All Rise Against the Entropy

There is a blind man on the TTC, asking for help. I didn’t see him initially; I heard him rhythmically asking “please help me”, which I thought was better than asking for change. It resonated. I needed help too. In general, for survival I needed help. We all do. It’s tough out there. Maybe if I help him someone would help me, or even better, maybe the whole wide universe itself would. When the repeating plea got closer, I turned around and saw that he was blind, finding his way through the crowd with a white mobility cane. In the space between us, there was a tall passenger–male-looking–who as I turned raised his voice to the person next to him “did you just push the blind?”. I dig in my bag and find a $5 bill. I rarely have cash on me; it’s left over for buying drugs earlier that week. Dealers never accept charges or transfers. Cash is king. I place the bill on top of the coins in the blind man’s palm, and immediately think that he is probably hoping it’s more than $5. “Thank you very much, Miss!”, he mumbled in between his repetitive mantra, and kept going–unphased. “Did he say Miss?”, the tall passenger rhetorically asked in a lower tone, then rolled his eyes while throwing his arm up “oh well the whole world is fucked-up”.

Holding a decent cup of coffee, and an iPhone, I nod and look down at my worn out sneakers. I like that they are worn out; it’s part of the outfit. 

I have to have hope that the whole world isn’t fucked up. To be able to go on, have motivation, I require hope. I need it to not jump out of a window; leave a mess. If the world is more fucked-up than when, for example, the Nanjin Massare happened, then there is no hope to go on in life. If we are devolving, let’s stop. Let’s end it. Why proceed any further? I have to have hope that we are learning. Even as a misanthrope, I have to have hope that increment by increment everything, inclusive of humans, is going away from the fucked-up. I hope that, at molecule levels, at least, we are transmuting the fucked-upness. I have to have hope. In fact, I have hope. I have hope that life is meaningful. I have hope that as a collective, we are evolving towards light. I have hope that love is light, and will win over fear eventually. I have hope that humanity is becoming less and less self-centred, Ego-driven. I have hope that we are healing generational traumas. I have hope that–someday–I’d truly see myself, and I hope that it would be worth the tumultuous path, the growing pains, the lessons, the Sirat. I hope that ultimately, along the way,  I will love everyone and everything–-despite our proximity. Before that though, I hope that I show those who are close that I love them. Some of them have doubts because selfishly they want to see effort, and I selfishly don’t have time. I hope I have enough time to finish my book. My immediate circle consumes my hours. But, I hope that I finish my book and convince my friends–those outside of my immediate circle–understand that I love them energetically. I think of them. They are in my prayers. When they need help in life, I hope that they reach out to me. I have hope that people help people. I have hope that we are evolving together against the chaos, against the entropy, towards the less-fucked-upness. Lie less to heal our fears. I have to have hope that the blind was not deceitful in his plea, but even if he was, even if the whole act was a performance, his sentiment remains true; it’s honest: Help me.  

Unconstrained

The Paradox of Limitless Creativity & Limited Protection

Written by: Saba Samanian, B.Comm, J.D

The curator's mind is always curious: thinking, creating, and weaving a narrative. Historically, she (or he) has been a keeper of cultural heritage, today a content specialist. 

Their medium, such as an exhibition, is a result of knowledge and the distinct ability to tell a compelling story—one that transcends cultural barriers and unites inquisitive minds. It is a complex and detailed tale that can only be born and nurtured in the mind of a curator. The concept, which is capable of various interpretations, is presented to the audience with often factual information, sometimes personal anecdotes, and always include representations: art, artifacts, immersive experiences, etc. Audiences travel around the globe to witness the outcome of this process. However, my legally trained mind cannot help but wonder what is the core of the legal protections offered to curators in return for their efforts? 

Canadian Copyright Law offers artists, writers, choreographers, and other creators protection to disseminate their creative works to the public. It is well-established law that this protection is based not on the idea itself, which cannot be protected, but rather on the fixation of that idea. The case, Canadian Admiral Corp v Rediffusion Inc., has taught us that there must be "something definite and ascertainable to protect.". While this concept has certainly not been free of considerable debate, artists can find comfort in the fact that putting their imaginative, complex, and beautiful ideas into tangible mediums opens the door for legal protection. 

Yet, curators may find less comfort. The narrative told by them is intangible; it does not have a fixed form: the way the audience walks through the spaces of a museum or gallery to experience a wave of emotions, or the strategic placement of an artifact that accurately reflects its place in history. Thus, the work product of a curator simply cannot be reduced to an object; it is alive. 

In Canada, "copyright" refers to the bundle of rights conferred by the Copyright Act (the Act) on the copyright owner and author of a work. The copyright owner has the sole right to produce or reproduce a work (or a substantial part of it) in any form and the exclusive right to exhibit the work in public. Copyright protects literary, artistic, dramatic, or musical works and other subject matter, including performer's performances, sound recordings, and communication signals. If a piece is unpublished, copyright includes the right to publish the work or any substantial part of it. 

Furthermore, "copyright" applies to all original artistic works, such as paintings, drawings, maps, photographs, designs, musical compositions, sculptures, and plans, provided the conditions set out in the Act have been met, namely: 

1. work must be original, in that it involves some intellectual effort or skill; 

2. the author was at the date of making the work a citizen of, or a person ordinarily resident in, Canada.

While the work of a curator can reasonably meet these two conditions, it isn't easy to neatly fit their work product into one of the buckets mentioned above that qualifies the work for protection. 

So, I cannot help but wonder: Are curators the forgotten child of our intellectual property regime? Do they live in the shadows, despite their undeniably meaningful contribution to propel art and culture forward?

Our legal system has contemplated such scenarios, albeit indirectly. Additionally, legislation is often being debated and, at times, updated. If you are a curator, artist, architect, or interested in knowing more about legal protection, contact us at the Curatorial Agency. We will be able to provide information and help you understand the nuances of the legal system when it comes to your work.