Robin Hood And The Much Needed Change In Copyright Policy

A few years ago, Ridley Scott decided to direct a big budget Robin Hood film from an original script by Ethan Reiff and Cyrus Voris. The script was called Nottingham and it was a particularly unique take on the Robin Hood mythos: it was to be a medieval police procedural where the protagonist, the Sheriff of Nottingham, used forensic analysis and new investigation techniques to hunt down Robin (my understanding was that Robin would've been a fairly minor role, played almost like a movie monster). Well that's new! The take on the story wowed Scott and when he got involved, he hired writer Brian Helgeland to do a page-one rewrite of the script... because in Hollywood, the best way to show you love and appreciate someone's work is to scrap it altogether and replace it wholesale with something else. Anyway, the new collaboration yielded an even more intriguing concept: what if the Sheriff and Robin Hood were the same person but didn't know it?!! The story would be a Fight Club-esque exploration of personality disorders couched in the language of a medieval action film.

Like 'em or not, both of those concepts were definitely unique takes on the subject matter. But somewhere between the numerous rewrites and day one of principal photography, the story lost these elements and became 2010's Robin Hood, a fairly sober three hour origin story about the rights of landowners, following a middle-aged Robin as he tried to get King John to sign the Magna Carta.  Snore. The Sheriff himself showed up for about five minutes and was played as a bumbling ass.

Sadly, we'll probably never see Nottingham since the copyright to that script is now owned by Universal Pictures and they'll never let it out of their death grip. In Hollywood, when a writer pens a spec script (that is, an original, non-commissioned, unsolicited screenplay), the studio will always acquire the copyright from the writer before the script goes in front of the cameras. There are two ways this can happen: the first is through an "option." The studio pays the writer a nominal fee for the exclusive right to turn that script into a film for a stated period of time. The writer will retain ownership over the copyright until the script goes into production, at which point the studio will buy it outright (as always, I'm speaking in generalities and the specifics of each deal will depend on a number of different factors, such as the writer's reputation, the studio's negotiating tactics, etc). The second way is that the studio bypasses the option and buys the script directly from the writer.

Either way, the copyright eventually passes to the studio, and the studios tend not to be shy about exercising complete dominion over the work. They can shelve the script entirely or rewrite it from page one, changing literally everything that makes that script distinctive: the title, character names, thematic subtext, you name it. Even if the original writer is kept on board to do those rewrites, he is no longer working on his own property. He's just a hired gun and has no say over the changes demanded by the studio. Imagine getting fired from your own script because you didn't like the changes being made to it and you have a sense of how F'd up Hollywood can be sometimes. And this kind of thing happens all the time, where the final film bears so little resemblance to the original work that it becomes a functionally different entity altogether. And the saddest part is that these original screenplays languish forever in dusty studio vaults, never to be seen or heard from again.

So I'm 500 words into this essay and I haven't even stated why I'm writing it. Well honestly, I'm a film fan and I want to see Nottingham, which means that I'd like to see Reiff and Voris get another crack at having their script made. The fact that this will never happen is a creative travesty and I personally believe it violates the spirit of copyright. The protections given to copyright holders in the Constitution weren't meant to give them unassailable right to prevent others from using their work. Sure, there were protections against infringement, but the real purpose of the law was to promote artistic progress for the betterment of society, not for individual profit. Article I, Section 8 of the U.S. Constitution reads that:

“Congress shall have the power... to promote the progress of science and useful arts, by securing for limited times to authors and inventors the exclusive right to their respective writings and discoveries.”

Just check out Title 17, Chapter 1 of the U.S. Copyright Law to see what I'm talking about. There are whole species of escape hatches and exceptions built into the law that are designed to give artists leeway in using and relying on the works of others.  Fair use is a great and popular example of that.  In other words, the "exclusive rights" given to copyright holders under the law aren't so exclusive when you step back and look at the law in its entirety. But over time, the copyright policy in this country shifted away from innovation for the greater good to favor the copyright holder, which in many cases tend to be giant corporations. These corporate copyright holders are granted a wide latitude when protecting their work, often at the expense of individual artists. Hell, just this past week the new Copyright Alert System went into effect - a system intended to prevent online piracy of copyrighted works. Now fighting piracy is a decent (if not noble) intention, but this new law was backed by the RIAA, an organization that spent 10 years suing teenagers and dead people for downloading music from peer-to-peer sites, so you have to wonder what their motivations truly are. Just a small example: as a result of an RIAA lawsuit, Joel Tenenbaum of Massachusetts owes the record companies $675,000 for downloading 22 songs.

I'm on record saying that this type of one-sided treatment needs to stop, which is why I think the copyright laws in the country should be revised to better reflect the needs of individual artists. In particular, I would support a change that would permit copyright to automatically revert back to the original author after a certain period of time - say 10 years - if it went unused or was otherwise changed to such a degree that it could no longer be considered a derivate work. In practice, this system would allow the studio to use the screenplay it had just purchased and try to make it into a film. If the script underwent dramatic changes (as with Nottingham), the original script could revert back to the screenwriters, who could then have another chance to make the film they envisioned.

I'm sure there are lots of kinks to work out with the change I've envisioned; namely, how to enforce the automatic reversion, determining what is considered "use" of the material, and how continuous that usage must be over the 10 year period, but I think this is a conversation worth having. There's no reason why Nottingham and Robin Hood can't co-exist. Especially in light of the fact that A) Robin Hood bombed, and B) a revisionist take on the material favoring the Sheriff as a medieval detective could have enormous franchise potential. If Universal doesn't want a piece of that pie, there's no reason it has to throw the entire thing in the trash.

[Author's note: I realize that I've posted two entries in a 3 week period bagging on Ridley Scott films, but I'm actually a big fan. I think Kingdom of Heaven is a masterpiece.]

When Below-The-Line Goes Over The Cliff: Class Warfare In Hollywood

If you have a friend or family member who works in the entertainment industry, then you've probably seen them change their Facebook profile picture or other social media avatar to this:

This image represents a green screen, a necessary tool for digital visual effects designers, the latest Hollywood sub-industry that's about to fall off its own fiscal cliff.  Most people don't know that Sunday's Oscar ceremony was picketed by members of the visual effects community trying to raise awareness about the financial hardships many in that industry face.  You see, Hollywood studios have basically been involved in a class war against below-the-line talent (like visual effects artists, writers, prop people, production designers, etc.) for some time now.  With movie budgets ballooning past all semblance of reality, many of the studios have started outsourcing the VFX work to cheaper locales overseas in order to take advantage of significant savings in cost and manpower, as well as tax breaks and subsidies.  For the artist who's slaved over a hot computer for years in order to make the physically impossible digitally possible, this relentless "cut costs at all costs" approach has resulted in long hours, poor working conditions, bad pay, no respect, and potential job loss.  Too make matters worse, most of the artists and the companies they work for don't get to participate in any profit sharing if the film is a hit.

When I lived in LA, I interned at two separate digital effects houses, one of them did the VFX for Smallville and the other was finishing up some VFX for Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest.  I saw first hand just what they went through.  Say what you want about the Pirates franchise, but there's no denying that the visual effects were stunning.  I think Davy Jones is the most perfectly realized digital villain ever made because of the blood sweat and tears those animators poured into him for 20 hours a day, seven days a week, for months on end without a break.  When the project ended, their pay was barely better than mine!

Anyway, this above-the-line/ below-the-line rivalry came to a head during this Sunday's Oscar telecast when Bill Westenhofer, a VFX supervisor for Rhythm and Hues, accepted the award his company won for their work on Life of Pi and had his mic cut when he started to talk about the financial difficulties facing his company.  In fact, Rhythm and Hues, the powerhouse FX company behind Babe, Happy Feet, The Incredible Hulk, 300, The Chronicles of Narnia, and The Hunger Games just filed for bankruptcy because it kept getting underbid by oversea FX houses.  It didn't help matters when Ang Lee failed to thank the VFX guys in his Best Director speech and actively undermined the entire VFX industry a few days ago by publicly wishing that visual effects were cheaper.

IO9 has a nice write up here about the situation.  You should also read this piece by Drew McWeeny of HitFix, one of the best film critics on the web today. They explain better than I do why this is important.

As a film fan, this bugs the hell out of me because I want to see quality work made by people who are good at their jobs.  As a producer it frustrates me because I've seen too many people boxed out of deserving financial reward because they weren't powerful enough to fight for their rights.  As a human being and American, it angers me because this schism in the entertainment world pretty accurately mirrors the class war going on in the rest of the economy. And as a lawyer, it incenses me because there are so few legal avenues available for these guys to fight back, even if they are willing.

As a general matter, our current law is somewhere between 10-15 years behind the times; for all intents and purposes it's stuck in 1997. When it comes to protected groups, this country has done a good job legislating to protect people against discrimination based on race, gender, national origin, age, and disability.  But it's clear that Congress does not recognize any class division in this country and thus has no intention to protect class through legislation.  And make no mistake, above-the-line types like executives, directors, and producers are in a wholly separate financial class than the below-the-line talent like VFX artists and writers.  They're the ones living paycheck to paycheck.  They're the ones going without medical coverage so they afford gas to drive their kids to school, they're the ones who never know where the next paycheck is coming from and as a result rent their homes instead of owning because they could lose their job like *that* and heaven help them pay property taxes in LA with no money coming in.  So when the high muck-a-mucks make a decision to freeze out the VFX artists from getting any kind of financial or personal recognition, much like they did during 2007's Writer's Strike, it means that their legal options are few and far between.  In short, the VFX artists don't have any legal rights to fall back on outside of any contractual ones that might have been breached.

Devin Faraci over at Badass Digest (another of the web's best film journalists) suggested that it's time for the VFX artists to unionize, and I like that idea. But Devin also recognized that as a culture we've largely moved past that.  And really, it's not like belonging to the WGA helped the writers in 2007.  So what else can the artists do?  Well, raising awareness and generating public support is certainly key if they want to increase their bargaining power.  But to be honest, I don't really think they have a strong legal challenge here, and that pisses me off.  Our current law is just not adequately designed to help those who earn less than others, and now the VFX artists in Hollywood are going to be the next casualty.

[Updated!] Paper Equals Proof, Why You Should Get Everything In Writing

"A verbal contract isn't worth the paper it's written on." - Samuel Goldwyn

Even though this quote is both misattributed and didn't actually happen, I love it because it speaks a simple truth about contracts. Namely, if you don't have one in writing, you don't have one.

When I first moved to LA after graduating from RISD, I picked up some freelance work from an indie producer who was trying to get some low-budget TV projects off the ground.  He liked my moxie and we got along well, so he hired me as a camera-operator for a demo he was producing.  He offered me $100 per day for three days work in a transaction that was conducted orally.  I wanted the offer in writing, but I was so desperate for work that I didn't want to negotiate myself out of the job by asking for it.

Yes, I was stupid for not getting it in writing and when he stiffed me on half the payment, we both knew that even though a verbal contract is legally enforceable, I couldn't prove that he owed me another $150. There are thousands of young artists - and a whole lot of experienced ones - in the same boat who don't put anything in writing because they don't know that they should, can't be bothered, or think that drafting a contract is too expensive and/or time-consuming.  Now I certainly can't do anything about laziness or apathy, but I can tell you why contracts are important and how you can draft your own.

As a lawyer, I like everything in writing because paper equals proof; that is to say, having something in writing is proof that a conversation took place, or that an agreement occurred.  That's all a contract is after all: evidence that an agreement took place so that if you end up in a legal battle, you can prove your side of the story.  Otherwise you end up in a "he said/he said" situation and courts generally don't look favorably on those. So for the love of God, if you're hired to make a work of art, or you sell a piece of art, memorialize it somewhere somehow.  "But Greg" you might say, "don't contracts have to be drafted by lawyers?"  Well my friends, here's the dirty little secret behind contracts - NOPE!

At the risk of negotiating myself out of potential clients (I do that a lot, don't I?), a contract is no more enforceable in court just because it was written by a lawyer.  Obviously there are certain benefits to having a contract drafted by someone with a legal education - namely a lawyer can think of all sorts of ways to protect you in writing than you couldn't dream of - but if you're like most artists out there, then you don't have a lot of discretionary cash lying around to make this happen.  So instead, I'm going to give you some tips to help you make your own while maximizing your self-protection.

1. For a contract/agreement/bill of sale to be valid, it must state all the material terms.  Specifically, you need to mention the parties involved in the transaction, the quantity of items sold or the type of service rendered, and price.  You should also put anything else you think is important.  If you don't wish to have a return policy, make sure to state that all sales are final.
2. If you're shipping a work to a buyer, write down which party is liable if the art is destroyed or damaged during shipment.  This is called Risk of Loss and can bite you in the ass if it's not discussed ahead of time.
3. Make sure to mention who owns the copyright upon completion of the work.  If it's a work-for-hire situation, you could end up losing it without even realizing it.
4. Use plain English.  Most people think a contract needs a lot of "heretofore's" and "wherein's" and "thusly's"  but they just make it harder to read.  Instead, draft a contract like you would draft a professional email to a colleague.
5. Email chains are acceptable in lieu of a paper agreement as long as the material terms are there and understood by all parties.
6. For bills of sale, they can be sent after the sale, although they still need the material terms.
7. You can use a template version so you don't have to draft a new one from scratch for each transaction.
8. Keep two copies of each final agreement, one physical paper copy and one scanned copy on your hard drive.
9. A contract isn't valid if both parties don't agree to all the terms.  Before you start working, make sure the other party is on board because you could end up doing a lot of work without getting paid.
10. Finished contracts should be signed and dated by both parties and each party should have a copy of the signed and dated final.
11. Stand your ground on the terms you can't live without and be flexible on everything else.  If our Congress has taught us anything, it's that drawing a hard line in the sand on every issue results in no one getting anything they want.  Be flexible and willing to negotiate.
12. Finally, don't be afraid to ask for a written version of your verbal agreement.  Too many people don't do this because they think it's disrespectful or indicates mistrust.  This is not true.  If anything, you'll look more professional for it.

The truth about contracts is that if you know what you want and are willing to put a little time and effort into getting it down on paper, they're not nearly as intimidating as they seem at first.  That said, if you truly don't know what you're doing (I leave it to you to know when that is), or you're just not comfortable drafting an agreement, please please please hire a lawyer to do it for you.

If you're trying to make a living as an artist, then you don't need things to be more difficult... the deck is already stacked heavily against you.  Having a written agreement for each of your sales/hires/commissions/whatevers may create a bit more work up front for you, but I promise you that the one time you need it and you have it, it will save your ass.  And then it will be worth it.

Even When You Sell Your Work, You Still Own Your Work

My cousin Danny and his wife Lira are talented fine artists and painters. Every so often, they'll hold open studios at their home and I like to attend so I can see what they've been working on recently. During the last open studio, one of Danny's neighbors decided to buy a painting. After a very brief discussion over price, the neighbor went away and reappeared five minutes later with cash. He gave Danny the cash, they shook hands, and the neighbor walked away with the painting. The entire transaction took three seconds. There was no discussion regarding return policy, dissatisfaction with the art, or ownership over the art's copyright upon conveyance. Honestly, Danny didn't seem all that concerned about losing his rights to the work once it left his studio, and thus he felt no compulsion to memorialize the sale in writing with a discussion over terms of the sale.

And you know what? He was right not to be worried, because under U.S. Copyright Law, he still owns that work! You see, according to this circular put out by the U.S. Copyright Office:

Mere ownership of a book, manuscript, painting, or any other copy or phonorecord does not give the possessor the copyright. The law provides that transfer of ownership of any material object that embodies a protected work does not of itself convey any rights in the copyright.

Any or all of the copyright owner’s exclusive rights or any subdivision of those rights may be transferred, but the transfer of exclusive rights is not valid unless that transfer is in writing and signed by the owner of the rights conveyed or such owner’s duly authorized agent... Copyright is a personal property right, and it is subject to the various state laws and regulations that govern the owner­ ship, inheritance, or transfer of personal property as well as terms of contracts or conduct of business.

In plain English, this means that when an artist sells his artwork to a buyer, he is only selling the physical object - the wood, canvas, and paint - not the artistic expression that created the painting. In order for the copyright to be conveyed along with the artwork, it must be done explicitly in writing. Therefore, even though Danny's neighbor is now the owner of the physical painting, Danny still owns the artistic expression of that painting, and retains full control over how to use, display, and promote that image.

[Author's note: This does not apply to artists who are hired to create a custom work of art. That's a work-for-hire scenario and the copyright belongs to the person who commissioned the work, not the artist who creates it.]

Here's another recent example: the wedding photographer I hired to make me look good on my wedding day retains the copyright to my wedding photos. If he decides to promote his business using images he took of me and my wife, I have no say about it, even though I own the physical prints and JPEG files of those photos (as long as I'm not defamed, but that's a blog post for a different time). So this awesome pic of me?

Even though it's my face and my killer smile, I can't make any money off of it. I should add that buyers DO retain the right to display the physical work for non-commercial purposes, but will of course open themselves to a lawsuit if they attempt to make money off a copyright they don't own.

So if you're a fine artist and you're concerned that by selling your work you lose all rights to it, don't worry. You will control that work for as long as you live (and for 70 years after you die), even if you've long since sold the piece of canvas it was painted on.

[Author's Update, Feb, 18th, 2013 1:17pm: Danny told me today that following a sale, he will provide buyers with a Bill of Sale informing them that the copyright remains with him. This is a good practice and I highly recommend that everyone out there adopt this or a similar practice. Too many artists think that once they sell the work they have to give up the copyright, and that's just not the case.]

When The Movies Get It Right: Good Cops, Bad Cops, and American Gangsters

In the pantheon of 70's style American crime films, Ridley Scott's 2007 American Gangster is a solid entry, but it's not great, and certainly no all-timer. There's a kind of undercooked quality to it that prevents it from rising to the level of French Connection, an inspiration American Gangster clearly wears on it's sleeve. That's partly because the film doesn't know if it wants to glorify or criticize the gangster lifestyle, and partly because Sir Ridley, while a talented filmmaker, simply doesn't understand American social mores, so the racial aspects of the story (out of which a significant amount of the drama flows) feel half-thought out. It also doesn't help that Scott wants every outdoor scene to take place in the middle of a snow flurry, even though the film was clearly shot sometime in August (seriously man, have the courtesy to digitally erase the green tree leaves if you're trying to convince me that it's the middle of December).

What keeps the film from cracking under the weight of its own dopey seriousness is the raw thundering power of Denzel Washington's mobster Frank Lucas, the understated badassitude of Russell Crowe's incorruptible cop Richie Roberts, and Josh Brolin's mustache. Also there's a conversation that occurs between Frank and Richie near the end of the film that just floors me every time I watch it. Frank Lucas has been finally captured and it turns out that he's become the biggest heroin dealer in New York, by far outclassing the Italian Mafioso's who want Frank's head on a platter. Richie, who has spent the past two years trying to nail Frank, finally has his chance to interrogate him.

Frank

What do you want me to do? Snitch, huh? I know you don't want me to give up no cops. What do you want? You want gangsters? Pick one. Jew gangsters? Mick gangsters? Guineas? They've been bleeding Harlem dry since they got off the boat, Richie. I don't give a fuck about no crime figures. You can have them.

Richie

I'll take them, too.

Frank

You'll take them, too? No, you didn't. You're talking about police. You want police? You want your own kind?

Richie

They're not my kind. They're in business with you, Frank, they ain't my kind. They ain't my kind like the Italians are not yours.

Take that Frank! The films take great pains to show us that Richie has a reputation as an untouchable, especially in comparison to Brolin's Detective Trupo who is basically selling the French Connection dope on the side to afford his big house and sporty car. To illustrate: early in the film, Richie and his partner discover almost a million dollars in cash stuffed in the trunk of a car. Instead of skimming a little off the top, like most cops in the early 70's would have, Richie turns it all in. Every cent. And that kind of incorruptibility makes him a target. His partner leaves him and no one will work with him.  Eventually Richie is hired to head up a federal narco task force made up of other good cops and together they go after Frank.  As a result of the above-conversation between Richie and Frank, 3/4 of the entire NYPD narcotics division is arrested for corruption.

And you know how they do it?  Through good cop work.  Investigations based on probable cause.  Arrests based on valid warrants.  Interrogations that don't violate the suspects' Miranda rights.   I've seen the film about a dozen times and I haven't seen a single 4th, 5th, or 6th Amendment right being violated.

Now for those of you who don't know me very well, I am - by all accounts - a big square.  Like any rational person, I don't like bad cops. But I also don't support films where bad cops are celebrated.  The only cops and robbers movie that dares get close yet still earns my respect is L.A. Confidential.  The film is an absolute classic in a way that American Gangster will never be, but in L.A. Confidential, the good guy Ed Exley, ends up shooting the bad guy in the back AFTER THE BAD GUY SURRENDERED!!! The only reason I can even remotely tolerate that is because the bad guy turned out to be L.A. Police Captain Dudley Smith, who was also secretly running the mob and indiscriminately killing civilians and police detectives over 25 pounds of heroin.  Exley probably didn't need to shoot Smith in the back, but I can understand that letting Smith go would be a non-starter (Smith's cache with the Police Chief and District Attorney would almost certainly result in him getting his charges dismissed and leaving him free to exact revenge on Exley).  Now to be fair, while I can justify killing Smith, I feel icky about the mental gymnastics required of me to make that moral choice... thank God it's only a movie!

So while American Gangster isn't a great film and sometimes feels like two halves of two different stories, I can get on board with it because it has cojones to be square, to not celebrate shooting the bad guy in the back, to celebrate good cop work, like another 2007 crime drama I wrote about a few months ago, David Fincher's Zodiac.   The fact that Richie was able to take down all those bad cops by doing good cop work in real life is icing on the cake, and gives me hope for our men and women walking the thin blue line.

Court to Netflix: "You Don't Got Mail"

Well, barely two weeks have passed since my self-imposed exile from the blog, but I promised that I would I pipe up if something caught my interest, so here I am, piping away!

A few days ago, a three judge panel in Washington D.C. smacked the U.S. Post Office for giving favorable treatment to Netflix.  Gamefly, the  video-game-by-mail service, sued the Post Office claiming that mail order DVDs sent out by Netflix were bypassing the traditional route and being fast-forwarded to customers.  The end result was discrimination against Gamefly and other mail order services by forcing them into slower routes, while making them to pay higher shipping fees than Netflix.

Netflix sure doesn't need this right now.  They've had a rough go of it the past 16 months.  First there was the price hike debacle in September 2011 which saw customers abandoning the service like it was afflicted with syphilis.   Their stocks tanked after less than stellar subscribership in the third quarter this year.  And don't forget the recent spate of outages. Even now with their stock rebounding after scoring a partnership to stream Disney content, Netflix is in a tenuous place because their long-term plan to move from a mail delivery service to an entirely streaming online service is both pricey and technology dependent.  Not to mention that Netflix has to continue negotiating deals with movie studios: high-level sophisticated players who negotiate like mobsters because they know without their content, Netflix dies.  Which means that if Netflix wants to keep streaming content, there's going to be a price hike sometime in the future... probably sooner than later too.  God help Reed Hastings when he has to make that public announcement!  This means that Netflix is going to be leaning on its DVD mail service longer than it expected way back in the halcyon days of August 2011 when Qwikster sounded like a good idea.  So this Gamefly lawsuit is pretty much a kick in the nuggets for Netflix any way you look at it.

But here's my prediction: Netflix isn't going anywhere.  First, mail order or streaming, Netflix still does it better than anyone else and with a wide enough selection of content to make most people think twice about leaving.  Second, Netflix is expanding its business model by creating original content and picking up critical darling Arrested Development (one of my all-time faves) for a 14 episode run, with potential for a fifth season.  Lastly, DVDs are a dead format and everyone knows it.  DVD sales have been steadily declining over the past few years.  I'm a big fan of physical formats like Blu-ray because of the high quality audio-video presentation, but I'll also acknowledge that I'd rather rent through Netflix, Hulu, or Apple TV the vast majority of the time, and I think the American public agrees with me.  Hell, even my mom stopped watching DVDs.  She now watches movies exclusively On Demand.  My mom!!!  The Blu-Ray player I bought her two years ago is the fanciest dust collection device she owns.

Netflix knows the end of the physical format is nigh; their problem is that they got bitten for trying to usher it along sooner than the public was ready.  But that time is here folks.  And Netflix helped lead the way.

Okay, back into exile I go...

Life Events And The Art of Reduced Capacity Blogging

Dear friends and readers.  Starting December 31st, 2012 and continuing through March 1, 2013, I will be stepping away from The [Legal] Artist to devote my time to some off-blog business.  While I expect to be fully engaged during that time, I hope to slip away now and again to muse about the various intertwinings between art and law, so check back once in a while for a nugget or two.  Once March rolls around, I will be back up to speed and blogging like a maniac.

Thank you all for your readership.  Until March, I wish you all a Happy New Year and a prosperous 2013!

Sweat the Business Stuff Redux: Patience and The Art of Turning Your Art Into Your Business

While visiting my family in Connecticut over the holidays, my mom came to me on behalf of a friend who had a legal question.  This friend "Sally" is a middle school teacher and had developed a unique idea for an educational curriculum for science teachers.  She wanted to market and sell the curriculum, but had some concerns over whether she could use the title she came up with.

Since I was in the Christmas spirit and Sally was operating on a budget of less than zero, I told my mom that Sally could very easily (and for free!) run a trademark check at the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office website (titles are protected under trademark law, but only if registered through the USPTO).  If the title was available, the website explained how she could register it and what it would cost.  I also suggested to my mom that Sally find a way to hire a lawyer despite budget constraints because A) I'm not licensed to practice law in Connecticut and therefore couldn't provide anymore worthwhile advice, and B) there might be some trademark dilution issues if the title was too similar to something else already out there.

A few days passed and my mom told me that Sally had gone to the USPTO website but ended up without any answers.  To Sally, the website was difficult to navigate and understand; she wound up more confused than ever.  When my mom asked me what Sally should do, this was my answer:

"Sally should hire a lawyer.  If she can't afford one, she'll have to become her own.  That will mean spending a lot of time being confused at first.  But eventually she'll understand and be a better business owner because of it."

In the past, I've spoken about sweating the business stuff, but I haven't really detailed what that means for all you budding artrepreneurs out there.  So by way of closing out the year at The [Legal] Artist, here are the top three things you and Sally need to do to turn your art into your business:

(1) Have patience.  Seriously, this may be the most important thing I ever tell you.  Artists, by nature, are doers who thrive on activity and creation.  That's a wonderful thing in my opinion, but successful businesses require someone behind the wheel to be thinking and planning, playing the long game (for your Boardwalk Empire fans out there, think of it this way: every Lucky Luciano needs a Meyer Lanksy).  And playing the long game requires patience.  In Sally's case, if she can't hire a lawyer to walk her through this process, she's going to have to do it herself.  Which means looking at a lot of documents she won't understand.  Sally will end up frustrated and agitated and the business will take off a lot slower than she wants.  But that's okay!  If she has patience and keeps at it (with a little help from Google) these complicated things will eventually seem less complicated.  When I started law school, I had to read each case 3-4 times before I understood what I was reading.  With some practice, I learned how to do it in a fraction of the time.   If Sally spends an hour or so clicking around the USPTO website, eventually it will start to make sense and she won't need to pay a lawyer $400 an hour to do something she can do by herself for free... if only she has some patience with the process. 

(2) Decide what kind of form your business will take.  There's no doubt about it - people take you more seriously if you're a business.  Years ago when I was a young television producer, I went out to pitch a number of TV show and script ideas.   One network executive looked me right in the eye and said "we like you, but we will not do business with you until you incorporate."  A week later, Hammerspace Productions LLC was born. 

If you want to turn your art into a business, then you're going to have to actually turn it into a business; that means deciding what type of business you want to create.  For artrpreneurs, the most obvious choices for business type are sole proprietorships (if you're the only employee) and LLCs, mainly due to the low start-up costs and paperwork.  There's a good article here explaining the difference, but the gist is that with an LLC, you pay income tax for both yourself and the business, but the business shields you from personal liability (if you're sued, they can only come after business assets, not your personal assets).  With a sole proprietorship, you only pay taxes on the profit you make, but you are open to personal liability (meaning someone can sue you for the acts of your business, putting your personal assets at risk, such as your checking and savings accounts, and even your house).  In a sole proprietorship, you generally do not file any documentation with the state, whereas an LLC requires certain documentation to get going (such as a federal EIN, state and federal tax documents, etc).  Check with your state's Secretary of State to find out wha documents they require.

(3) Draft a business plan.  This is a tough thing to ask of artists because it requires them to think about things like taxes and finances and long-term planning.  Hell, even after seven years producing and three years of law school (and dozens of jobs and internships in between) I'm still struggling with it.  But a business plan is extremely necessary for two reasons:  First, it shows outsiders that you're serious and have given your business some thought.  Second, it lays out a path for you and helps you understand steps you need to take to get your business off the ground.  A business plan need not be written in stone.  It should be a living document that grows with the business.  Put in as much or as little detail as you want.  Regardless of whatever form the plan takes, it should impart one clear message: you have thought about this business and know what is required to make it a successful one.

As you build your business, there will be a lot of little things to consider.  How will you accept payment?  How will you market your wares?  Will you pay taxes yearly or quarterly?  All of these things are important on some level, but getting these big decisions made will take some time, so don't rush it.  Have a little patience.  I promise that you (and Sally) will be glad you did.

Have a Happy New Year everyone!

"Caveat Emptor" or Why It's [Kind of] Okay For Facebook and Instagram To Steal From You

"If you are not paying for it, you're not the customer; you're the product being sold."

- Meta-Filter user blue_beetle

I had planned on writing about Instagram's massive PR shit-storm this week so I could address the ramifications of its new terms of service; you know, where they basically said to their users "you still own your copyrighted work, but we're going to strip away all the rights surrounding that so we can make money off your work and you can't do anything to stop us." [If you don't know, Instagram proposed that they could sub-license photos you posted in the app to other entities such as advertisers without paying you, the copyright owner]. I ended up not writing about it because the backlash was so big and swift against the social network that they backpedaled, reverting to their old terms of service.  Thus ended the issue in my mind.

Then I had a change of heart because I realized that this was a good time to discuss a topic that I think everyone should be well versed on: caveat emptor, a.k.a. let the buyer beware.  Caveat Emptor has its roots in property law and the idea is pretty simple: you should do the research when you buy something.  If you fail to cross all the "t"s, dot all the "i"s, you don't have any legal recourses when you buy something that turns out to be defective. When you sign a contract, courts presume that both sides know what they're getting themselves into.  That's why you generally can't plead ignorance when a contract screws you over.

So when blue_beetle says "if you are not paying for it, you're not the customer; you're the product being sold" he means that when you sign up for a Facebook or Instagram account, you have to assume that these services want something from you, and you should read their terms of service and find out what you're getting into.  And truth be told, I [mostly] agree with blue_beetle.  Now I certainly don't condone someone profiting off your copyright without giving you a cut.  And I really get up in arms when large corporate copyright holders try to stick it to individual artists who don't have the power or wherewithal to fight back.  That violates everything I stand for.  But people do need to have  certain expectations when they sign a contract with these services - and make no mistake, a Facebook or Instagram account is a legally binding contract.  These services are not charity organizations; they are corporations (or rather, a single large corporation due to Facebook's acquisition of Instagram earlier this year) and the paramount driving force of a corporation is to make lots and lots of $$$.  If that means exploitation of its user base, then so be it.

When Facebook shares your personal information with advertisers, you don't have an expectation of privacy to that information.  After all, you shared it freely and willingly.  And even if you limit which users can see that information with Facebook's privacy settings, your information is never private to Facebook - your contract is with them, not with other Facebook users.  Meanwhile, if Instagram decides they want to license photos you share to advertisers, then can do it simply because you agreed to their terms of service.  Is it ethical?  Not really.  But is it legal?  Unfortunately it is.

I believe that the first step to controlling your artistic destiny is becoming vigilant to the situations you get yourself into. When you post a picture to Facebook or Instagram, you should understand that they will take some level of ownership over that picture.  Despite my many gripes, I will be sticking with Facebook and Instagram for the time being.  I understand that they want something from me and I'm willing to accept that in return for the personal and commercial benefits I derive from using those social networks.

But just because something is legal doesn't mean we have to let them get away with it.  There are other ways to measure success beyond a lawsuit.  For example, exploiting users' copyrighted work as Instagram tried to do this week is pretty bad policy.  We know that because the level of apoplexy that erupted forced Instagram to scurry back into the warm (if financially shallow) embraces of its old policies.   Instagram knows isn't the only photo sharing app out there with neat filters and it learned that if it can't work WITH users instead of against them, well there's always Flickr and Hipstamatic waiting to take your business.  And they'll be much more agreeable to having terms that benefit the user.

Happy Holidays everyone!

[Author's correction: in my post a few weeks ago about the Facebook copyright policy issue, I stated that Facebook can't arbitrarily change its terms of service once you sign them.  While that is generally correct in normal contract situations, that is not how it works with services like these.  Both Facebook and Instagram state in their terms of service that they may materially change their terms at will, and by continuing to have an account with them, you agree to those  new terms.  I think that such terms are probably bad policy as well, but I see nothing legally wrong with them.  If there are any contracts attorneys out there who are willing to educate me otherwise, I'm all ears.  I'd love to hear that such terms violate some law or another.]

Filmmaker-2-Filmmaker: Tip 4 - You Need To Insure Your Gear

A few weeks ago, I was on the phone with my cousin, a freelance photographer living in Los Angeles.  He had been shooting some fashion shots at a client's warehouse and paused to look over some of the slides with the client.  He set his camera on the ground and one of the client's employees accidentally kicked it while walking by.  Luckily, the camera body (worth about $5K retail) remained intact, but the lens was shot to hell. It would cost him $600 to replace and he wasn't sure if he should ask the client to cover that cost.  On the one hand, the client was responsible and my cousin didn't have 600 spare dollars lying around.  On the other hand, my cousin is a freelancer and didn't want to risk losing the client by asking him to pay for the lens.  To add another wrinkle, he needed to get the lens replaced ASAP because he only had the one camera and couldn't book more jobs without it.

We discussed the pros and cons of approaching the client, but in my mind, time and ability to book more jobs was more important, so I told my cuz "file a claim with your insurance company right away."  His response: "I don't have insurance."  D'oh!

With the exception of acting or interpretive dance, every artist needs some form of equipment to do the job.   All art is reliant on it, especially film and photography.  Which is why you absolutely, positively, unequivocally without hesitation need to insure your gear.

Because here's the thing: your gear is the single biggest investment you will ever make in your work.  And if it gets damaged, your ability to do your job decreases exponentially.  You do have some legal options, but the law is not particularly user friendly, what with all the time and money involved in suing someone... money that you probably don't have lying around waiting to be burned.  And anyway, why sue when insurance is so much cheaper and easier?   Besides, it's not like you have an unassailable right to have the client pay for your damaged gear (unless the client agrees to it in writing which I've never seen in my seven years of producing television). In my experience, insuring your gear is the best way to cover your ass... especially in those early lean years when you really can't afford to piss off a client by demanding he pay for gear he broke.

Truth: early in my freelance career, I had upwards of $15K worth of camera and editing gear insured through a "personal articles policy" with State Farm.  Do you know how much I paid on a monthly basis to have that peace of mind? $10 a month.  And the policy covered theft, loss, and damage (even if I was the responsible party).  Having that coverage was a no-brainer.  And because of it, I never had to jeopardize a relationship with a client over equipment that was damaged, and I never had to cancel a gig because I couldn't afford to replace broken gear.

But let's say you have no insurance and your client smashes your camera to bits.  Let's also assume that your relationship with the client is beyond saving and you're willing to litigate.  From my seat, there are two legal options.  If you can't prove that your client maliciously destroyed your property but he/she is clearly to blame for its demise, you could sue for damages under a simple run-of-the-mill negligence claim.  Even if the damage was done by the client's employee as opposed to the client him/herself, the client will still be liable for it (in tort law, respondeat superior makes the actions of an employee attributable to the employer).

On the other hand, if you have some proof that the client (or the client's employee) willfully and maliciously destroyed your equipment?  You could sue under the intentional tort of trespass to chattels, otherwise known as vandalism.

The problem with litigation, of course, is the cost.  Not just in litigation fees, but in time.  An average lawsuit can take years to litigate and cost tens of thousands of dollars.  It's a serious investment that can get even more serious if you lose.  That's not even mentioning the emotional and creative suckage it causes.  And if you're a small-business owner or struggling artist, do you really want a lawsuit taking up space in your brain when it could be filled with creative stuff instead?  I spoke before about sweating the business stuff, and I think insurance is no.1 or no.2 on the list of smart, cheap things that will help your business in the short and long run.