The title of this blog post is rather academic, but I got so complacent after thinking of the cat and dog bit that I couldn’t think of anything more exciting for the bit after the colon.
This is a long one, but this is my blog, so I won’t apologise or demean it by calling it a ‘rant.’ You might find it interesting. Or you might just think it’s a rant. ;))
After this I’ll post more pics from my US trip and also from Focus On Imaging. I just wanted to post this first.
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Recently an artist on Flickr, Rosie Hardy, was discovered to have plagiarised other artists in her work. A character called ‘Harry NY’ appeared on Flickr, posting the images in question side by side with the originals from the artists whose work Rosie Hardy had copied. The originals had been found in Rosie’s own favourites on DeviantArt, so her initial claims to have ‘never seen the images before’ were futile. After Harry had his account removed several times, he resorted to posting the images on a blog which you can view here.
People started discussion threads on Flickr such as here and here, in discussing whether they agreed that Rosie had plagiarised other artists or whether it was the age-old debate of artist originality at hand. In many people’s view, Rosie did plagiarise other artists in these pieces, and it is made even more serious by the fact that she sells her work.
People waited to hear what Rosie would do and whether she would apologise. And eventually she did, on an upload entitled rock bottom, where she said sorry for ‘not giving artist credit’, a little vaguely, before deviating to discussion on other areas of her present emotional disposition. She wrote that she was going to take a break from Flickr, which invited an inevitable stream of well-wishers, most of whom did not even recognise the issue at hand - that Rosie had plagiarised other people’s work, and that she had fooled them into thinking all her ideas were as ‘original’ as her website sales pitch says. On her return, as expected, she was inundated with ‘welcome back’ messages, from people professing they’d missed her, even though the time she’d been gone wasn’t different from the duration between her uploads anyway.
People on Flickr love a story, love drama, love having a god, especially if that god can also be an underdog. (Maybe we can coin the term ‘undergods’?) The apology itself was enough for most of Rosie’s fans, the word ‘sorry’ was enough for them to completely skirt over, well, whatever Rosie had done wrong. Naysayers were shunned by Rosie’s hardcore fans on the strength of the fact that ‘Rosie has apologised’. Nothing more need be said.
Surely the whole point of an apology is that you have aimed to correct what you’ve done wrong, and to be open about the faults so that you give the impression you won’t do it again? The reason why Rosie’s apology meant little to her more cynical viewers was because she didn’t actually put things right. Being in such a spotlight on Flickr unfortunately brings responsibilities with it. Yet Rosie has only made about half of the images in question ‘private’ on her Flickr stream, and left others just as they were, with no credit whatsoever. So, the ‘lesson’ she professed to have learnt was unclear. Surely it would be appropriate to turn off comments (and those notes) on her apology upload, and surely any apology should be aimed at the plagiarised artists she fobbed off, not a love-in mosh pit of teenyboppers?
Before I am in danger of sounding petty, I’ll explain what this boils down to, for me. This is not just about Rosie, this happening has merely raised an issue. What actually bothers me most of all is the significance of people’s reactions to plagiarism on Flickr – people’s ignorance of an important issue, by Rosie setting a sallow example. Rosie is indeed only young (18) qhich makes it more understandable that she should have the chance put it right for the future; but does not make her instantly forgivable - everyone who goes to school is taught not to cheat, and at college and university level, the rules against plagiarism are hammered home.
If people are not trying to claim that Rosie didn’t plagiarise, that she just took inspiration – “it’s hard thinking of an idea every day of a 365!” (as if being over-ambitious about one’s artistic resolutions is a valid excuse for ripping off other people’s work), they are almost backing plagiarism, which is even more disturbing. Laidback types appear mid-discussions to mystically guffaw out-of-content quotations as ‘good artists copy, great artists steal, said Picasso’. I was equally stunned by the sentiment of someone’s pro-Rosie image on Flickr called ‘copycat’, where the person emulated one of the offending images of Rosie’s, similarly using handprints on a wall. The person argued against Rosie being plagiaristic and insisted Rosie had put her own spin on the images, and that no-one could possibly patent handprints – which of course was never anyone’s point, Rosie had taken more than the handprint element of the original image, she had replicated the components around it, the standing person with the garment drawn over their face, etc. Although the woman’s ‘copycat’ image was hardly third-level plagiarism, it was strange to encounter her pleasure in copying the handprints to produce what seemed like a self-professed celebration of unoriginality.
It isn’t all too bad. The strong bustle of people who believe that Rosie plagiarised, and that plagiarism is wrong, haven’t been too shortcoming in their involvement in discussions, even on Rosie’s own photostream. Rosie thankfully doesn’t delete all critics’ input, so there’s a mixture of opinion going on. Some have said that the whole debacle has only served to further bolster Rosie’s popularity. However, it’s Rosie’s generally young fanbase who don’t see anything wrong, who are too enamoured by the ARF love story, who are suckered into some kind of American dream conjured up in the works of the transatlantic coupling. These are the people who, I say this in the nicest way, are never going to be Rosie’s clients, and whose opinions therefore, in a professional sense as a photographer wanting to make a living, are important only if you can make a quid from every fluffy comment you get from the Twilight-loving demographic. However, these are people who are might go on to plagiarise other artists in the future - me or you, even, whether in amateur or professional work. Not all ‘artists’ are intelligent and trustworthy enough to know the meaning of plagiarism, I guess there are many who just want to make a living under that title. I learnt a year or two ago of an ‘artist’ in San Francisco who was painting my photos stroke-for-stroke and claiming it to be all her own work. My confrontation of her came as no legal threat but I hopefully brought for her, and the gallery, alot of embarrassment.
One motive in speaking openly about someone else’s saga on my blog is to try and counteract the lax attitude towards plagiarism, that you can take what you want from anyone’s work, physically or conceptually. However, this essay wasn’t supposed to be all about Rosie Hardy, so where does this take me in my rambling? To the topic of Flickr itself. Flickr: a democracy. When I first discovered it, loved it. Upload what you want, when you want. (Of course, if you’ve got your tits out, make sure you slap a content filter onto it. If you get moderated, don’t expect a reply from staff until the next leap year.) What ensued was a love-hate relationship over three years as I started to become more aware of how and why I use it. Recently, started questioning the way I rely on it for self-esteem as an artist. The sight of all those buddy icons, even the ones on my own stream, waving superlatives, glitzy icons. The obsession with getting into ‘Explore’ when it’s full of kittens, sunsets, babies, and another fucking flower. A place accessible by anyone’s old tired clichés, a place where ideas get pilfered like apples off a cart and bounced around like milk bottles on recycling day, and in the case of Rosie Hardy, a place where you should question no-one, unless you want to be told ‘you are Hitler’ (yes, that really happened).
So, where does one go when one is cheesed off with Flickr? Well, there’s a site called Onexposure, that a friend told me about the other day over tea and scones. You sign up for an account, and submit a picture for ‘screening’ before it can appear on the site. So as opposed to free access as on sites like Flickr, on Onexposure you have a set of bespectacled experts on the door. My friend said his intrigue in first discovering the site was actually further sustained by the fact that his first submission had been rejected. On what grounds? Overprocessed. Uh-oh, probably no good for me then, but I checked it out when I got home, and selected a picture from my portfolio to submit. Even though there are categories for ‘Creative Edit’ and ‘Illustrative’, to start with I purposely chose one that wasn’t one of the more heavily-processed images (leaving the clones well alone). I decided to choose ‘Girl dreaming’, which I think is one of my strongest images - popular on Flickr, the frontispiece to my camara oscura exhibition in Madrid, and now framed large on sale in the window of Impure Art in Brighton. Importantly for this purpose, it’s one of my more natural pieces, at least, it doesn’t look as if too much unnecessary processing has been done:

It was rejected!
“Of those who voted against your image, three indicated that there is a problem with editing, three noted story as a weakness, and two selected composition as a reason for not publishing the image.”
“I think the window draws me too much away from the subject. A crop could help. Dreaming?”
“I think it could be better whith [sic] a softer and cooler attitude of your model. Here, she seems to be suffering. It’s a pity, light, composition and treatment are very good…”
I’ll give you “it’s a pity!”
The notion of being rejected was made even sourer on reading the lame feedback, comments that related to people’s own personal taste more than anything. Someone thinks the model should be ‘cooler’. Someone thinks she looks like she’s suffering. Someone doesn’t understand or like the title. Someone thinks it should be cropped.
Maybe I should have put the Balthus shpiel with it, so people had more of an idea what was going on with my intent, and the title.
But I don’t give two turds what these random ‘someones’ think. In the same vein, I don’t upload to Flickr, generally, for constructive feedback, mainly because I don’t want anonymous tutoring (unless I ask for it). If I want to learn, I’ll go to someone I know and can trust, preferably face to face. At the same time, I don’t believe that it’s only people who are artistically ‘qualified’, by profession, degree or otherwise, whose opinion is valid. I do like the fact that on Flickr, indeed all across the net, everyone CAN have a say. Maybe I’m not always comfortable with the fact that everyone DOES have a say! ;)) Yet this website with its screening process makes me sick. It makes me sick because I look at the pictures already on the site and most of them do nothing for me, but a panel of people assume the right to judge other people’s work and deem it suitable, or not, for others to view. The site admits to favouring less processed images. In the manner of the snobbiest gallery, the attitude that assumes that the processing age began with the Photoshop age, the site demands a particular style, leaning toward the photojournalistic, the dark, brooding, fine wine of photography. The stuff that bores me to tears, basically… my advice to my friend? Go somewhere else, don’t wait for this particular elite to like your work, to see it as their brand of ‘quality’.
I hate being judged. It’s mainly why I didn’t continue Art post A-level. It’s why I’m not massively inclined to enter competitions. It’s why I hated Picture This, with its panel of super-dooper experts. It’s why my passion for photography started when I buggered off behind locked doors and across A-roads to deserted places with a camera to snap pictures completely by myself, of myself. And it’s why I love Flickr, and hence why I wouldn’t want to use a site like Onexposure. I’ll probably submit another picture next week to see how it does, just out of interest. Or maybe not.
The values of a site like Onexposure to me reek of traditional routes into art, of art teachers, at the opposite end of the spectrum from the complete user-control offered by Flickr, but does it have to be so black and white? I’ve certainly noticed that there are different areas within Flickr, as if it were a marketplace with everything from organic cheeses to £1 bags of sweets. People of different types congregate in different areas, within the one vast site. You do have a vestige of control, as the uploading artist, in determining what kind of crowd you maintain, although everyone’s bound to get a troll or two passing by.
I once dropped into a manipulation-debate on Rosie’s stream, with a friendly comment, but one that undermined her audience. I got an email of appreciation from Rosie, but for fellow commenters, my words came like bird poo on a huddled ceremony of Year 7s at a school gate. I spent a good while extracting myself with the aid of some emoticons and gestures of goodwill, breathed a ‘phew’ and reflected interestingly on my own audience. By comparison a lot of them seem somewhat smarter, though I still have my share of sycophants. Another thing that reinforces my belief in the value of the Flickr community is that I have met good friends though the site, some still virtual, some I have had the pleasure of meeting in real life - Lara Jade, Ilina S, Reflecting truth (Katie Lee), and Haggis Chick to name a few. And the Female Self-Portrait Artists’ Group is the best thing since sliced bread.
Maybe I just need to try out a few more photo-sharing sites to discern their differences over one another, to satisfy the part of me that’s uncomfortable with the ego element of Flickr. I have a feeling however that Flickr will remain top of the bookmarks, especially with a cosy figurative treehouse like this blog, branching out from it as a private retreat.