Ttttthhhiiiiiiiissssssss Wwwwwaaaasssssssss Aaaaaaawwwwweeeeeesssssooooommmmmeeee

Part of me wishes that I had written a piece of music in response to the beet stretch, or that I did the vlog option and stretched it out. I LOVED the beet stretch. It was so awesome. I have never been so calm while listening to music. I think this is going to replace Glenn Gould for my calming music while I work.

Naturally, I was so entranced with it that I had to share it with everyone I met for the next few days—ok, so I shared with the people sitting in my office with me at work, but hyperbolic language is sometimes necessary to drive the point home. They also really appreciated it, but they couldn’t believe that it was Beethoven.

Beethoven’s 9th Symphony is perhaps one of his most well known today (if for no other reason than because Ode to Joy was forever immortalized by Blockbuster commercials in the 90s). It was the first song that my brother and I learned how to play on the guitar (although I’m a little rusty now) so, I would say that I am somewhat familiar; however, if I hadn’t done some internet research, I don’t know that I would have known that this was Beethoven. I knew that it was a classical piece, but it could have easily been Bach, Handel, or Mozart. How would I know the difference from listening to it slowed down at the rate that I heard it—for all I know this is an elaborate rouse that Andre is playing on us with Leif Inge in an effort to make us plunder other pieces of music to fit their radical recyclable agenda.

This of course poses the question that was discusses so poignantly in last week’s readings. Who owns what?

Does Leif Inge own 9 Beet Stretch, or does Beethoven? Ludwig van Beethoven composed the 9th Symphony; he was the revolutionary mind that decided to make the work a choral symphony (credited as the first of its kind) even though singers regularly comment that it is often performed as an instrumental because it is so incredibly hard to sing.

Beethoven had the idea; he composed; he conducted it when it was first played.

Does he have the ownership of 9 Beet Stretch?

Beethoven, technically, isn’t completely responsible for Symphony No. 9. “Ode to Joy” was a poem written by Friedrich Schiller in 1785 and revised in 1803. The words to that poem are the lyrics to Symphony No. 9. Does that mean that Schiller is the real author of Beethoven’s 9th?

I contend that only if Schiller is the owner of Symphony No. 9, than 9 Beet Stretch is also his. If that isn’t the case (and I certainly don’t think that it is) than 9 Beet Stretch is essentially an original work.

You Don't Own Me

What is artistic ownership really?

Do we really own anything that we make? Are we even responsible for the things that we consider to be products of our own imagination; other works of art, stories other people tell us, and even the experiences of others, influences those things. Does ownership depend on whether or not we are standing behind a lens or holding the pen/brush? Or does it simply depend on how much we alter existing artwork.

Does Aaron Valdez own his work? He is simply compiling news footage and editing in such a way that it that it suits his agenda, which in counterintuitive to the agenda in the original media. Does that mean that he owns the art simply because he owns the agenda? Is it even really his agenda? Surely, he isn’t the only artist or filmmaker to believe that we are oversaturated with media—particularly the right wing hate mongering of Fox News.

Where can we draw the line? Is my documentary really mine? I don’t own my subject—although I do have her consent. I am not the first person to document an artist’s work or struggle. Does that mean that my work is unoriginal and up for pillaging by other artists? How would I feel if someone incorporated my work into their work to say that people with disease should not be able to make art? I may not agree with that notion, but it is certainly the right of the acquiring artist.

I suppose it comes down to our ideology about art. What’s our society’s view on art? Is it created as a means for capital gains or simply a way to comment and assess the way the world works? Obviously, monetary gain is a perk to making art for a living, but is that the only reason?

If making art carries all the weight of standing behind a check out counter or answering phones or scrubbing floors, then, yes, ownership is vital, and we should fight tooth and nail for every penny and every ounce of recognition; people like Joy Garnett and Aaron Valdez are glorified thieves, who should come up with their own ideas for which they can profit or they should pay us for the rights to incorporate our original work.

I, personally, cannot subscribe to that idea. Sure, it would be nice if I can make some money making art, but I don’t count on it. I plan to have a day job and apply for grants that would afford me the luxury of making the films that I want to make.

The Molotov Man belongs to Joy Garnett. Susan Meiselas may think that Garnett’s use of her photography diminishes the importance of her subject, but Garnett saw the potential in the photograph to comment on the universal need of man to make noise and express extreme emotion. Her agenda was not to embody the horrific struggle for freedom in Nicaragua; that agenda was Meiselas’s and it deserves equal respect. These works are separate, and they should be treated as such.