Do you think something original can be made entirely from copyrighted pieces? Christian Marclay: The Clock

The principle of collage is the central principle of all art.

No one who has spent more than a few days reading this blog in its 3+ years can have missed the fact that I have been strongly persuaded that the common notion of authorship — that true artists are solitary originating geniuses — is a myth. Kenneth Smith, in “It’s Not Plagiarism. In the Digital Age, It’s ‘Repurposing,’” adresses the same issues and covers much of the same ground, but he brings up a a few very interesting things that I had not previously encountered. The first is the prominent literary critic Marjorie Perloff’s use of the term “unoriginal genius” to describe someone with skill at making his or her way through the contemporary flood of “information.”  A “genius” in this sense is not someone who — as convention has it — comes up with a creation that no one has ever dreamt of before, but, rather, someone with an extraordinary ability to manage available information, parse it, organize it, and distribute it. Perloff believes that in the end it is this type of genius, not the mythical conventional sort, that distinguishes your writing from mine:

Her idea is that, because of changes brought on by technology and the Internet, our notion of the genius—a romantic, isolated figure—is outdated. An updated notion of genius would have to center around one’s mastery of information and its dissemination. Perloff has coined another term, “moving information,” to signify both the act of pushing language around as well as the act of being emotionally moved by that process. She posits that today’s writer resembles more a programmer than a tortured genius, brilliantly conceptualizing, constructing, executing, and maintaining a writing machine.

Perloff’s notion of unoriginal genius should not be seen merely as a theoretical conceit but rather as a realized writing practice, one that dates back to the early part of the 20th century, embodying an ethos in which the construction or conception of a text is as important as what the text says or does. Think, for example, of the collated, note-taking practice of Walter Benjamin’s Arcades Project or the mathematically driven constraint-based works by Oulipo, a group of writers and mathematicians. (hyperlinks added)

Even more interesting, however, is what Smith did. He’s taught a class at the University of Pennsylvania he calls “Uncreative Writing.”

In it, students are penalized for showing any shred of originality and creativity. Instead they are rewarded for plagiarism, identity theft, repurposing papers, patchwriting, sampling, plundering, and stealing. Not surprisingly, they thrive. Suddenly what they’ve surreptitiously become expert at is brought out into the open and explored in a safe environment, reframed in terms of responsibility instead of recklessness.

We retype documents and transcribe audio clips. We make small changes to Wikipedia pages (changing an “a” to “an” or inserting an extra space between words). We hold classes in chat rooms, and entire semesters are spent exclusively in Second Life. Each semester, for their final paper, I have them purchase a term paper from an online paper mill and sign their name to it, surely the most forbidden action in all of academia. Students then must get up and present the paper to the class as if they wrote it themselves, defending it from attacks by the other students. What paper did they choose? Is it possible to defend something you didn’t write? Something, perhaps, you don’t agree with? Convince us.

All this, of course, is technology-driven. When the students arrive in class, they are told that they must have their laptops open and connected. And so we have a glimpse into the future. And after seeing what the spectacular results of this are, how completely engaged and democratic the classroom is, I am more convinced that I can never go back to a traditional classroom pedagogy. I learn more from the students than they can ever learn from me. The role of the professor now is part party host, part traffic cop, full-time enabler.

The secret: the suppression of self-expression is impossible. Even when we do something as seemingly “uncreative” as retyping a few pages, we express ourselves in a variety of ways. The act of choosing and reframing tells us as much about ourselves as our story about our mother’s cancer operation. It’s just that we’ve never been taught to value such choices.

After a semester of my forcibly suppressing a student’s “creativity” by making her plagiarize and transcribe, she will tell me how disappointed she was because, in fact, what we had accomplished was not uncreative at all; by not being “creative,” she had produced the most creative body of work in her life. By taking an opposite approach to creativity—the most trite, overused, and ill-defined concept in a writer’s training—she had emerged renewed and rejuvenated, on fire and in love again with writing.

Smith has thus provided another instance of what I already know in a different context — there are more and less original legal writers even though legal writing is one vast collaborative writing enterprise consisting primarily of texts cobbled together from pieces of other legal texts.

Finally, Smith suggests that the insights he provides (which he would no more claim are original to him than I would claim them mine) have been largely resisted in one profoundly important world of writing: literature:

I’m sensing that literature—infinite in its potential of ranges and expressions—is in a rut, tending to hit the same note again and again, confining itself to the narrowest of spectrums, resulting in a practice that has fallen out of step and is unable to take part in arguably the most vital and exciting cultural discourses of our time. I find this to be a profoundly sad moment—and a great lost opportunity for literary creativity to revitalize itself in ways it hasn’t imagined.

Perhaps one reason writing is stuck might be the way creative writing is taught. In regard to the many sophisticated ideas concerning media, identity, and sampling developed over the past century, books about how to be a creative writer have relied on clichéd notions of what it means to be “creative.” These books are peppered with advice like: “A creative writer is an explorer, a groundbreaker. Creative writing allows you to chart your own course and boldly go where no one has gone before.” Or, ignoring giants like de Certeau, Cage, and Warhol, they suggest that “creative writing is liberation from the constraints of everyday life.”

As John Pareles wrote in “Plagiarism in Dylan, or a Cultural Collage?”, Bob Dylan is another one of those giants leading the way:

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.

Of course, literature has not completely ignored these artistic trends. The group of authors comprising Oulipo were exemplars of what Smith might call “writers as programmers,” and Donald Barthelme wrote:

The principle of collage is the central principle of all art in the Twentieth Century.

And, believe me: if you’ve never read Georges Perec or Barthelme, you’ve never read anything like what they’ve written. Or maybe you have.

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.

Plagiarizing about Plagiarism

You could write a column entitled “When it comes to songwriting, there’s a fine line between inspiration and plagiarism” any day of the week, and I believe I have, though I only stole the idea from the KLF (or Negativland or Bob Dylan, or Jim Jarmusch or Jonathan Lethem or David Shields or  David Markson or Shepard Fairey or . . . )

We build culture from culture, and let’s stop acting as if any one of us owns it.

David Shields, from Reality Hunger:

This book contains hundreds of quotations that go unacknowledged in the body of the text. I’m trying to regain a freedomthat writers from Montaigne to Burroughs took for granted and that we have lost. Your uncertainty about whose words you’ve just read is not a bug but a feature.

A major focus of Reality Hunger is appropriation and plagiarism and what these terms mean. I can hardly treat the topic deeply without engaging in it. That would be like writing a book about lying and not being permitted to lie in it. Or writing a book about destroying capitalism, but being told it can’t be published because it might harm the publishing industry.

Mr. Shields, of course, is not original. Just check out Jonathan Lethem’ s essay “The Ecstasy of Influence: A Plagiarism.”

Or my piece, wholly indebted to Lethem,  entitled “Appropriation.”

Or David Markson, in Vanishing Point (at page 12): “Nonlinear. Discontinuous. Collage-like. An assemblage. As is already more than self-evident.”

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.

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:

Aural Collage and the Law

Click on the picture below to see my PowerPoint presentation from last week’s COSE Arts Forum on Intellectual Property and the Arts.

Why is music the main battleground in the copyright wars?

Andrew Dubber is an established scholar working in Britain, an author, and an online music consultant writing a book “about the music industries and intellectual property in the digital age.” He’s also writing a blog as “a scrapbook of material for” the book. The book and the blog, Deleting Music, are “[s]pecifically . . . about the problems that arise when music is only considered in terms of its function as commerce, rather than as culture.”

Two days ago Dubber raised this question: why is his focus on music when the issues he is exploring “extend[] way beyond popular music into books, visual arts, academic works, medicine… and extend[] into the realms of international trade, global politics and genuine life and death issues”? He believes that the reason is that the music industry is uniquely threatened by the commercialization of culture:

There’s a genuine cultural crisis going on in the music industries. Master tapes are decaying in vaults. Original works – by artists you’ve heard of, not just obscure and irrelevant wannabes – are not being preserved. Archives and libraries are only reluctantly being supplied with copies of released material – and not reliably so.

In music, perhaps in more than any other field, culture is not merely being prevented from being remixed – it’s completely disappearing, preventing it from forming the basis of any future works or research. And it’s that, more than anything else, that I want to communicate through this book.

This is not a hypothetical problem, or merely an unfair distribution of power. Popular music culture is literally vanishing right now. Magnetically-charged metal oxide particles are falling from master tapes as we speak.

To me, that’s important, urgent – and worthy of its own book

Music has been the center-piece in the recent copyright wars. Dubber knows better than I the impact of the music industry’s practices on the culture, but I think there’s a very good legal explanation for the music industry’s centrality to today’s copyright disputes.

In both the plastic arts and in literature there is a long history of, well, “remixing” as a legitimate method of creation. There has been in music as well, but not in quite the concrete and specific way there can be in painting and literature. Collage is a long-established artistic genre, and in literature the wholesale copying and rearranging of existing work as a composition method goes back to the foundation of Western literature in Homer. In music, on the other hand, while composition has always been a matter of reworking existing formulas, we’ve been operating in recent times on a general assumption that lifting a single note from an earlier recording constitutes copyright infringement. For long enough this practice has been the norm in the music industry that most people I know simply assume it’s an indisputable fact that if you sample anything from a copyrighted work you must pay for the sample.

But that’s a very debatable proposition. So where did it come from?

Paying for every last sampled note from a copyrighted song only became standard industry practice beginning in 1991 practice after Judge Kevin Duffy in Grand Upright Music, Ltd v. Warner Bros. Records, Inc. , 780 F. Supp. 182 (S.D.N.Y. 1991), in a decision that did not even consider issues pertaining to fair use, enjoined the distribution of Biz Markie’s third album because one of its songs sampled three words and the accompaniment ostinato of Gilbert O’Sullivan’s cheesy hit “Alone Again, Naturally.” Duffy wasn’t satisfied with a mere injunction; he also referred the defendants to the U.S. Attorney’s office for criminal prosecution and began his opinion, like a preacher from the pulpit with these words:

“Thou shalt not steal” has been an admonition followed since the dawn of civilization Unfortunately, in the modern world of business this admonition is not always followed.

The U.S. Attorney’s office exercised its prosecutorial discretion and refused to seek an indictment against Biz Markie or his producers. One likes to think the prosecutors were more thoughtful about the copyright issues the case raised than was Judge Duffy.

But Biz Markie’s record company did not appeal the decision and, in fact, the decision marked the beginning of the music industry’s practice of requiring permission and payment for any sample. The companies that at the time constituted the industry had a strong interest in maintaining the regime Duffy’s decision put into place (a regime bolstered in 2004 by the decision in  Bridgeport Music, Inc. v. Dimension Films, 410 F.3d 792 (6th Cir. 2004), in which the court ruled that the defendant had committed copyright infringement by using in his own musical recording a two-second sample from an earlier copyrighted recording, lowering the pitch, and looping the sample to extend it to 16 beats). Deference to this legal regime meant that each company’s recordings were inviolate without payment. There was no economic reason to challenge the right of another recording company to require payment for any sample, no matter how small, no matter transformative its use was, and no matter how little impact it would have had on the market for the sampled piece. Moreover, artists who would have challenged the existing regime hardly had the financial wherewithal to take on the industry and the enormously successful artists who benefit from it. Thus, as John Pareles has written, “[a]lthough sampling was just a technological extension of the age-old process of learning through imitation, producers who use samples now pay up instead of trying to set precedents for fair use. “

Thus, the the RIAA states “generally speaking, the use of any part of a song requires a license.”

But, as I have emphasized again and on this blog, law is forced to change when the material conditions it governs change, and the ability to make and stitch together samples into compositions that can be disseminated world-wide — an ability that in 1991 was held almost exclusive by the recording industry — is now within reach of, literally, millions of people. It is inevitable that with this change the deference given to a trial court decision in 1991 would be challenged and that the arguments Judge Duffy entirely ignored in that decision would be examined anew.

But when, and in what circumstances? That is the interesting legal question right now. As I’ve previously written, Greg Gillis, who performs as Girl Talk, creates music that does nothing but violate the rule Judge Duffy declared inviolate since the dawn of civilization — Girl Talk’s work consists entirely of samples of recordings (virtually all copyrighted) stitched together into entirely new works.

Girl Talk’s work therefore has been described as a “lawsuit waiting to happen.” Gillis’s compositions include samples of recordings made by such artists as Metallica, who have demonstrated their willingness to sue people they believe have violated their copyrights, and the Guess Who, whose representative has stated ,  “We’ll chase [Girl Talk] down. What more can you do?” Yet no one, as far as I know, has yet sued Gillis. Why?

Well, I think 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.

We are very confused about the difference between similarity and illicit copying. Down Under and Kookaburra this time.

Another in a long line of this type of case: Larrikin Music is suing for compensation from royalties earned by Men at Work, alleging that the distinctive flute riff in “Down Under” was copied from the refrain of a 1934 children’s tune, “Kookaburra Sits in the Old Gum Tree.” As I suggest in the post liked to above (as well as many others on this blog), one has to ask these questions: Do our markets reward plagiarism, or are we confused in believing that an artist or author only has rights in his work if his work is unique? And if an artist does have rights to work that is derivative (as I believe most creative work is), don’t appropriators (collage artists, musicians who create “aural collages” by weaving together samples of copyrighted recordings) also have rights in their works?

Remix America, I salute you!

I am thrilled to have found Remix America¦America’s Digital Public Square. I’m no technical wiz. I’m always looking for easy ways to do technically difficult things. One thing I’ve searched for and asked friends about for a couple of years is a Friedman-friendly way of mixing and mashing up video and audio clips. I’ve wanted the contemporary equivalent (and therefore the multi-media) analog to the mix tapes I used to make on a cassette tape deck, and I need it to be as easy as making a mix tape on a cassette tape deck. My technically intelligent friends have had suggestions, but none have seemed accessible enough to me to be worth the investment of time and/or money they seemed they might require. But now I’m in techno-idiot heaven. As Remix America explains:

RemixAmerica.org is a multi-partisan, non-profit website that uses digital technology to give everyone the chance to own the words, the music, the images and sounds of America in digital form; to remix those expressions and ideas with their own; and to send the products of our community’s creativity out to the world… where others will come back to us and start it all over again…

And it works! I have a long way to go before I’ll be able to create a mashup that deserves to be posted, but, thanks to Remix America, that day is in sight. And I’m flattered beyond words that Erika Johansson, Producer and Program Coordinator for the site, paid me the compliment of writing to me that “we’ve got similar interests and aims.”

Despite the fact she runs circles around me when it comes to actually using the technology, Ms. Johansson is right that our interests and aims are similar. I approach  the innovation and creativity that is the subject of this blog as a lawyer, a role not typically considered innovative, creative or artistic. But it’s plain that being a lawyer requires fluency in the technical realities and practicalities one addresses as a lawyer.

I believe the law governing any particular set of circumstances expresses  society’s conceptions of what constitutes justice and fairness in those circumstances . In stark contrast, many lawyers and law professors believe law is the product of abstract notions of justice and fairness applied to the world as we find it.

If I am going to write persuasively about any given set of laws, my approach requires that I understand as well as I can the material reality those laws apply to. To understand contract law, I need to understand commercial practices and expectations. To understand market regulation, I need to understand how the financial markets run. To understand copyright law, I need to understand the technical details concerning the production and dissemination of information.

A necessary implication of my approach is that when the material conditions underlying any field change profoundly, the laws that govern that field should change profoundly. And in the last twenty years we’ve experienced a profound change in the material conditions that govern the way we produce, reproduce, and disseminate information. So the law governing the production, reproduction, and dissemination of information has to change — otherwise we’re stuck with the inevitable injustice that arises when you apply rules developed for one set of facts to an entirely different set of facts. There’s a revolution going on, but a lot of people don’t even recognize the revolution. And you can’t begin to understand the revolution unless you understand the the technical details that the revolution consists of.

So Remix America is a godsend to me. It gives me the means to create for myself (very crude) approximations of the mashups and remixes and collages I find so compelling and creative but that many consider theft. If I can understand and actually engage in an approximation of those creative acts, I can understand better and communicate better why those works are genuinely creative works, not merely ripoffs of original works that technology has unlocked.

I  salute and give a gracious thank you to Remix America and urge you to go there yourselves, see the works Remix America is making possible, and maybe start remixing and mashing up and creating your own original works.

Collage is art, not theft.

From Negativeland, whom I’ve previously mentioned as a precursor to Girl Talk:

[F]rom an artistic point of view, it is ponderously delusional to try to paint all these new forms of fragmentary sampling as economically motivated “theft”, “piracy”, or “bootlegging”. We reserve these terms for the unauthorized taking of whole works and reselling them for one’s own profit. Artists who routinely appropriate, on the other hand, are not attempting to profit from the marketability of their subjects at all. They are using elements, fragments, or pieces of someone else’s created artifact in the creation of a new one for artistic reasons. These elements may remain identifiable, or they may be transformed to varying degrees as they are incorporated into the new creation, where there may be many other fragments all in a new context, forming a new “whole”. This becomes a new “original”, neither reminiscent of nor competitive with any of the many “originals” it may draw from. This is also a brief description of collage techniques which have developed throughout this century, and which are universally celebrated as artistically valid, socially aware, and conceptually stimulating to all, it seems, except perhaps those who are “borrowed” from.

No one much cared about the centuries old tradition of appropriation in classical music as long as it could only be heard when 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 in their 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.

How can something new come entirely from old things?

I’ve written before (here and elsewhere) about Girl Talk, the name under which Greg Gillis records and performs his aural collages, made up of hundreds of samples of pop recordings re-worked by him through contemporary technology into what can only be considered new songs. Gillis continues to get attention as he makes his way on tour across the country, this week in Tuscon and Dallas. As I have previously pointed out, on its face, Gillis’s work seems to run afoul of legal authority which holds that the use for commercial benefit of any recorded sample, no matter how brief, constitues copyright infringement. As the Tuscon Weekly points out, Gillis is a little tired of hearing about this:

Gillis says he’s tired of the media characterizing his music as a “lawsuit waiting to happen,” yet he admits: “There’s definitely a component there of seeming like an outlaw, and I think that appeals to some people.” Girl Talk’s appeal, perhaps, speaks to the preoccupations of a new generation raised online–and he may be just the sort of celebrity it fosters.

And indeed, Gillis samples such litigation-happy groups as Metallica. Nevertheless, I suspect Metallica will not sue Gillis. Why? Because lawyers no you don’t sue people who have the strongest case on the question of law you are concerned about. In other words, Gillis poses the greatest risk to the legitimacy of the cases ruling that any sample, no matter how brief, is an infringement. Metallica, thus, would rather sue someone who sampled their music in some ham-fisted way that plainly did exploit the value Metallica has created. Metallica would win the lawsuit against such a defendant.

Gillis, however, really does seem to have transformed his raw materials into something entirely new. (You can hear for yourself by downloading his album here, for any price (even zero — itself an interesting move in legal terms).)

In fact, whether a work is “transformative” is, exactly, what is determinative in deciding whether its appropriation of copyrighted work is fair use or infringement. No one is going to listen to a Girl Talk “song” that samples a Metallica song as a substitute for the Metallica song. The Girl Talk song is something entirely new, even if it is made up of things entirely old. This focus on the “transformative nature” of an appropriating work comes from one of those rare law review articles that actually have an impact on the real world, although in this case it was by a judge, Pierre Leval.

Look for new combinations of old things

Lists of instructions for boosting creativity often suggest combining things you have not thought might be related. Obviously, this advice has application in art. It also, just as obviously, has application in law. As Shaun Tan, an accomplished Australian author and illustrator puts it:

Paul Klee once described an artist as being like a tree, drawing the minerals of experience from its roots – things known, observed, read, intuited and felt – and slowly processing them into new leaves. Similarly, the science writer Stephen Jay Gould notes that the greatest discoveries are to be found not in a freshly hewn cliff of shale, but in old museum collections, by rethinking the relationships between the objects that have already know about.

Four weeks into my Contracts class with a group of new law students, they still goggle when I point out that the “rules” they learned the first week can be used to explain the results the fourth week. The students think the fourth week’s materials have to be explained by the fourth week’s “rules.” They can be, but in law any good explanation for a given result is an acceptable one. The more good explanations you have, the more likely you are to the court you should win.

In Neil Duxbury‘s “Truth and Rhetoric,”(pdf) Ratio Juris. Vol. 12 No. 1 March 1999 (116–121), the author quotes from Dennis Patterson‘s book Law and Truth:

In choosing between different interpretations, we favor those that clash least with everything else we take to be true. In law, as in all matters, “[w]e convince someone of something by appealing to beliefs he already holds and by combining these to induce further beliefs in him, step by step, until the belief we wanted finally to inculcate in him is inculcated.” In law, we choose the proposition that best hangs together with everything else we take to be true. (Law and Truth, 172, citation omitted)

Of course, the ability to combine ideas in new ways requires having as large a storehouse of ideas as possible.

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:

We are all cultural magpies.

I’ve written before that many consider all creative endeavors collaborative. This collaborative quality obviously has significance in an environment in which, for example, the RIAA states that “generally speaking, the use of any part of a song requires a license.” (emphasis added). Although until now the courts have indeed found that a sample of any part of a song does require a license, a more nuanced approach is, I think, inevitable. That inevitability is not just because groups like Girl Talk and Negativeland are creating works that sound genuinely “original” by weaving together pieces of other recordings. It is also because there is a growing recognition that some of the people we consider our greatest originals are cultural magpies.  And pop music, the “property” the record industry protects most fiercely, is likely the most unoriginal original art there is. As the KLF put it in The Manual (How to have a Number One the Easy Way):

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.

You don’t believe them? Check out Kid Rock (and don’t get me wrong — I like the song, but no small part of my liking it is knowing the songs it’s derived from):

And just to make your head spin, read this.

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?

Barney Smith not Smith Barney

Creativity — legal, artistic, mechanical, scientific, or political — is often (always?) not creation but, rather, the selection and arrangement of what is already around us every day, unnoticed, until it is held up and discovered to be exactly what is needed to do what needs to be done.

Ruling Imagination: Law and Creativity

The Age of Collage and the RIAA

“The principle of collage is the central principle of all art in the twentieth century.”– Donald Barthelme (1931-1989)

Barthelme, one of the greatest and least appreciated writers of the Twentieth Century, has been described as “a man who, when the dust of critical obfuscation settles, will surely be remembered as one of the few truly important players in postmodernism’s controversial history.”  But while visual and literary collage are, if not fully accepted, well-established artistic forms, aural collage is not.

We live in a regime in which the recording companies require payment for any sample of recorded music, no matter how brief.

Paying for every last sampled note from a copyrighted song became industry practice after Judge Kevin Duffy in Grand Upright Music, Ltd v. Warner Bros. Records, Inc. , in a decision that did not even consider issues pertaining to fair use, enjoined the distribution of Biz Markie’s third album because one of its songs sampled three words and the accompaniment ostinato of Gilbert O’Sullivan’s schlock hit “Alone Again, Naturally.” Duffy wasn’t satisfied with a mere injunction, however: he referred the defendants to the U.S. Attorney’s office for criminal prosecution and wrote in his opinion, like a preacher from the pulpit, “‘Thou shalt not steal’ has been an admonition followed since the dawn of civilization. Unfortunately, in the modern world of business this admonition is not always followed.”

The U.S. Attorney’s office exercised its prosecutorial discretion and refused to seek an indictment against Biz Markie or his producers.

Record companies certainly have no interest in challenging the existing regime. The recordings they own are held inviolate too, so why challenge the right of another recording company to require payment for any sample, no matter how small, no matter transformative its use is, and no matter how little impact it will have on the market for the sampled piece? Artists who would challenge the existing regime hardly have the financial wherewithal to challenge the industry and the enormously successful artists who benefit from it. Thus, as Jonathan Lethem has written, “[a]lthough sampling was just a technological extension of the age-old process of learning through imitation, producers who use samples now pay up instead of trying to set precedents for fair use. “

Thus, the the RIAA states that “generally speaking, the use of any part of a song requires a license.”(emphasis added)

I’ll go more into questions of fair use in future posts, but for now let me put it this way: the RIAA’s position is, in light of the right of fair use, indefensible.  For business reasons, the RIAA’s policy has not faced serious challenge — record companies who issue work containing samples will pay for those samples so they in turn will be paid for samples of their own recordings.

But, as I mentioned in my post yesterday, technology changes everything, and we are on the verge of an age of legitimate unauthorized appropriation of recorded samples.  Girl Talk’s “Feed the Animals” is the latest product from Illegal Art that raises the question, posed by the N&VR Journal: “at what point does sampling end, and a new creation with a new ’songwriter’ begin?” It’s a question posed again and again by musical collage. It is not, as I am likely to point out again and again, a position that is “anti-copyright.” Rather, as Illegal Art’s founder, Philo T. Farnsworth, explains:

I should clarify that we are and we aren’t anti-copyright. We’re against copyright law when it impedes an artist’s ability to interact with pre-existing recordings. We’re not against copyright protecting artists from someone copying their material and selling it without compensating them.

And watch out — Girl Talk is one of the big new things.  Of course, it seems likely Girl Talk will be put to the legal test one of these days. That would be a good thing: we might finally have a genuine examination of the relationship between copyright, fair use, and sampling.