A week or so ago I got a very agitato e-mail from the proprietor of one of those fine live music clubs in town. He’d just received a nastygram from a purported professional photographer hundreds and hundreds of miles away claiming that the club had stolen the photographer’s intellectual property, to wit, a photograph of a musician. The club had posted the photo on its website for a gig that took place last May. The ominous letter said there was no question that this infringement was willful, because the photograph appears on the photographer’s website with a big copyright notice and watermark, so the damages could be as high as $150,000, with an additional award of attorney’s fees, blah, blah, and blah blah. The letter included a copy of the original photograph, a screen capture of the club’s website showing the photo, and what was claimed was the copyright registration certificate for the photograph. The photographer said that litigation was “imminent” if the club didn’t immediately cough up $5000. Then there was a page and a half of various detailed technical demands on how to electronically preserve all the damning “evidence.”
Good lord. All this for a couple weeks of displaying a little photo on a website for a music club in Albany, NY.
When I finished laughing, I did a little digging and found out that the club’s web-person got the supposedly-purloined JPG from the band that the musician was appearing with, and the band got it from the musician’s Facebook page. And the JPG lacked any copyright notice or watermark. So the web-person assumed this was a promotional photo and used it for exactly what promotional photos are used for: to promote.
So, where does this leave things? Well, if the photo really was created by this photographer, OK, the club probably infringed. Copyright infringement does not require any intent on the part of the infringer, i.e. you can infringe without knowing you’re infringing. So there’s that. But, the law provides that if the infringer shows that he or she had no reason to suspect that he or she was infringing, the court can declare an “innocent infringement” and cut the damages to as low as $200.
Which is what I think we have here. The club’s web-person was given a promo pic from the band. All bands have promotional photographs, and they all carry an implied license that the photos can be used in various ways to promote the band. Duh!
There was no reason to think this was anything other than business as usual, no reason to think that this particular photograph (which wasn’t extraordinary or special in the least) was anything but a standard promo photo.
So I told Mr. Big Pro Photographer not to get his undies in a bundle and to just go away.
This is somewhat like what I deal with all the time with clients getting nailed by photo licensing libraries, most notably the Getty Archive, which has “enforcers” combing the web for unauthorized commercial uses of its hundreds of thousands of images, and then shaking down the perps for thousands of dollars in retroactive license fees. Typically, the images were found elsewhere online, through Google images or the like. Which doesn’t make it legal for people to use the photographs, something many people don’t understand, and their ignorance can be costly. Except here the club was provided the photograph by the band, which ostensibly had some legal authority to allow the photo’s use. The home team is innocent.
Compare this with the matter of jazz singer-bassist Esperanza Spalding and her boombox. She’s sitting on the boom-box on the cover of her Grammy-winning album Radio Music Society; she’s referred to it as her “totem”; and she’s selling T-shirts and other merch with the image of the boombox on it. Except it’s not a real boombox, but rather a sculpture—a wooden box covered with photographs so that it resembles a boom-box. Spalding bought the sculpture from a Brooklyn art gallery.
The photographer who provided the sculptor with the boombox photos asked that Spalding license the images and credit him, and has now sued Spalding in federal court for copyright infringement. As well he should. The fact that Spalding purchased the physical sculpture doesn’t give her any rights whatsoever to the copyright to the sculpture or the images on it, any more than buying a CD gives you ownership rights to the songs on the CD. And of course Spalding and her team know this. So, unless there’s some facts here we’re missing (this is all based on a New York Post article earlier this week, so it’s very possible that there are), Spalding’s refusal to pony up to a fellow artist with a legitimate beef is sad and reprehensible.
Paul Rapp is an entertainment lawyer who’s looking forward to hitting things with sticks with his Blotto mates at the WCDB anniversary party next Friday at Valentine’s Music Hall and Beer Joint.