In which I go “GRRR!”
Given the millions of pics taken of the coat hanger in any given year, I was pretty bloody proud of myself. I also received the princely publication fee (from a national glossy) of four bucks. (Don’t forget, they were notes in those days, Virginia. Paper, not polymer! They went a long way... well, for a teen. Okay, it sucked. But it was the first step on the road to becoming a pro. And the buck it cost to get to the building’s ‘skywalk’ was a deduction, right?)
Later the same year, two of my photographs appeared in a lavish year book with a print run in the thousands, used without permission, credit or payment. Only the sportsmen in the photographs were credited.
I drive some of my friends spare with my ‘quaint’ ideas about intellectual property and, gasp, copyright. How second millennium of me. But the count of my photographs that have been knocked off -- and we’re not just talking web sites, here, we’re talking reputable newspapers and magazines -- now exceeds the number that I’ve been credited for, let alone paid for.
Incredibly, the last culprit was The Age which ran a unique portrait of mine without permission, credit or payment. That’s especially galling cos I’ve had photographs published in the Aged -- and been handsomely paid for them -- as far back as 1994. I’ve also had a couple in the Financial Review, also in the Fairfax stable. So, they can’t say they don’t know me.
These days, I embed clear copyright messages like “All rights reserved” and include my name and contact information in EXIF data so that images that have done the rounds on-line, for example, can still be tracked back to me. (Nowadays, thanks to the new “drag and drop” Google image search, it’s massively easier to track down the provenance of a photograph... and, indeed, to see who is using one.) (My pic of French actress Romaine Bohringer is popular.)
This week, a photograph of mine of a “notoriously unphotographable” subject appears on the Wheeler Centre’s web site next to an article of his. (And, no, he wouldn’t nick a photograph of mine without asking; in fact, he likes to keep a low profile and would prefer the secret of his true identity -- his face, at the very least -- be hidden. He writes: “there’s only ever about three photos taken of me a year and I always look crap in them. Hang on, that probably explains why there’s only three photos of me a year...”)
It’s a great shot if I say so myself. I wouldn’t call it a unique shot. But it’s one of the few around A.M. can stomach. It’s made absolutely clear in a Wheeler Centre tweet [July 31, 11:23AM] that they know I took the photograph, which they purloined from Facebook. So why the hell wasn’t I asked?
I’ve gotta say, I’m just tempted to send in a nasty-ass invoice. Grrr.