My fine art education was hardly a vocational one. I learned crucial art-making skills in university, but almost no business know-how. Though I painted portraits of my professors for my thesis project, not one of them (mostly working artists themselves) mentioned that I might have them sign model releases. This curious lack of instruction was one which I lived to regret!
After Critics Critique opened, I received a phone call from an assistant at one of the galleries whose owner I’d painted (let’s call the dealer X). X’s lackey informed me that if I wished to publish my portrait of X, I needed permission from the gallery. She explained that all images of X had to be cleared and that even the press had to submit their photos for review. At this point, I had already published an image of X’s portrait on my website. I guessed that X had discovered this and wanted it removed because X didn’t like the painting.
I was utterly flabbergasted, so I did the only thing I could think to do. I told X’s assistant that the portrait was my image and that I could do whatever I pleased with it. Then I hung up the phone without the usual courtesies and went directly to a local university’s law library where I spent the afternoon learning about my rights to my images.
In general, an artist is sole owner of the copyright of the work she-he creates from the moment she-he begins creating it. Of course, this simple law is complicated by the fact that I was clearly representing X in the painting and that I’d even titled the painting X. The subject of a portrait (painted or photographic) has some rights to images of her-him self. As a rule, an artist should have the subject sign a model release, a document in which the subject acknowledges that the artist now has limited rights to the subject’s image as well. And the artist should, of course, get the release signed before making the portrait. Details, details!
I read on, though, and discovered that public figures have less rights to their images than private citizens. I promptly convinced myself that X could, with some imagination, be considered a public figure.
And in the end, I decided that X wouldn’t be stupid enough to have her money-making-machine gallery came after a young starving artist. That would be calling more attention to the image than if X simply left me alone.
I concluded that X must have been trying to intimidate me into making the painting disappear. Instead, X’s behavior insured two things: 1) that the painting will remain published for as long as I have a website, and 2) I will always have my subjects sign model release forms!
The form that I’ve included here is written by me, from scratch. After combing through law book after law book for an appropriate model release, I decided that, since I wouldn’t be comfortable signing any of the ones I’d found, I could hardly ask my subjects to do so. For this reason, I wrote my own.
I’ve been told by lawyers that the release is “good enough,” so please take that into account if you choose to use it. I am happy with it although it’s not completely lawsuit-proof because, to me, written agreements simply serve as a way for two parties to be on the same page about their relationship and interaction. I think that signing a contract is, in itself, the best protection against misunderstandings and, subsequently, lawsuits.
