Twenty Seven
Sometimes you need to clean out the trash.
It is hard to believe the bubbling spring that provided my work for so many years has pretty much dried up. Baffling, it really had little to do with my execution. I did the promotion, networked, granted not as diligently or wide spread as before, but after 30 years established in a community you would think it would be a tad easier. I kept in contact and searched for new avenues to open doors. Those doors had changed colors and the locks on them were definitely not meant for me to open.
Now in the 27th week of retirement I reflect on how angry I was
with the changes in the business atmosphere the last 2 years.
I prided myself in adapting from the analog world of darkrooms, film, and manual generation of imagery to tiptoeing through the bleeding edge mine field of digital cameras then into the full swing of today’s automatic point and shoot wonders. Finally, the phone that crushed the cash cow. We did just fine through the pandemic, even thrived. Then the wheels came off.
Now any and everyone can create a decent image. Bam, many image makers became irrelevant. Sure, you can survive, but the bulk of
what was created by craftspeople is now auto or AI. Sound familiar?
The “Work for Hire” contract. The demise of “US.”
In the last of days, I was angrier at the Corporations than ever before. Always the gorilla in the room. They moved to a whole different level of shithead. The greed and down right disregard for creatives and the incredible impact we had in growing their business has been eroded and smeared so badly I don’t think it will ever be repaired. To put is lightly, they are fucked!
I remember sitting on a zoom meeting with a client and a young lawyer (we will refrain from recognizing personality indicators because it mattered, alas I would be digressing into politically incorrect territory, come to think, it really didn’t matter) discussing the new fangled stripping of ownership and copyright from imagemakers. Our creations are kindly referred to now as “SOW.” (Scope of Work)
That meeting ended with me asking the young barrister if they would sign this if it meant they would have to cut off their hands and they couldn’t feed themself. They quietly responded no, that would not be in my best interest. Right!! WTF? This was a worldwide beverage icon and they simply did not give a fuck about anyone but themselves.
Good morning, Worm your honour
The crown will plainly show the prisoner
Who now stands before you
Was caught red-handed, showing feelings
Showing feelings of an almost human nature
This will not do.***
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Basically it is this. You create it, they own it, you CANnot use it for ANYTHING! Yes, you are a freelancer and your income generation relies on other companies knowing what you have done in the industry. Plain and simple.
I mean, you blast into a rare face to face meeting with the head creative guru to show them your latest and greatest wares. It happens to be a campaign of gorgeous Instagram reels featuring the new “Super Max AI Dildos.” Mind them, it is your best shit so far and it is exactly what the ever so informative lawyer at the French icon told you to do. (Show your best, it doesn’t need to be related) The cadre of 20–40 year old Gen F’s are a fairly conservative bunch of wine industry minions, they are used to blowing their winespeak jargon in text bubbles around a room of people nodding, slurping and spitting. They are certainly perplexed, if not offended. They ask, politely of course, “Do you have anything industry specific?” HA!
In this well thought out arrangement meant to provide you a living wage, you are not an employee, they don’t pay your taxes, or give you benefits. You are a piece of debris floating in the sea to them. You are required to create what their minions burp up in those, can we just do it 2 ways, industry specific thought domes? It will just take a few more minutes, you can fix that in post right. Let’s see, I am not sure about that. Hmmm, something is not right, can we go back to the first background.
You get a meager few pennies and because now they control your creative work. You don’t get credit, you can’t use it on your website, in your portfolio or in promo materials because you would be gaining personal recognition on the shoulders of their brand image you just created!
You can’t even sell outtakes, the blanket contract basically tells you that they own you and your mind, down to any previous copyrights, techniques or manipulations you invented to make the creations awesome. It is bullshit.
Having done a small amount of stuff for a client that ran articles in the Wall St Journal, I received a PDF of their updated contract. Oh boy! They want it all. Full buyout, this doesn’t mean extra pay, no way, just your base pay. A News or content creative always relies on reselling those images to other networks. WSJ doesn’t pay for shit. They will give credit, you can’t live on credits. It is the corporation that is the demise of capitalism.
The “Rant” will end soon, I promise.
Think of the last time you wandered into a Mom and Pop store, that still exists. You felt at home. This is what was and probably will never be again. It is a shame. I hate it!.
Oh yes, it is week 27, 28 is gonna be better. See. Rant over, well, almost.
In my nest I sharpened my 100 year old hand planes, hone my chisels to a scalpel’s edge. I am preparing to make a small keepsake box for my daughter. It was a joy to see the tool perform as it was intended after so long in service. I looked over at the modern drill that just took a shit in the middle of my project and spy the 80 year old brace that picked up the slack and finished the job.
The make it to break it attitude so they can make more money on fixing or just replacing the whole thing is killing our world. Enough of 27. I think I will go make some tea. Settle the nerves.
*** Lyrics credit to Pink Floyd. Song, The Trial 1979.
