Most of us don't need to be told this. We understand that it is cheating. Immoral. Illegal.
I have read good articles by artists whose work has been copied and used by someone else without permission. It's easy to understand the outrage of the person who is the victim of theft. You will want to read this article, an excellent example of how an artist discovered the theft and what she did about it. "This is a Post About Plagiarism" by Sarah Moon on her blog "Clear Eyes, Full Shelves."
My work has not been stolen. But, I still feel passionately about the issue. I believe that artists and art groups have an obligation to hold one another accountable and to hold one another to the highest standards of professional practice and ethics. From my standpoint, when artists do nothing about a copyist in their group, they are saying, in effect, that it is okay with them. When they hang in art shows with that copyist, they are endorsing that person as a respected peer.
My grandmother used to say, "You are known by the company you keep."
What would you do if you discovered an art friend copying artwork and passing it off as his/her own? Have you had any experience with this issue in a personal way?
Nobody heard him, the dead man, But still he lay moaning: I was much further out than you thought And not waving but drowning. Poor chap, he always loved larking And now he's dead It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way, They said. Oh, no no no, it was too cold always (Still the dead one lay moaning) I was much too far out all my life And not waving but drowning.
Stevie Smith
Not Waving, 22 x 22, acrylic on BFK
Vividly, I recall how the early morning fishermen looked on as I struggled in the cold water. The dock was too high to reach without kicking my feet hard to propel myself up and reach my hands onto the boards. But, with water at about 50 degrees, the cold leached my strength at an alarming rate. I felt my limbs grow numb and weak as my core demanded my heat. Holding on to the dock was too difficult. The ladder was disabled. The fishermen looked at me, in the cold water, and watched.
Four years after that experience, I still think about it. I almost drowned. Without the help of my friend, Angie, and the Coast Guard and other emergency services in Bremerton, I would have died. But, I survived. And I can safely let those memories and my thoughts about the experience rise up for consideration.
Today, I am thinking about how the fishermen were spectators to my struggle, but were in no way involved in helping me. I wonder if we are becoming more and more comfortable with spectating and less and less involved in what is real and meaningful. Watching life instead of doing. Maybe we get too much practice watching (television, sports, games, movies, computers) and not enough practice doing.
I love to swim and my experience did not dampen that love. This year, though, I have signed up to take swimming lessons to become a better swimmer. The classes will focus on perfecting my form on various strokes. In the comfort of a pool heated to 80 degrees! I want to face boating season as an even stronger swimmer. And, I hope I won't ever need it!
It seems like with all things creative, sure death is accomplished with predictability and doing things the same way.
At Hipbone Studios this week, during the 30 minute poses, I pulled out a tiny travel set of watercolors and did this little painting. Charcoal drawing made the paint muddy, and next time I may use graphite instead of charcoal, but overall I like how this one turned out. And I feel my creative juices bubbling again. How do you keep your creative juices going?
