And in other news, clowns the world over can breathe a collective sigh of relief – Jeff Koons has dropped the case in which he claimed copyright over balloon dogs. Koons sued San Francisco bookshop, Park Life, for selling book ends fashioned to look like balloon dogs, claiming that they infringed his copyright and intellectual property rights. In their response, Park Life’s lawyers observed that: “as virtually any clown can attest, no one owns the idea of making a balloon dog, and the shape created by twisting a balloon into a dog-like form is part of the public domain”.

Heh.

(Image via www.festivals-and-shows.com)

It’s an interesting view from the other side of the fence… of the law itself, Cariou observes: “In my opinion copyright law is badly done, because there is one word in that law that makes everyone really confused, and that word is “transformative.” It took me over a year to understand what that meant, it was explained to me and I didn’t get it, and I don’t think I’m but I didn’t get it. . It has to be transformed for a purpose, that’s what it is, and that’s what the judge is saying, and it’s going to bring some sanity into the appropriation world. You can comment on the original work, or you don’t copy it, or you get a license — it’s a really simple thing.”

Not surprisingly, there’s no love lost between the parties in the case. Cariou says: “I don’t think artists should be offered a different standard from anyone else. When you’re 12 years old your parents tell you “Don’t steal the candy,” and we all try to apply that rule, and if you don’t people sometimes end up in jail….To me Richard Prince is more of an art director than an artist. I think he’s a good art director, and a great thief…. I was in the room when Prince and Gagosian were deposed and they have an overwhelming sense of power. They think that they’re untouchable. Prince got away with it for 20 years, and when he got into the courtroom he was like, “What am I doing here?” What [using my work] was, at the end of the day, was a quick fix where Gagosian could make a few million and then move on to something else.”

In a ruling that should strike fear into the collective heart of artists worldwide, Richard Prince and Gagosian Galleries have failed in their defence of the case brought against them by photographer Patrick Cariou for copyright infringement (Cariou’s photo is on the far left, and Prince’s painting is on the right).

Prince acknowledged that he used at least 41 of Cariou’s photos from his publication, Yes, Rasta, as the basis for his Canal Zone series of paintings, exhibited at Gagosian’s West 24th Street branch in 2007. Echoing the case brought against Shepard Fairey by Associated Press for his use of Manny Garcia’s photo of Obama in Fairey’s now iconic Hope poster (a case that was settled earlier this month), Cariou claimed that Prince didn’t satisfy the terms of ‘fair-use’ under copyright legislation.

In summary, four main tests are applied to determine whether or not the ‘fair-use’ defence applies (the full finding is available here). The first point for consideration is whether or not the artwork is sufficiently ‘transformative’ – in the words of the presiding judge, the derivative artwork must result in something that is ‘plainly different from the original purposes for which it was created’. The precedent to which the judge referred was established in the landmark case, Rogers v. Koons, in which Jeff Koons unsuccessfully defended a similar claim made by photographer Art Rogers.

One of the other factors that came into play in the ruling is the ‘nature of the copyrighted work’, meaning that the appropriation of design work produced for commercial purposes is more likely to be covered by the ‘fair use’ defence than ‘fine’ art. Although the defendants attempted to claim that Cariou’s work was more documentary than creative, the judge rightly ruled that fine art photography is rightly protected under the copyright legislation. Cariou could also show that his own market had been substantially damaged by Prince’s appropriation of his work – although he had booked an exhibition of prints from Yes, Rasta with Manhattan dealer, Christiane Cele, she cancelled the exhibition because, according to papers lodged in the hearing, she did “not want to be seen to be capitalizing on Prince’s success and notoriety…and did not want to exhibit works which had been ‘done already’ at another gallery”.

The outcome? The defendants have been ordered to: “deliver up for impounding, destruction, or other disposition, as Plaintiff determines, all infringing copies of the photographs, including the paintings and unsold copies of the Canal Zone exhibition book, in their possession, custody, or control and all transparencies, plates, masters, tapes, films, negatives, discs and other articles for making infringing copies.” All current and future owners of Canal Zone paintings must also be informed that the artworks infringe Cariou’s copyright, and that they cannot legally be displayed.

What does this mean for artists? For one thing, best seek copyright permission before making significant use of someone else’s work in your own. Or, only make use of material that is not subject to copyright. If you find yourself getting defensive about an artist’s right to free and unrestricted expression, just give yourself a gentle reminder that the purpose of the law is to protect all artists’ moral rights – that is, the right to be acknowledged as the maker of an artwork. It’s been this way in the music industry for ages. I’m open to any rational arguments as to why the visual art world should be exempt from these laws.

This is all part of a very interesting ongoing discussion about whether or not art, and artists in particular, are above the law. This is always the question that pops up when the “art or porn” debate rears its ugly head – the Bill Henson fracas is the latest example of this. Until very recently, artists have usually been given a leave pass when it comes to laws such as defamation, pornography, and copyright. These test cases suggest that the times might be a’changing.  That this ruling has gone through in the jurisdiction that is the strongest advocate for freedom to speech is particularly telling.

(image: ‘The Art Newspaper’)

Due to my sometime association with the University of Melbourne, I suppose I have a horse of sorts in this particular race. That said, I’m not there in a permanent capacity, and have nothing to do with policy or decision making within the art history program. So take the following as you will. Of fourteen subjects offered at undergraduate level at Melbourne, two are dedicated to Australian art, which given the broad scope of the field, seems about right. After all, Melbourne University offers a degree in ‘art history’, not ‘Australian art history’. That aside, the study of Australian art is a cornerstone of the program at Melbourne. Ergo – later this year, we’ll see the publication of the Cambridge Companion to Australian Art, edited by Professor Jaynie Anderson, who is also currently furiously lobbying to secure the establishment of the Australian Institute of Art History (**blatant self interest proclamation – I’m the administrative assistant for the initiative to establish the AIAH**).

The other thing to bear in mind when considering McWilliam’s opinion piece is that Australian art is, rightly, included in a good number of the subjects that cover general art theory, but don’t necessarily include the word ‘Australian’ in their titles –  ’Art, Market and Methods’, and ‘Art History: Theory and Controversy’, for example, are two subjects I’ve been involved in teaching, and both include substantial examination of Australian art in a broader art historical context. So, to pass judgement on the entire Australian tertiary system based on an online survey of subjects on offer is perhaps a little perfunctory.

To satisfy student demand, it is necessary to offer as broad a selection of subjects as possible. The fact of the matter is that students don’t flock to subjects with purely Australian content as a matter of course. The ‘cultural cringe’ factor identified by McWilliam is as much, if not more, symptomatic of student choice, than it is a reflection of University policy.

That said, I experienced exactly the same problem confronting McWilliam when I was employing staff back in the dark ages when I ran Leonard Joel’s art department. I was frequently staggered by the dearth of the most basic knowledge about Australian art and major artists. But I didn’t expect that knowledge of and exposure to these artists needed to be acquired through tertiary study. What astounded me was that someone purporting to be passionate about art and art history had not spent enough time in one or more of our major public collections educating themselves, if only by osmosis, about the history of art in our own country. The lack of curiosity implicit in not absorbing some basic knowledge about our own cultural heritage always set off alarm bells for me. But I didn’t blame the tertiary system for those failings. Just the individuals concerned.

(Image: ‘Art for Dummies’, by Thomas Hoving, via Amazon.com)

Feel like a visit to the Uffizi, or a stroll down the vaulted marble corridors of the Met in New York? Well, look no further. Although there has been a degree of scepticism and suspicion about Google and its streetview technology (what privacy concerns?), the company has put it to good use for those of us seeking a High Culture (capitals used advisedly) experience on the interwebs.

Head over to the Google Art Project, and you can navigate some of the world’s greatest museums using the same bells and whistles Google uses on its streetview maps. Google and the museums in question have collaborated to produce the site in the name of access and sharing the world’s cultural wealth. It’s actually quite a lot of fun. The resolution of the pictures is a little sub-par… but still… short of flying over for a whistle-stop tour, this is a fair substitute for a bit of armchair travel. Another highlight of the site is that each museum has picked one work of art to be photographed at ludicrously high resolution. You can zoom in and see every single speck of paint and hairline crack in far more detail than you ever would if you were viewing the painting in the flesh. It’s quite a revelation. Here’s a guessing game for you – can you recognise the detail shown above? Answer below. No peeking.

(Image via Google Art Project – it’s the ‘Birth of Venus’ by Sandro Botticelli, from the Uffizi Gallery)

Direct from sell-out shows in litter strewn alleyways and shabby walls across the globe, heeeeerrree’s Banksy! The Academy are all aflutter about what to do with the street artist überstar, who may well be set to win the Oscar for best documentary for his/her hilarious film, Exit Through the Gift Shop. The film won the Oscar for best editing – according to Slashfilm, this is a good indicator of a pending victory because all but one of the most recent best documentary films were successful in that category.

So what if he/she does win? The Academy declined Banksy’s request to appear at the awards wearing a monkey mask because they feared a deluge of copy-cat party crashers. Not to mention, who’s to say that the monkey in the mask who mounts the stage to accept the award if the film does win is actually Banksy? It’s probably too late now, but perhaps the Academy could collaborate with the artist to create a one-of-a-kind monkey mask so that Banksy could stand out from the crowd of would-be Banksys. Hilarious.

Works purporting to be by Banksy, and documented on the website, www.banksy.co.uk, have been appearing around LA in recent days, including the two shown here. Mickey and Minnie – living la vida loca in LA. Heh heh. As an aside, the fate of these stencils highlights everything that’s been said before about the commodification of this art form – ironically captured so effectively in Exit Through the Gift Shop. According to an account on Slashfilm, one of the stencils has been removed and sold on eBay (video of said removal is posted on YouTube), the billboard poster has been taken down and is to be displayed in Las Vegas, and the occupants of the building upon which the third has been painted are lobbying their landlords to clean the defaced stencil and protect and preserve it. This may just be the most effective Oscar’s campaign ever – the truth of the message conveyed by Banksy’s film enacted in the streets of LA.

All of this creative activity has been fuelling the frenzied speculation about whether or not he/she’ll attend. My guess? He’ll get Shepard Fairey or Mr Brainwash (whoever he may be!? One of the theories is that HE is Banksy) to collect it on his behalf. Let’s hope I’m wrong, and that he/she – or they, for that matter – does show up in one incarnation or another. Could be the one thing that saves the annual snooze-fest that is the Academy Awards ceremony.

(Pictures via www.banksy.co.uk)

Elsewhere I’ve pondered the question of preserving and documenting street art, including the debate for and against intervention in the case of Keith Haring’s mural (here, and here). In summary, it comes down to deciding whether or not the integrity and preservation of the art object (the mural) should outweigh the value we place on defending the artist’s intention. Haring painted the mural outdoors, exposed to the elements, and did so because its impermanence/transience and eventual deterioration was an important part of the work itself. If the work is preserved or repainted, the argument goes, it undermines the artist’s message. Anyways, after a heated debate in the mid 1990s, it was decided that the best path was to treat the mural in order to halt any further deterioration. According to Dixon, the periodic maintenance that was required to extend the artwork’s life was not undertaken, resulting in further damage. It’s estimated that it will cost about $25,000 to stabilise the work, with about $1,000 annually to maintain its condition. A pittance, Mr. Baillieu, surely? How about making this your first order of business as Victoria’s new Arts Minister?

Politicians aside, fear not! Direct from its salvation of Egypt from the clutches of dictatorship, the social media revolution has joined the fight! Yes – there is a Facebook page, ‘Save the Keith Haring Mural’ with 5,334 members. Join the fight now!

As an aside, everyone seems to forget the (admittedly far more modest) Angel that Haring painted on the wall of Geelong Grammar’s Toorak campus. It was originally on the external wall of one of the Victorian-era school buildings, but after the redevelopment of the site the mural was enclosed in a central classroom in the Early Learning Centre (kindergarten, for the uninitiated). Thank the heavens on high that whoever was overseeing the renovations took it upon themselves to ensure the mural survived the extensive remodelling of the building. It is now preserved under a sheet of perspex, and is loved by teachers and children alike; a benevolent and gentle presence in a space filled by little people… and, yes, another in my long line of terrible phone photos, showing said angel, and some contributions from the kinder kids – reflections on the angel in their midst.

The room is known as ‘The Angel Room’. Not ‘Keith Haring’s Angel Room’, or ‘The Haring Room’. Just ‘The Angel Room’. It may be far removed from the artist’s vision, but in this context the artwork has assumed a new life and relevance to the people who live with it every day. It will endure in the minds of hundreds of little people, who grow into bigger people – many of who most probably don’t even know who painted the angel, or why it’s there. Which probably doesn’t really matter, one way or another. The Angel really has assumed a life of its own. When I’m feeling particularly sentimental, to me this seems to be a very good argument in favour of preserving works of art like this one.

I could be very wrong, but I like to think that Keith Haring would have approved.

(images: Keith Haring ‘Angel’, by me; Keith Haring, ‘Collingwood TAFE mural’, via ‘Save the Keith Haring Mural’ Facebook page)

Mossgreen is dispersing Melbourne-based painter Robert Doble’s collection of art, artefacts and ephemera on February 21. The sculpture formerly known as ‘Mother and Child‘, and now most likely referred to by Mossgreen staff as “that #*!*%!# piece of $#!*” was to have been the highlight of what is a very eclectic collection (have a peek at the online catalogue here). It has now been withdrawn from sale after revelations from an interested buyer that it may be a forgery. Coslovich refers to an article published in 1993 in The Independent that quotes the Henry Moore Foundation, which administers the artist’s estate; Julie Summers, deputy curator of the Foundation, says of the flood of Moore forgeries on the market: “It’s terrifying”.

Unfortunately for Robert Doble, mother-and-child compositions are the most often faked. The telltale signs of a forgery that’s been cast from an original work? The base on a forgery will be cast with the sculpture, whereas with the original, the sculpture will be attached separately to the base. Also, as the casting process causes the bronze to shrink during cooling, the forgery will be slightly smaller.

The biggest concern with this for the art world in general? These works continue to circulate. Robert Doble has indicated that he intends to give it to a friend as a 50th birthday gift. Although it’s unlikely to find its way back onto the market anytime soon, what about in ten or fifteen years or so, when all the fuss has died down? When I was at Leonard Joel, I once saw the wonderful Treena Joel (granddaughter of Leonard) write ‘FAKE’ across the back of a canvas that had been submitted for sale at Joel’s, and categorically proven to be a fake or forgery. Although I’m fairly sure that defacing someone else’s property like that could get you in trouble, I appreciate the sentiment.

In France, authorities are permitted to remove signatures from fake works of art. Here? Most of the time, they end up back in private hands only to resurface on the market in the future. That’s why I toasted the incineration of the notorious Blackman and Dickerson forgeries last year. Burn them. Burn them all!

(Image: ‘The Age’ online)

First up, the launch of the twentieth Linden Postcard Show. In the words of Director Giacomina Pradolin: ”Until someone proves differently we firmly stand by our claim that the Linden Postcard Show is the largest open entry competition which shows work in all medium in this country and possibly the entire Southern Hemisphere”. It’s unlike any exhibition you’ve ever seen before (presumptuous, I know; please forgive the hyperbole) – a huge amount of art on display, and rooms busting with people viewing the show. Not to mention, it’s St Kilda, so expect a surfeit of colour and movement. The opening is tomorrow (Sat 5 Feb) from 1-5pm, and the exhibition runs until 26 March. Linden Centre for Contemporary Arts is at 26 Acland Street, St Kilda. Oh, I’ve been roped in as one of the judges. I was also on the Board of Management for a few years – I love the place. Hence the ‘self-interest’ bit.

I won’t be at the opening itself, however. I’m dispensing with my judging duties this afternoon. Instead, I’ll be talking about art superstardom at a symposium at 1pm on Saturday at the BMW Edge at Fed Square. Closing The Gap: Indonesian Contemporary Art is being staged by MiFA to run in conjunction with its exhibition of contemporary Indonesian art. If you’ve read my ramblings on this site, you probably don’t need to hear more from me, but there are many engaging speakers coming along to have a chat – my colleague Christopher Marshall, 4A’s Aaron Seeto, Jogjakarta based conservator Christine Cocca, Indonesian artists Eko Nugroho and Entang Wiharso, and Asialink’s Sarah Bond.

UPDATE: Judging the Postcard show was surprisingly easy. The thought of choosing from 1500 entries, and then having to reach consensus with two other judges was extremely daunting. It was also a blind judging – although we could hazard a guess at who the respective artists were, we were not given the list of artists until after we’d submitted our results. Very refreshing approaching a wall with no preconceptions about the artwork you’re viewing, I must say. When we came together to compare our selections, there were hardly any pieces on our respective shortlists that did not get at least two of the three available votes. Although perhaps our decision caused the gods displeasure. Then again, it could have been the 80s fashioning of dance troupe, Bodyelectric, which entertained the crowds at the collectors’ preview last night. Either way, the heavens opened. Below is a view of Acland Street outside Linden last night. Apocalyptic!

It was telling that, upon arrival, the crowds of people hovering around the crates of freshly-shucked Tassie oysters and glittering flutes of Moorilla bubbles on the grassed area outside the entrance to the museum were not as dense as might have been expected. This had nothing to do with the number of attendees, or the quality of the culinary offerings, and everything to do with the fact that no-one wanted to waste too much time hanging around outside. This despite the fact that MONA has what must be the most impressive geographic setting of any museum in the country, located as it is upon a steep-sided promontory that juts into the Derwent River. The views from the rooftop of the museum are positively bucolic.

Entrance to the gallery is via an unprepossessing opening in a long wall of reflective silver panels. This opens out into a foyer that is part of the original Roy Grounds-designed building in which David Walsh housed his collection in its earlier incarnation. After picking up one of the much anticipated ‘O’ guides – basically an adapted iTouch apparatus (no doubt the techies will wince at that description) – and receiving a cheerful explanation of its myriad capabilities from a gallery staff member, we tossed back a couple of hors d’oeuvres (shaved scallops – who knew they had hair? – with yummy bits, and a crunchy salad  in a cone. Apologies to non-gourmands. This will not be the last mention of food in these posts), and headed to the staircase to descend into the depths, past rough-hewn sandstone that manages to speak simultaneously of Tasmania’s convict past, and an ancient mausoleum – the beehive tombs at Mycenae, or the shaft of Cheops’ Pyramid at Gizeh. Water leaches in sheets down these walls. I can’t wait for them to discolour the stone. This is a living space – it felt as if I were burrowing down into the honeycomb caverns at Lascaux. The iron, spiral staircase, infinite spaces and maze of hidden rooms are the bastard child of Piranesi’s imaginary prisons, and Leonardo’s Memory Cathedral.

But before we talk about the inside, a bit about the exterior. Despite the scale of this project, the overwhelming impression conveyed by the building’s monolithic architecture is, paradoxically, one of introspection. Most commonly, when humankind decides to chop into the earth to create a structure –  the city of Petra in Jordan, or Queen Hatshepsut’s temple in Egypt (pictured at left) spring to mind (betraying my background in archaeology here) – the built environment dominates the natural environment. The structure emerges from – thrusts out of – the geology with a kinetic energy. Although the Nonda Katsalidis-designed building at MONA is massive, it doesn’t project forward. Rather, it seems to slump into the side of the cliff into which it’s carved. It snuggles into the rock – the building almost looks as if it’s attempting to retreat to the the cracks and crevices of the ancient cliff.  The same message is communicated by the mirrored panels at the entrance  -  the museum is trying to disguise itself; to disappear by reflecting its surroundings back at the visitor. Despite what you may expect, it’s a surprisingly shy and retiring edifice. If that’s possible for something so enormous.

As to the overall exhibition design, it’s nothing short of groundbreaking. Perhaps without realising, we’ve become accustomed to being ‘directed’ around museum displays. Crowd movement studies dictate where signage, carefully placed podiums and benchseats are placed, designed to keep the crowd moving in a prearranged, orderly and choreographed flow. Objects are placed within this schema so as to be ‘read’ by the visitor as a linear narrative. ‘Hero’ artworks are positioned in key locations. Start here… move to there… now look at this… read that… sit here… and finish there. Then, exit through the gift shop (with apologies to Banksy).

At MONA, there is no clear path through the space. Quite the contrary – it would be very easy to miss seeing things. Important things. Objects are hidden – embedded – within the exhibition space. If Jane Clark hadn’t asked me what I thought about the ‘Sex and Death’ gallery, I might not have found it, located as it is in an anteroom leading from the gallery that houses Rafael Lozano-Hemmer’s installation. There is no signage, and no direction or expectation that you should, or must, go anywhere or see anything in particular. And it is unbelievably refreshing to experience. You wander, and backtrack in a vaguely shambolic fashion, and discover new doors, rooms and alcoves each pass.

This heralds a new museological democracy. Or anarchy, perhaps. The information is there and available if you want it (via the ‘O’ devices – curatorial texts are dubbed ‘artwank’ in subversive reference to the ‘onanism’ referred to in the opening exhibition title, ‘MONAism’). But there is no hovering curatorial intervention telling you how or what to think about particular objects or interfaces. The spectator’s approach to an artwork is not prefaced by a prescriptive label that implants information and inevitably affects how the viewer will perceive and understand that artwork. It’s often thought that it’s crucial to provide information to infrequent museum visitors so that if they desire to interact closely with what might otherwise be an obscure form of visual expression, they’re provided with a lexicon that enables them to understand an artwork. It’s all about access. But  wall labels must surely alienate many visitors to contemporary art museums, jargon-laden as they so often are.

This won’t be a problem at MONA. It was unbelievably liberating to stand in front of an artwork without the jumble of information just absorbed from the wall text filling my mind. Public museums don’t have this luxury. To justify their public subsidies, they’re compelled to satisfy government expectations about providing access and education to taxpayers. But David Walsh doesn’t have to answer to anyone. Ironically, although he may be thumbing his nose at established curatorial practices, the way he’s showing art down there on the banks of the Derwent might just be establishing a new benchmark for showing contemporary art to people who would otherwise shy away from visiting contemporary art spaces. Given the art on show, and all that’s been said about the project in the lead up to the opening, it’s a surprisingly accessible space. It’s not perfect, and there are some very tetchy spots in the show. But it all feels so overwhelmingly human. Which makes the scrappy parts all the more forgivable.

Were you there? What do you think?

More to follow.