding and applying rules:

Creativity, in the sense of new and useful ideas, is at least as important in intelligence analysis as in any other human endeavor. Procedures to enhance innovative thinking are not new. Creative thinkers have employed them successfully for centuries. The only new elements–and even they may not be new anymore–are the grounding of these procedures in psychological theory to explain how and why they work, and their formalization in systematic creativity programs.

Learning creative problem-solving techniques does not change an analyst’s native-born talents but helps an analyst achieve his or her full potential. Most people have the ability to be more innovative than they themselves realize. The effectiveness of these procedures depends, in large measure, upon the analyst’s motivation, drive, and perseverance in taking the time required for thoughtful analysis despite the pressures of day-to-day duties, mail, and current intelligence reporting.

A questioning attitude is a prerequisite to a successful search for new ideas. Any analyst who is confident that he or she already knows the answer, and that this answer has not changed recently, is unlikely to produce innovative or imaginative work. Another prerequisite to creativity is sufficient strength of character to suggest new ideas to others, possibly at the expense of being rejected or even ridiculed on occasion. “The ideas of creative people often lead them into direct conflict with the trends of their time, and they need the courage to be able to stand alone.”

Steinski talks about the origins of musical mashups

Innovation comes from remixing what we already have.

I’ve written frequently about the myth that creative genius is the product of solitary inspiration and the ways that myth reinforces notions of intellectual property that, under the pretense of rewarding innovation, in fact stifle innovation by preventing the re-use and remixing of existing ideas, creations, and inventions. In reviewing Steven Johnson‘s Where New Ideas Come From, Paul Crowe makes the point that

Greek philosophers said nothing comes from nothing, a new idea, actually a new anything, is simply a rearrangement or unique new combination of things that already exist. When you think of it that way, coming up with new ideas isn’t about having that mysterious “creative” ability, it might be more about a willingness to try lots of new combinations to see what might work, and, hey, anyone can do that, you just need desire and effort.

Steven Johnson, Lawrence Lessig, & Shepard Fairey at the NY Public Library on Mashup & Remix

The myth of authorship and the rise of a new artistic culture

As I’ve pointed out previously, my colleague and friend Martha Woodmansee‘s scholarship is fundamental to the reexamination of the historical bases of our present conceptions of “authorship”:

An “author” in the modern sense is the creator of unique literary, or artistic, “works” the originality of which warrants their protection under laws of intellectual property — Anglo American “copyright” and European “authors’ rights.”

Now Abram Sinnreich, in Mashed Up: Music, Technology, and the Rise of Configurable Culture, extends these insights into the quirks that have produced our notion of authorship and the ways the radical changes in the technological realities governing the creation and distribution of artistic works is undermines that notion. truthdig has posted a substantial excerpt, the entirety of which (like the book, no doubt) is well worth reading. Here’s just a taste, one that begins to develop the relationship between the current conventional wisdom of what an author is and its relationship to our social obsession with converting public goods into private property:

The biggest myth of all is the Romantic notion that artists somehow create their work uniquely and from scratch, that paintings and sculptures and songs emerge fully-formed from their fertile minds like Athena sprang from Zeus. Running a close second is the myth that only a handful of us possess the raw talent – or the genius – to be an artist. According to this myth, the vast majority of us may be able to appreciate art to some degree, but we will never have what it takes to make it. The third myth is that an artist’s success (posthumous though it may be) is proof positive of his worthiness, that the marketplace for art and music functions as some kind of aesthetic meritocracy.

Of course, these myths fly in the face of our everyday experience. We know rationally that Picasso’s cubism looks a lot like Braque’s, and that Michael Jackson sounds a lot like James Brown at 45 RPM. We doodle and sing and dance our way through our days, improvising and embellishing the mundane aspects of our existence with countless unheralded acts of creativity. And we all know that American Idol and its ilk are total B.S. (very entertaining B.S., of course!). Each of us can number among our acquaintance wonderful singers, dancers, painters or writers whose creations rival or outstrip those of their famous counterparts, just as each of us knows at least one beauty who puts the faces on the covers of glossy magazines to shame.

And yet, we believe the myths. How could we not? Who among us has the time, the energy, or even the motivation to buck the overwhelming support the myth of the Artist receives from the institutions that govern our society – to dispute our schools, our churches, even our laws? What is copyright, after all, but the legal assertion of an individual’s sole ownership over a unique artifact of creative expression? These laws, sometimes enforced at gunpoint, require us to believe the myths, or face the consequences.

Of course, there’s a reason the myths exist. Our economy runs on the privatization of hitherto public goods. Our legal system is premised on the individual as the locus of all rights, all liability, all blame. Our society’s profound inequalities are only acceptable because we believe ourselves to live in a meritocracy, a world where a person’s success is de facto proof of his or her inherent worthiness. In short, the myth of the Artist-with-a-capital-A allows us to believe in America-with-a-capital-A.

If you think lawyers lifting other lawyers’ language is proof lawyering is easy, you know nothing about true creativity.

There’s always the danger that when someone suggests that genuine creativity can and is built from earlier creative works that someone else will believe the implication is that creativity is no big deal. If I feel I can cut-and-paste from other lawyers’ works then lawyering must be nothing but a cut-and-paste job, right?

It’s not as if I’ve never dealt with these matters for real, as if I’m dealing with it from an academic perspective “unsullied” by the realities of practice. A client who retained me to draft a contract for him once said to me, after we’d spent a considerable amount of time discussing the details of his deal, “It’s all boilerplate, right?”

I responded, “I don’t do boilerplate. Every deal is different, and if you know the lawyer who’s done exactly your deal before and you’re confident the contract he wrote then is just fine for you, go hire him.”

Which isn’t to say I didn’t review a lot of other contracts or that I didn’t lift language from those other contracts. I did. I took a line or two from this one, a paragraph from that, another line from another, etc. And I put those things all together with my notes, shuffled things around, revised a lot of the language I’d lifted from other sources, wrote far more language necessary to express what was necessary to express this particular deal, worked and reworked, checked and rechecked, revised and revised, and at the end I had a document that set forth the client’s deal in all its precision, breadth, and ambiguity. It wasn’t boilerplate at all. But were there lines and even, perhaps, a paragraph lifted from other contracts? Of course.

I obsess about these matters in part because there is terrible confusion about what genuine creativity (in art, music, literature, the practice of law or a myriad of other endeavors) is. The confusion arises because, I believe, there is so much money at stake in the legal and rhetorical wars over copyright. So there are a lot of people who will look at Shepard Fairey’s Obama Hope poster and the photo Fairey used as the poster image’s source, and write things like the following:

Any director, writer or actor interested in making long-term money in the entertainment industry should be calling Fairey what he is: A plagiarist.

While I recognize the attitudes underlying these views — no one else is entitled to make a buck from my work! — the blindness to the creativity involved, even acknowledging the appropriation, is astounding. I’ve gone on at length about my view on this, but no one can deny that Fairey’s poster had a profound resonance and impact during the 2008 presidential campaign, and no one can suggest that the poster would have had any similar impact if the original photo had appeared on the poster rather than Fairey’s reworking. So how can anyone possibly suggest the level of creativity in the poster wasn’t profound?

The KLF “were one of the seminal bands of the British acid house movement during the late 1980s and early 1990s.” Their relevance here is that, “despite their protestations of 1988 about not wishing to be seen as crusaders for sampling, the [KLF] continue to be associated with the cultural movement which retrospectively bundles together those literary and artistic works that make use of ‘creative plagiarism’. 1987: What the Fuck Is Going On? is considered a landmark work in the early history of sampling music in the United Kingdom.” Their #1 British hit, “Doctorin’ the Tardis” “is predominantly a mash-up of the Doctor Who theme music, Gary Glitter’s ‘Rock and Roll (Part Two)’ with sections from ‘Blockbuster!’ by Sweet and ‘Let’s Get Together Tonite’ by Steve Walsh.”

Jimmy Cauty and Bill Drummond — who were the KLF — are also very smart fellows. Among a never-ending series of creative works in a wide range of media, they wrote The Manual: How to Have a Number One the Easy Way, which I’ve heard some describe as a cynical con job but that is far more intelligent and complicated than that. On the one hand, The Manual explains

Every Number One song ever written is only made up from bits from other songs. There is no lost chord. No changes untried. No extra notes to the scale or hidden beats to the bar. There is no point in searching for originality. In the past, most writers of songs spent months in their lonely rooms strumming their guitars or bands in rehearsals have ground their way through endless riffs before arriving at the song that takes them to the very top. Of course, most of them would be mortally upset to be told that all they were doing was leaving it to chance before they stumbled across the tried and tested. They have to believe it is through this sojourn they arrive at the grail; the great and original song that the world will be unable to resist.

But Drummond and Cauty are not accusing successful musical artists of being “mere plagiarists.” They recognize that even if a song can be broken down into bits and pieces of other songs, there is real genius in great pop music:

So why don’t all songs sound the same? Why are some artists great, write dozens of classics that move you to tears, say it like it’s never been said before, make you laugh, dance, blow your mind, fall in love, take to the streets and riot? Well, it’s because although the chords, notes, harmonies, beats and words have all been used before their own soul shines through; their personality demands attention. This doesn’t just come via the great vocalist or virtuoso instrumentalist. The Techno sound of Detroit, the most totally linear programmed music ever, lacking any human musicianship in its execution reeks of sweat, sex and desire. The creators of that music just press a few buttons and out comes – a million years of pain and lust.

Lewis Hyde makes a similar point in Common as Air, the new book that was the starting point for my exploration the other day of lawyerly “plagiarism”:

“Intellectual property” is the phrase now used to denote ownership of art and ideas, but what exactly does it mean? Does it make sense, to begin with, to say that “intellect” is the source of the “properties” in question? A novel like Ulysses, the know-how for making antiviral drugs, Martin Luther King, Jr’s “Dream” speech, the poems of Rimbaud, Andy Warhol screen prints, Mississippi Delta blues, the source code for electronic voting machines: who could name the range of human powers and historical conditions that attends such creations? All that we make and do is shaped by the communities and traditions that contain us, not to mention by money, power, politics, and luck. And even should the artist or scientist think she has extracted herself from the world to stand alone in the studio, a tremendous array of faculties and mind- states may well attend her creativity.

There is intellect, of course, but also imagination, intuition, sagacity, persistence, prudence, fantasy, lust, humor, sympathy, serendipity, will, prayer, grief, courage, visual acuity, ambition, guesswork, mother wit, memory, delight, vitality, venality, kindness, generosity, fortitude, fear, awe, compassion, surrender, sincerity, humility, and the ability to integrate diametrically opposed states of mind into harmonious wholes . . . We would need quite a few new categories to fully map this territory — “dream property,” “courage property,” “grief property” — and even if we had that list, only half the problem would have been addressed.

Do you want a great lawyer? You can have one even if he cuts-and-pastes the work of other lawyers into his work. But please — don’t believe for a second that means that lawyering can be reduced to cutting-and-pasting. Lawyering requires as much creativity as any endeavor on earth — if I didn’t believe that why would I write a blog devoted to law and creativity? And creativity is infinitely more complex a matter than tracking down the bits and pieces that make up the creative work. It requires the imagination necessary to find those bits and pieces, the vision to understand how to select and fit them together to due the present job, the skill borne of years of work to write in the stuff that can’t be found anywhere else and without which those bits and pieces would be just a bunch of crude boilerplate that doesn’t fit well into any specific situation at all, the passion and energy necessary to do the work to bring all this stuff together, the courage to stick to one’s vision even as one’s adversary is insisting you’re wrong, the delight without which the strength to do all of these difficult things would be impossible to muster, the generosity of spirit that can identify a client’s problems as your own, and a million other things.

So don’t you dare suggest that taking some language that is useful for doing the job that needs to be done from another lawyer is evidence lawyering is like putting together tinker toys.

Words and Ideas as Common Property: Lewis Hyde, Stanley Fish and lawyers as “plagiarists”

In yesterday’s New York Times, Robert Darnton reviewed Lewis Hyde’s newly published Common as Air: Revolution, Art, and Ownership, describing it as “an eloquent and erudite plea for protecting our cultural patrimony from appropriation by commercial interests.” As Darnton explains, “Hyde invokes the [founding fathers] in order to warn us against a new enclosure movement, one that would fence off large sectors of the public domain — in science, the arts, literature, and the entire world of knowledge — in order to exploit monopolies.” Acknowledging that Hyde’s historical approach might seem a “dubious” way of “defending the cultural commons” and that in other hands it could amount to nothing more than picking and choosing among “a stockpile of quotable chunks of wisdom,” Darnton finds the book compelling:

[Hyde] does not merely cull the works of the founding fathers for quotations. He pitches his argument at a level where historians and political philosophers have contributed most to our understanding of intellectual history. Instead of treating the ideas of the founders as self-contained units of meaning, he explores their interconnections and shows how they shared a common conceptual frame. Not that he pretends to have uncovered anything unknown to the authorities he cites, notably the historian J. G. A. Pocock, whose studies of civic republicanism reveal how early modern philosophers drew on a current of thought about the nature of citizenship that goes back to ancient Greece and Rome. Hyde builds his argument by telling stories, and he tells them well. His book brims with vignettes, which may be familiar but complement one other in ways that produce original insights.

It is one of the genuine highlights of my professional career that Hyde draws on an article I’ve written. Hyde’s scope is wide, and he explores in depth the practices of many different “communities” — including, among others, the world of scientific research and the programmers that collectively created the World Wide Web — to show that treating knowledge and invention as a commons is both widespread and productive. One such community is the legal profession, which might seem odd in that the widely held understanding that your intellectual product is as much your property as is your house is such a legalistic conception:

Many . . . communities of practice have common holdings made durable and lively through normative rather than legal stints.

One of these may be found, oddly enough, in the legal community itself, where, as in some scientific circles, collective tasks get done and “collective beings” come to life through the agreed-upon non-ownership of creative labors. The fact is that in legal circles when judges issue opinions they often “plagiarize” from the briefs presented by contending parties. To take but one example, in 1937 Supreme Court Justice Benjamin Cardozo lifted, without attribution, verbatim sections of the Roosevelt administration’s brief in his decision upholding the Social Security system. Of course, “plagiarism” is the wrong term here, for legal writing does not come from the kind of author to whom credit is due. Legal writing is mostly collaborative, for one thing, produced by writing communities. In addition, legal opinions are public documents, belonging to no one because they belong to all of us. Nobody has ever successfully claimed copyright infringement for the unauthorized use of someone else’s legal argument. In fact, legal writers want to have their work appropriated. Peter Friedman, a lawyer whose analysis I’m drawing on here, has written: “I knew I had written the best brief I possibly could on a motion when the court’s opinion announcing its decision was directly cut-and-pasted from my brief.”

If lawyers were the kind of authors who claimed a property in their work, they would potentially deprive both the work and themselves of their public roles. As with eighteenth-century pamphleteers, or with the creators of the World Wide Web, self-erasure attends a lawyer’s entry into the public sphere, not self-assertion. The law is collective; it belongs to all citizens, and consequently we ask that its practitioners present themselves as public persons with copyduties rather than copyrights. In this context, to sample someone else’s brief is a favor, not a theft; it helps a lawyer be a lawyer. Common ownership makes that species of public life possible. (Common as Air at 248-249.)

Interestingly enough, this passage has some bearing on an exchange I had recently with the incredibly accomplished lawyer and blogger Scott Greenfield. Greenfield wrote a blog post criticizing a piece Stanley Fish wrote in the New York Times that argued that plagiarism as an offense is not a moral wrong, but, rather, the product of particular rules against the use in particular contexts of others’ words and ideas without attribution. [Fish wrote a second piece on the topic, responding to critics of the first piece, here.] The necessary corollary of Fish’s point is that in other contexts the use of others’ words and ideas without attribution is perfectly acceptable. Greenfield’s disagreement with Fish focused on Fish’s assertion that “lawyers and judges in fact do [appropriate words and ideas without attribution] all the time without the benefit or hindrance of any metaphysical rap.” Greenfield wrote, “No, Stanley, I will not turn the other cheek, no matter how much I love the platitude about reinventing the wheel.”

I tried to explain in the comments to Greenfield’s post where I thought he had missed Fish’s point (which is very much related to Hyde’s). I will try to do so more clearly here inasmuch as he and I seemed to speak past one another in that particular exchange.

In law school, plagiarism is the use of the words or ideas of others without attribution. It is a grave offense that can lead to harsh discipline and even might threaten the student’s ability to someday be certified to practice law. Strict compliance with the need to attribute words and ideas drawn from others is deemed necessary because the point of the academic process is to teach the students to put together and convey ideas clearly and to assess their capacity to do so. Thus, using words or ideas of others without attribution is tantamount to fraud — the reader of those words and the ideas they convey is misled into believing they are the product of the student’s intellectual processes alone, and the reader conducts an activity central to the academic process — grading those words — in reliance on that belief. If I were to read Scott Greenfield’s words under the mistaken belief they were the words of a student whose paper I was grading, I would give him a much better grade than he would earn if I knew he were just quoting Greenfield.

In legal practice, however, it is only the quality of the words that matter. Whether contract language originated with the lawyer who drafted the contract or a paragraph in a brief explaining a line of authority relevant to the brief’s argument was cut-and-pasted from a brief the lawyer who submitted the brief found online doesn’t matter. What matters is the effect of the words themselves. And, in fact, lawyers almost always begin drafting contracts by cannibalizing other contracts and forms. Yet they never cite to or otherwise acknowledge those sources. There is no reason for them to do so. And, as the passage from Hyde above makes clear, judges cut-and-paste from lawyers’ briefs. In fact, the entire arena of legal writing in practice is rife with unacknowledged borrowing.

And of course it’s no sin. That’s the point. Which Greenfield acknowledges without realizing it’s the point when he writes that a judge who appropriates the words from a lawyer’s brief is accepting a “gift,” not engaging in plagiarism:

As for judges taking language out of my brief, that’s not plagiarizing, but the purpose of a legal brief, to provide the court with the language to use in his decision. That’s exactly what I’ve written it for, as my “gift” to the judge to use in deciding the case. Again, entirely different from plagiarizing.

But that precisely is Fish’s point. Appropriation without attribution isn’t the moral equivalent of the theft of private property. It’s wrong in some contexts and not in others. So in some contexts it is defined as plagiarism and in others to call it “plagiarism” is to misspeak.

Greenfield’s other retort to Fish also reflects his misunderstanding of the point. Greenfield states that lawyers do provide attribution to the words and ideas for others. That’s what the whole obsession with citation is about:

[W]e do not lift language without attribution. Indeed, that’s what all those silly case names and the “358 U.S. 973″ stuff is all about. It’s the lawyers’ way of attributing, Stanley. It’s called a citation, and it’s our regime. What you do not see at the end of a court decision is the copyright and command that it not be used without permission. Use of court decisions is not merely anticipated, but required in most circumstances. That’s the peculiar way law works.

But the attribution provided by citation in legal briefs and opinions does not serve the same purpose as does attribution to a student’s sources. Lawyer’s don’t provide citations to the authorities they quote and rely on because their failure to do so would result in prosecution for a moral offense. Instead, lawyers provide citations because the citations signal the identity of sources for words, actions, and ideas that have persuasive weight because of who those sources are.

In other words, if I lifted language verbatim from a court decision without quotation marks or citation in a brief I wrote to a court I would suffer no harm. You might object that this possibility is a mere hypothetical, but you would be wrong. If an argument — and even precise words — come from a court that has no controlling weight in the court to whom I am submitting the brief and I have no reason to believe the identity of the court would lend any genuine persuasive weight to the argument, I would be remiss if I did provide the citation. The citation itself would raise a question in the mind of the judge to whom I was submitting the brief — why should I care about this court’s words, ideas, or actions? — that would distract from the persuasive effect of the argument itself.

And, indeed, as a general matter as a lawyer there is little reason to cite to law review articles unless there is reason to believe the author of the article is someone who carries genuine persuasive weight. A judge’s reaction otherwise is likely to be along the lines of this: “A law review article can pretty much assert anything that can win the approval of a student editor. Why should I assume it has any authority merely because it’s published in a law review?”

Would the article’s author have any claim against a lawyer who lifted words or ideas from his article and used them in a brief without attribution? I cannot believe so, nor am I aware of any standard or rule the lawyer would be violating.

And in contract and instrument drafting, of course, lawyers don’t even provide citation for the sources of their words.

I think it is important in understanding what Fish was writing about to understand these different functions of citation. On the one hand, there’s citation to validate the relationship between the words and ideas and the author’s identity. On the other, there’s citation to signal that particular words and ideas come from a source that must be reckoned with by the reader. They are two entirely different functions, and in legal practice the latter is the one that matters. The former does not. And so you have never seen a lawyer suffer any adverse consequences for plagiarizing.

But if any of my legal writing students are reading this, be on guard! Students must provide attribution to the words and ideas they appropriate from others.

Blanch v. Koons, transformative appropriation art, and Fairey v. AP

It’s well worth revisiting the decision by the United States Court of Appeals for the 2d Circuit (the Circuit in which the court hearing Shepard Fairey’s lawsuit against AP and Manny Garcia is pending) in Blanch v. Koons, 467 F.3d 244 (2006). Andrea Blanch, “an accomplished professional fashion and portrait photographer,” unsuccessfully sued Jeff Koons for copyright infringement of a photograph she had shot entitled “‘Silk Sandals by Gucci’ (‘Silk Sandals’), [which] depicts a woman’s lower legs and feet, adorned with bronze nail polish and glittery Gucci sandals, resting on a man’s lap in what appears to be a first-class airplane cabin. The legs and feet are shot at close range and dominate the photograph. Allure published ‘Silk Sandals’as part of a six-page feature on metallic cosmetics entitled ‘Gilt Trip.’” The court explained how Koons appropriated and used ‘Silk Sandals’ as follows:

Koons scanned the image of “Silk Sandals” into his computer and incorporated a version of the scanned image into [his painting entitled] “Niagara.” He included in the painting [pictured at left] only the legs and feet from the photograph, discarding the background of the airplane cabin and the man’s lap on which the legs rest. Koons inverted the orientation of the legs so that they dangle vertically downward above the other elements of “Niagara” rather than slant upward at a 45-degree angle as they appear in the photograph. He added a heel to one of the feet and modified the photograph’s coloring. The legs from “Silk Sandals” are second from the left among the four pairs of legs that form the focal images of “Niagara.” Koons did not seek permission from Blanch or anyone else before using the image

Koons was paid $126,877 for “Niagra.” Allure had paid Blanch $750 for “Silk Sandals.” In addressing whether Koons’ appropriation of “Silk Sandals” was fair use or a copyright infringement, the court highlighted the fact that answering this question requires balancing the conflicting interests in protecting the “intellectual property” rights of creators and protecting the freedom of expression, including referencing the works of others in new works of creation:

Copyright law thus must address the inevitable tension between the property rights it establishes in creative works, which must be protected up to a point, and the ability of authors, artists, and the rest of us to express them — or ourselves by reference to the works of others, which must be protected up to a point. The fair-use doctrine mediates between the two sets of interests, determining where each set of interests ceases to control.

At the heart of the fair use analysis is the nature of the allegedly infringing work. As the 2d Circuit notes, it considers with respect to this factor whether the work is “transformative” — that is, whether it adds something new to the original work so that it stands on its own as an original work of creation. The court thus quoted the Supreme Court’s decision in Campbell v. Acuff Rose Music, 510 U.S. 569 (1994):

The central purpose of this investigation is to see, in Justice Story’s words, whether the new work merely “supersedes the objects” of the original creation, or instead adds something new, with a further purpose or different character, altering the first with new expression, meaning, or message …, in other words, whether and to what extent the new work is “transformative.” Although such transformative use is not absolutely necessary for a finding of fair use, the goal of copyright, to promote science and the arts, is generally furthered by the creation of transformative works. Such transformative works thus lie at the heart of the fair use doctrine’s guarantee of breathing space …. Campbell, 510 U.S. at 579, 114 S.Ct. 1164(citations omitted).

The court’s conclusion that “Niagra” is genuinely transformative in its use of “Silk Stockings” is worth quoting almost in its entirety (citations omitted) because it is the very heart of the decision to find in favor of Koons:

Koons asserts — and Blanch does not deny — that his purposes in using Blanch’s image are sharply different from Blanch’s goals in creating it. Compare Koons Aff. at ¶ 4 (“I want the viewer to think about his/her personal experience with these objects, products, and images and at the same time gain new insight into how these affect our lives.”) with Blanch Dep. at 112-113 (“I wanted to show some sort of erotic sense[;] … to get … more of a sexuality to the photographs.”). The sharply different objectives that Koons had in using, and Blanch had in creating, “Silk Sandals” confirms the transformative nature of the use. 

Koons is, by his own undisputed description, using Blanch’s image as fodder for his commentary on the social and aesthetic consequences of mass media. His stated objective is thus not to repackage Blanch’s “Silk Sandals,” but to employ it “`in the creation of new information, new aesthetics, new insights and understandings.’” When, as here, the copyrighted work is used as “raw material,” in the furtherance of distinct creative or communicative objectives, the use is transformative. 

The test for whether “Niagara’s” use of “Silk Sandals” is “transformative,” then, is whether it “merely supersedes the objects of the original creation, or instead adds something new, with a further purpose or different character, altering the first with new expression, meaning, or message.”The test almost perfectly describes Koons’s adaptation of “Silk Sandals”: the use of a fashion photograph created for publication in a glossy American “lifestyles” magazine — with changes of its colors, the background against which it is portrayed, the medium, the size of the objects pictured, the objects details and, crucially, their entirely different purpose and meaning — as part of a massive painting commissioned for exhibition in a German art-gallery space. We therefore conclude that the use in question was transformative.

The court also noted that in Campbell the Supreme Court had rejected the notion that a”the commercial nature of [a] use could by itself be a dispositive consideration. The Campbell opinion observes that ‘nearly all of the illustrative uses listed in the preamble paragraph of § 107 [setting forth the fair use test], including news reporting, comment, criticism, teaching, scholarship, and research … “are generally conducted for profit.”‘” Thus, the “‘more transformative the new work, the less will be the significance of other factors, like commercialism, that may weigh against a finding of fair use.’” (Quoting NXIVM Corp. v. Ross Inst., 364 F.3d 471 (2d Cir.2004)). Moreover, since “Niagra” is “‘substantially transformative, the significance of other factors, [including] commercialism, are of [less significance],’ [w]e therefore ‘discount[] the secondary commercial nature of the use.’” (citations omitted.)

I by no means would suggest that Blanch is so obviously on point in all respects that it requires the court hearing the Fairey v. AP case to find in favor of Fairey. But it certainly is quite meaningful in that respect. If only because of the tremendous resonance the Obama Hope poster had in the course of the 2008 presidential, a resonance that would have been inconceivable had the poster substituted Garcia’s photo for Fairey’s reworking of that source material, it seems at the very least quite arguable that Fairey’s reworking of the photo meets the 2d Circuit’s test of a transformative work — one that “adds something new, with a further purpose or different character, altering the first with new expression, meaning, or message.”

Blanch also makes clear that it is of no moment that, Dan Heller’s assertions notwithstanding, Fairey’s work (1) was intended to convey a message, (2) was intended to “make a buck.”

It also makes plain that Heller is just plain misunderstanding the law when he states that “you cannot misappropriate someone’s likeness or their property without their consent.” (Emphasis in Heller’s original.) Koons neither sought nor received Blanch’s consent to use her photograph. Koons plainly made more than a buck in the transaction. And the fact that Koons’ message might have been a commentary on the world of “mass communication” does not seem any more worthy of fair use analysis even if we do assume, as does Heller, that Fairey’s poster was “merely” a piece of political advocacy. Finally, there is no applicable “right of publicity” that Fairey violated in appropriating Obama’s image (nor does the Associated Press or its photographer, Manny Garcia, have any right to assert any right of publicity Obama hypothetically could enjoy on his behalf).

ADDENDUM: J O’Shea on Shepard Fairey and the Art of Appropriation.

Andy Warhol was sued, but the cases were never decided.

After posting Campbell Soup’s letter to Andy Warhol expressing admiration for his Campbell Soup paintings 2 weeks ago, I’ve been asked by several people whether Warhol was ever sued for his appropriations of copyrighted photographs. He was indeed, though all of the cases settled out of court with Warhol “paying” by giving the plaintiffs pieces he had created. They therefore provide no guidance how courts would rule on those claims. Here’s the account from Patricia Search’s article, Electronic Art and the Law: Intellectual Property Rights in Cyberspace, Leonardo, Vol. 32, No. 3, 191, 193 (June 1999):

“Andy Warhol received legal complaints from photogra-phers Charles Moore, Fred Ward, and PatriciaCaulfield. Warhol used three of Charles Moore’s photographs of the Birmingham race riots in a 1964 painting called Race Riot. He also used a Life magazine cover photo of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, taken by Fred Ward after President Kennedy’s assassination, in several prints and paintings. Patricia Caulfield sued Warhol when she discovered that he had used one of her photographs in his1964 series of paintings and prints called Flowers.

“All of these cases were settled out of court. The photographers and their agents or attorneys received works of art from . . . Warhol . . . . Caulfield received a promise of royalties on future uses of her image by Warhol. Unfortunately, because these cases were settled out of court,no legal precedents were set concerning artistic appropriation of copyrighted material.”

California Gurls quotes California Girls. Can you imagine the nerve?

It’s sad when artists mistake the nature of their creations, when they somehow think they exist apart from culture as lone innovators. It’s especially pathetic when they believe their work is something like the real property they buy with whatever they’re lucky enough to earn from those works, something they can fence off from the rest of the world and keep trespassers off of. Techdirt points out an exceedingly outrageous instance of this:

[T]he Beach Boys are threatening to sue Katy Perry and/or her label if they’re not given songwriting credits for her song California Gurls. The Beach Boys, of course, did have a famous song back in 1965, called California Girls, with the classic line “I wish they all could be California Girls…” In the Katy Perry song, which is very different than the Beach Boys song, at the very, very, very end, Snoop Dogg says “I really wish you all could be California girls,” so the quote isn’t even a direct one.

I share techdirt’s hope that Katy Perry and her label stick to their guns. It’s tough to imagine a more obvious non-infringing use. Quite plainly, Perry was paying homage to the Beach Boys. Could you imagine requiring permission every time an artist riffs on an earlier work of art? We’d have no culture. Mike Love says, “I think [Perry's song] brings the Beach Boys’ 1965 classic to mind, that’s for sure.” You think? Would that mean the producers of the Dukes of Hazzard have their own claim?

Artists learn to cobble together successful careers.

QuestionCopyright.org describes an emerging new paradigm for artists in The Cobbler: A New Career Model for Artists and Entertainers:

“Filmmakers, musicians, and writers now have the opportunity to work in a more stable, less risky way — with an economic model like a corner shoe cobbler, with a skill and a loyal clientele. While it may not have the glamour of red carpets and stadium shows, it can be a life in which one’s vocation is sustainable, at a level that pays a living wage and allows one to be one’s own boss. One trades a small chance of making a lot of money quickly for a greatly improved chance of making some money steadily. For many artists, that’s a good trade-off.”

In short, artists are using the new means of production and distribution to control the creation, marketing, and sale of their work. It’s the inevitable outcome of what I described last January at Critical Mass regarding the future of books — the loss by the publishing, recording, and entertainment industries of control over the means of production and distribution of their products. As I wrote then, “[t]he entire publishing industry as we’ve known it is a walking corpse. You can almost imagine it as a zombie — composed of parts of Sarah Palin, Oprah, Dan Brown, and Tiger Woods — lumbering down Manhattan’s avenues.”

This new paradigm is no hypothetical. My sister, Amy Friedman, has written over 1000 stories over the past 20 years for Universal Press Syndicate (UPS) under the title Tell Me a Story. Since UPS was doing nothing to further develop the content, Amy managed to persuade them to sign back over to her the copyright for a handful of the stories. She, herself, put together musicians, actors, and recording engineers to produce three CD compilations of the stories. The first is 14th on Amazon’s list of audio books today. The third won a 2010 Audie Award, the equivalent of an Oscar in the world of audio books and spoken word entertainment. The second is pretty great too.

Amy is not alone. Matthew Rose is a dear friend, an artist who lives in Paris, and the inspiration that, through the resources of the online world has produced A Book About Death, a phenomenal exhibition that is ever evolving and ever-appearing in new incarnations in the physical world,

I could go on among just my acquaintances. The long and the short of it is this: don’t wait for the publisher, the recording company, the agent, the gallery, the production company.

Old School Mashup — Tape-beatles: “The Grand Delusion, Part 3″

Making creations property does not promote creation: fashion this time

It’s difficult in this era in which “property” is considered the source of liberty for people to get their heads around the idea that treating the products of creativity as part of a “cultural commons” is in fact more conducive to creativity and innovation than is strict copyright protection. Here’s some strong evidence of exactly that:

There is no copyright protection afforded to fashion designs. As a result copying is a matter of course in fashion design. You don’t exactly see a dearth of creativity and innovation in fashion design, do you?  In the video below, Johanna Blakely expands on this point. Of course, fashion designers are seeking federal legislation extending copyright protection to their designs. I hate it when ideology (here, that without the worship of “property” our way of life is doomed) trumps reality.