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?

Campbell Soup’s response to Andy Warhol’s appropriation

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.

Property is not always the foundation of liberty: fashion and copyright.

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?  Here, Johanna Blakely expands on this point:

And yet, 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.

Stealing what you love

John Pareles wrote, in “Plagiarism in Dylan, or a Cultural Collage?,”that “[i]deas aren’t meant to be carved in stone and left inviolate; they’re meant to stimulate the next idea and the next.” Accordingly, in words apropos of a point I’ve made over and over and over on this blog, he explains:

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

Another masterful artist, David Foster Wallace, wrote, “No one who is invested in any kind of art . . . can read [Lewis Hyde's book] The Gift and remain unchanged.” It is Hyde’s thesis not merely that all art builds on earlier art, but that it is precisely the artist’s recognition that his creations are gifts that sustains his creativity. In other words, the capacity to create is a gift given to the artist and is given only if the artist understands his own creations as gifts themselves that other artists can use themselves in their acts of creation:

It is the assumption of this book that a work of art is a gift, not a commodity. Or, to state the modern case with more precision, that works of art exist simultaneously in two “economics,” a market economy and a gift economy. Only one of these is essential, however: a work of art can survive without the market, but where there is no gift there is no art.

So it should be no surprise that Andreas Hykade entitled this brilliant video “Love & Theft“:

Art builds on art, be it Shepard Fairey’s Obama Hope poster or the re-tellings of myths and legends.

I have made clear, at length, my view that Shepard Fairey’s Obama Hope poster is a legitimate, non-infringing fair use of the photo Fairey appropriated as its source material. But I think Fairey himself expresses well in this interview from The Knowledge the basis of that belief, that the very nature of a lot of art (and, I might argue, all art) is to build on and refer to pieces of the culture in which we live and that without the freedom to appropriate pieces of that culture in ways that don’t merely exploit the value the creators of those pieces themselves have built we will diminish our culture. Fairey explains:

“I do think that copyrights and intellectual property are important—it’s important to be able to keep people from making verbatim copies of a particular creation that could somehow hurt the creator. If I spend time conceiving and making a piece of art and somebody else sees that it has market value and replicates it in order to steal part of my market, then that’s not cool. But the way I make art—the way a lot of people make art—is as an extension of language and communication, where references are incredibly important. It’s about making a work that is inspired by something preexisting but changes it to have a new value and meaning that doesn’t in any way take away from the original—and, in fact, might provide the original with a second life or a new audience.”

He goes on to explain, in terms that are very personal to me, the implications of an alternative view, often referred to as a position in favor of “strong” copyright protection”:

“The problem with copyright enforcement is that when the parameters aren’t incredibly well defined, it means big corporations, who have deeper pockets and better lawyers, can bully people. I don’t want to start making enemies in the corporate world, but there are plenty of cases. For example, there is a tradition of certain fairy tales being reinterpreted, and now, all of a sudden, a big corporation that has a mouse on its logo decides it’s going to copyright these fairy tales, which ends the cycle of these things being reinterpreted. What happens with these big entertainment companies is that they start to get a monopoly on the creation of culture. But I think that the more people participate in the creation of culture, the richer the culture becomes. In the case of the Obama poster, I was just exercising my First Amendment rights—and my free speech is exercised visually. People who want to talk or write in order to share an opinion about Obama can do that, but when I want to say what I think about him, I need to make a portrait. And if I can’t make a picture based on a reference because all references are copyrighted, then my only options are to pay a licensing fee—and possibly be turned down because the person licensing the image doesn’t agree with my political viewpoint—or to try to get a personal sitting with Barack Obama to make a portrait of him, which presents its own obstacles. So I don’t think all this is good for free speech.”

This is a personal matter because my sister, Amy Friedman, writer and teacher extordinaire, has for twenty years written on a weekly basis versions of fairy tales, folk tales, and legends from around the world and throughout history, an enormous corpus of work that is syndicated by Universal Press Syndicates under the name Tell me a Story (entire archive available). Needless to say, copyright concerns throughout this decades long endeavor, only one of many in which she engages, have been foremost in her mind, but there has never been any doubt either that her stories, while based on pre-existing creations from as many cultures and as many times as are virtually conceivable, are legitimate art in their own right and, therefore, enjoy their own copyright protection.

Amy’s story is important in another way. Not only would the Disney’s of the world co-opt the subject matter she makes her own, but she also is an artist in the truest sense. She is not a best-selling author. No one I’ve ever known works harder, and working at making a living as a writer, as she always has, is as difficult a task as one would wish upon a sister. She doesn’t depend on her copyrights to make her living — she depends on delivering a product that consumers want, whether they be students or parents who want wonderful audio stories for their kids. People like Mark Halperin, rich best-selling author and conservative pundit, , who bitch about copyright protection don’t know what they’re talking about. They live in an age in which digital information can be remixed and distributed worldwide by anyone with a laptop and an internet connection, an age in which their views of authorship and artistic production are, in a word, outmoded. The real artists are people like Amy, who eke out a living (one whose comfort level she expresses no complaints about).

Good lawyering means remixing

Gerry Spence on one of the secrets of his enormous success:

One artist’s take on issues related to Shepard Fairey

When does appropriation serve creativity? Quite often, in fact.

A commenter to yesterday’s post on Shepard Fairey’s Obama poster has suggested that I don’t believe in copyright because I believe that, even though Fairey created his image by initially tracing a copyrighted photo, the changes he made to the image and its re-contextualization within the campaign poster might well be sufficiently transformative to make his work non-infringing fair use.  In fact, I’d go so far as to say I genuinely believe Fairey’s image is a creative work in its own right even though it derives from another work.

In that regard, it’s worth noting that Henry McKervey and Declan Long, in “Makers and Takers: Art and the Appropriation of Ideas, write::

[I]t is the expression of an idea which is subject to legal protection. While perhaps this has meant that an artist such as Gillian Wearing can be faced with difficulties over the unattributed re-application of her work, the law also could be said to give artists a relative amount of freedom to take and re-use material in any number of subtly different ways without the spectre of plagiarism remaining ever-present. In a work such as Douglas Gordon’s 24 Hour Psycho, for instance, there is in one sense very little of the artist’s ‘own’ work (Hitchcock’s classic thriller being merely re-played at a radically slowed-down pace) yet Gordon’s intervention makes for a powerful, transformative artistic statement. The question of “knowing originality when you see it” is almost beside the point in cases such as this: artists’ strategies of appropriation prompt questions of originality to become thematically intriguing on, one level, while also being critically irrelevant and, on occasion, inappropriate, on another.

Believing that genuinely transformative appropriation is legitimate does not imply I do not believe in copyright.  It means, rather, that I believe that copyright should serve the only purpose it constitutionally is meant to serve: increased invention and creativity.

And did anyone notice that the John Williams composition played at the inauguration, “Air and Simple Gifts,” borrowed heavily from Aaron Copland’s Appalachian Spring, which itself appropriated a Shaker hymn?

This morning I didn’t think about the fact I wasn’t being original.

I didn’t realize when I wrote this morning’s post that Ann Bartow at Sivacracy.net had over a month ago quoted musician Jeffrey Lewis’s piece in the New York Times making essentially the same points:

Negativeland’s positivity

I’ve written before here about Girl Talk.  As I wrote then, Girl Talk’s music, which consists entirely of the weaving together of samples from other recording artists, is a direct challenge to a legal and business regime that  has treated as theft any sample of any recording without permission, regardless of the size of the sample and regardless of the appropriating work’s origniality.  

Long before Girl Talk, however, came Negativeland, doing the same thing and, unlike Girl Talk, articulating intelligently along with the music the theoretical justifications for its methods.  Here, as post-modern as it gets, is Negativeland’s “No Business”:

Negativeland’s art can lead to amusing ironies.  including its confrontation with U2 or, rather, as they found out later, when they actually ran into U2’s Dave Evans (a/k/a “The Edge”), U2’s record company, which had never actually consulted with the members of U2 before taking legal action that wiped Negativeland’s “U2,” a tape collage satire of U2’s “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For,” off the face of the earth.

One may not agree with Negativeland’s stance (and they can go on about it), but it is a thoughtful and undeniably compelling one, as this excerpt one of their essays should begin to make clear:

We think it’s about time that the obvious esthetic validity of appropriation begins to be raised in opposition to the assumed preeminence of copyright laws prohibiting the free reuse of cultural material. Has it occurred to anyone that the private ownership of mass culture is a bit of a contradiction in terms?

. . . We are now all immersed in an ever-growing media environment — an environment just as real and just as affecting as the natural one from which it somehow sprang. Today we are surrounded by canned ideas, images, music, and text. . . .  Most of our opinions are no longer born out of our own experience. They are received opinions. Large increments of our daily sensory input are not focused on the physical reality around us, but on the media that saturates it. As artists, we find this new electrified environment irresistibly worthy of comment, criticism, and manipulation.

The act of appropriating from this media assault represents a kind of liberation from our status as helpless sponges . . . . Appropriation sees media, itself, as a telling source and subject, to be captured, rearranged, even manipulated, and injected back into the barrage by those who are subjected to it. Appropriators claim the right to create with mirrors.

Our corporate culture, on the other hand, is determined to reach the end of this century while maintaining its economically dependent view that there is something wrong with all this. . . .

Our cultural evolution is no longer allowed to unfold in the way that pre-copyright culture always did. True folk music, for example, is no longer possible. The original folk process of incorporating previous melodies and lyrics into constantly evolving songs is impossible when melodies and lyrics are privately owned. We now exist in a society so choked and inhibited by cultural property and copyright protections that the very idea of mass culture is now primarily propelled by economic gain and the rewards of ownership. . . .

. . . That being the case, there are two types of appropriation taking place today: legal and illegal. So, you may ask, if this type of work must be done, why can’t everyone just follow the rules and do it the legal way? Negativland remains on the shady side of existing law because to follow it would put us out of business. Here is a personal example of how copyright law actually serves to prevent a wholly appropriate creative process which inevitably emerged out of our reproducing technologies.

In order to appropriate or sample even a few seconds of almost anything out there, you are supposed to do two things: get permission and pay clearance fees. The permission aspect becomes an unavoidable roadblock to anyone who may intend to use the material in a context unflattering to the performer or work involved. This may happen to be exactly what we want to do. Dead end. Imagine how much critical satire would get made if you were required to get prior permission from the subject of your satire? The payment aspect is an even greater obstacle to use. Negativland is a small group of people dedicated to maintaining our critical stance by staying out of the corporate mainstream. We create and manufacture our own work, on our own label, on our own meager incomes and borrowed money. Our work is typically packed with found elements, brief fragments recorded from all media. This goes way beyond one or two, or ten or twenty elements. We can use a hundred different elements on a single record. Each of these audio fragments has a different owner and each of these owners must be located. This is usually impossible because the fragmentary nature of our long-ago random capture from radio or TV does not include the owner’s name and address. If findable, each one of these owners, assuming they each agree with our usage, must be paid a fee which can range from hundreds to thousands of dollars each. Clearance fees are set, of course, for the lucrative inter-corporate trade. Even if we were somehow able to afford that, there are the endless frustrations involved in just trying to get lethargic and unmotivated bureaucracies to get back to you. Thus, both our budget and our release schedule would be completely out of our own hands. Releases can be delayed literally for years. As tiny independents, depending on only one release at a time, we can’t proceed under those conditions. In effect, any attempt to be legal would shut us down.

So OK, we’re just small potato heads, working in a way that wasn’t foreseen by the law, and it’s just too problematical, so why not just work some other way? We are working this way because it’s just plain interesting, and emulating the various well-worn status quos isn’t. How many artistic perogatives should we be willing to give up in order to maintain our owner-regulated culture? The directions art wants to take may sometimes be dangerous, the risk of democracy, but they certainly should not be dictated by what business wants to allow. Look it up in the dictionary — art is not defined as a business! Is it a healthy state of affairs when business attorneys get to lock in the boundaries of experimentation for artists, or is this a recipe for cultural stagnation?

Ruling Imagination: Law and Creativity

Collaborative Writing and Creativity

Legal writing is collaborative and built on appropriations from earlier legal writing. Does that mean it is not original? Take for example a judicial opinion written by a high appellate court. The judicial opinion is not 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 the lawyers’ written and spoken legal arguments to the court, the opinions rendered by the lower courts (which themselves appropriated the legal arguments made by lawyers to them), 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 19th Century propounded the notion of the judge as quintessentially Romantic author-creator.

Increasingly it is being recognized that all writing is to some degree collaborative

In short, legal writing is quintessentially collaborative and full of unattributed appropriations of texts, ideas, and forms. My work in this blog will be in part, I think, two-fold: (1) to convince you that such writing is, despite its mongrel nature, fully original, and (2) to convince you that what you consider the most original writing is, in fact, far more collaborative and appropriative than you have previously considered.

In short, I hope to examine what creativity really is and to convince you it is not typically, if ever, the inspired product of an isolated genius.