I have been a photographer for four years now, and throughout that time I am always learning. Part of that education is around copyright, and how to protect my work. The collage above is a brief representation of some of the ways my photography has been stolen. Some were edited without permission, event advertisements, included in a calendar, manipulated to advertise jewelry, sold on canvas, for promoting a cosmetic brand, or even for music videos.
During my career as the Perverted Art Thief Hunter I have encountered various plagiarists. I dont consider myself to be an uber N00B killer (Hell, it takes more than just one person to get the scum banned! So, teamwork, teamwork, teamwork!), but Im no newbie. And Id like to share my experience with you.
Why? Some of you may find this essay simply amusing. Some may want to use it as a tutorial. Or just to compare my stories with their own. But lets not focus on the introduction, and cut to the chase, shall we?
TYPICAL ART THIEF LINES (and what do I think about them)
Youre just jealous!
Yes, I am Of the original artists talent, not some low wannabe, who doesnt even try to lift up a pencil.
Its not mine! My brother/sister/cousin/friend/whatever made it!
In that case I suggest your brother/sister/cousin/friend/whatever get their own account.
Stunning, the message
Outrageous to the knowing
Superb, the technique
Hilarious to the informed
Master of his Art
Gas-choked rivers glow from everburning flames.
The air of sulfur and hydrocarbon cocktail
Lead in the food, lead in the water
All is gray and black and fiery oranges, yellows, and reds of blood and flame alike.
Pacifists pushing for change
Sawed to pieces by automatic weapons
Or strung over a bar by a rope
Native creatures and plants rotting in piles of soiled compost and char and settled smoke.
Where plants till can grow foreign noxious plants thrive and animals infest.
A stench of death and smoke and gas and pain and gas and blood and gas as it chokes.
The leaves fall like embers and I am
and swallow the falsehoods that make my tongue
so swollen. share with me this bitter mocha,
it's our last date: dark chocolate with
whipped cream and cinnamon on top.
the elixir lends color to your
pallid face and worthless eyes.
humans, we are low and vulgar, you say,
because we kiss with our eyes open.
my tongue remains swollen
from all the lies i told you,
that quiver shawlless and ebbing
in the yellow air like tagged machetes:
the feverish promise i gave you,
failed to see through, then rebuked.
but these waters were always salted, pirated
by angels, contaminated by the tears they cried
when we pulled apart. out on the pier
i think i see your face dissolved into the ocean.
i think i see the rag doll savages gasping herb
breaths, bestowing you with medicinal apologies.
they shouldn't be here; i could've fixed your
churning shoulders. the low pressure system passes
and the ocean swells, ending our vow to hold eternity.
Slipping into the alleyway, he stilled and waited. The sounds of pursuit grew in volume again and moments later the score or so of city guards that were on his tail passed over him. When they were gone Arthur let out a breath and checked the bandages around his middle. They were dirty with blood and a small amount of sweat. He'd have to change them soon, if he managed to get out of this blasted city. But he had his prize, he thought triumphantly as he touched the sack on his belt.
There was a rustle behind him and he whirled around, drawing hi