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.