Pročitajte šta uspešna mlada njujorška dizajnerka Džesika Hiš kaže o razlici između inspiracije i imitacije. Gde je granica.
Inspiration vs. Imitation
Every now and then I get a really lovely email from an
aspiring letterer that is about to publish a passion project of his or
her own. They tell me my work was an inspiration and that they can’t
wait to share their creation with the world. I feel all warm and fuzzy
inside for a moment…until I click on their link and realize that much of
what they intend to publish is nearly a direct tracing of my work.
A lot of established illustrators and designers deal with the same thing—students or young professionals that rip them off without realizing it. Addressing these young designers can be really heartbreaking because you know that they had the purest of intentions. So here’s a little post to all the hungry, young designers that are struggling to find their own voice, but end up a bit too close to their inspirations. There are definitely people that maliciously rip artists off left and right, and this post is not for them. They are evil and cannot be helped.
1. It’s OK to copy people’s work. [GIANT ASTERISK!]
A lot of established illustrators and designers deal with the same thing—students or young professionals that rip them off without realizing it. Addressing these young designers can be really heartbreaking because you know that they had the purest of intentions. So here’s a little post to all the hungry, young designers that are struggling to find their own voice, but end up a bit too close to their inspirations. There are definitely people that maliciously rip artists off left and right, and this post is not for them. They are evil and cannot be helped.
1. It’s OK to copy people’s work. [GIANT ASTERISK!]
To be a good artist / letterer / designer / guitar player it takes practice. A lot of it. More than you can even fathom when you’re starting out. If you wanted to become a great guitar player, you wouldn’t buy a fancy guitar and immediately start composing songs… you would pick up a song book, or look up some tablature music on the internet, and teach yourself how to play using other people’s music. You would emulate the greats and learn from them, as they learned from others in the past. You’d spend hours alone trying to be like Jimi Hendrix or Jimmy Page or whomever you really admired. Then, once you were well practiced and felt confident in your abilities to play, you’d form a band, you’d write your own songs, and you’d find your own voice.
When you’re learning, it’s not wrong to copy people—to
learn from them the way that they learned from others before them. What
many young artists have a problem realizing though, is that the work
you create while practicing and learning is completely separate of what
you do professionally. Just because you can play OK Computer cover to cover doesn’t mean you should record an album of your renditions and release them under your name. You know
that any such action would leave you up to your eyeballs in legal
problems. Copy all you wish in private, and once you feel confident in
your skills, create your own original public work.
2. Not everything you make should be on the internet.
When you’re starting out and have a teeny portfolio of student work, it can be very very tempting to publish everything
you’re working on, whether it’s practice or actual published work. It’s
especially hard because, more often than not, the work you’re doing at
your day job is less than inspiring when you are starting out. It will
be really hard to resist showing off the illustration you created that
was inspired heavily by one of your heroes, because in reality it is
probably one of the nicest things you’ve made. But that’s the thing,
every new thing you make will be (should be) the nicest thing you’ve
made so far, because you’re learning and getting better with each and
every new project. Resist posting the practice—the piece that you know
is too close to its inspiration. Let that practice fuel original work
and then publish to your heart’s content.
3. Diversify your inspirations.
4. History is important.
5. Train your eye.
As you study design and illustration, something
similar will happen. At first all print-makery illustrators will look
the same, but soon you’ll be able to point out who did what and
eventually the differences will become so clear that you’ll be shocked
when your non-art friends don’t see them. And then the nerds will
welcome you into their world with a parade and cupcakes.
When you are starting out, you accidentally rip people
off all the time because your eye just doesn’t see the difference
between what you’re doing and what someone you’re inspired by is doing.
You think (anti-awesome) thoughts like “she doesn’t own swashes!”. Over
time though, once you spend a few months examining a lot of people’s
work, you can look at 10 different script letterers and think “OMG they
are SO different! How did I not see it!” If you don’t train yourself to
spot the differences, you’ll never be able to see them in your own work
and it will be very difficult to make anything original.
6. Just because it’s not illegal doesn’t mean it’s ethical.
7. Everybody knows everybody.
Whenever I’m alerted of a possible rip-offer, I try my
best to educate rather than chastise and gently nudge them to find
their own voice. If you see someone ripping-off someone you know or
admire, I suggest you do the same—initiate the conversation as a helpful
and concerned new friend, not an angry enemy. Most of the time the
offenders aren’t aware of how obvious their inspiration sources are.
We’re all guilty of it when we’re starting out, but hopefully this
article will remind some of you to keep that practice work out of your
portfolio, which will keep the angry blog commenters off your back.
Always keep practicing (and practicing, and
practicing), keep looking at beautiful work, keep researching others to
look up to and be inspired by. In no time you’ll be making beautiful
original work of your own.
Addendum:
Jonathan Hoefler wrote an amazing comment that I want to share as a part of the post:
If I can propose an 8th point, which is especially apropos in the type design world: “There’s a difference between making an imitation and selling it.”
At the
Metropolitan Museum of Art, you’ll often find high school students with
their sketchbooks out, camped out in front of the Giottos and Dürers.
It’s a time-honored way of learning: see, try to reproduce, and
discover. I think about this whenever I receive a heads-up that someone
had made a derivative of one of our fonts: the
Requiem-with-snipped-off-serifs that we’ll see in a font distributor’s
website, or the Gotham-with-a-different-M that’s profiled to great
applause on some online showcase. What makes these acts so troubling —
and, by the way, unquestionably illegal (it’s not at all a grey area) —
but makes the eager high schooler so charming?
To me, the
key difference is that the aspiring serif-clipper is not only passing
off the artist’s work as his own, but is doing real damage to the artist
he purportedly admires by competing in the same marketplace. It’s a
time-consuming and expensive distraction to investigate these things,
but one we’re compelled to do every single time, since each purchase of a
knockoff represents lost revenue. And when we share these discoveries
with the organizations that have unwittingly bought the knockoffs, it
invariably reflects poorly on our young serif-clipper: if there was a
relationship there, it is now ended. Everybody loses.
But the 17
year old with the sketchpad is entirely different. He’s not passing off
his Velasquez as a Velasquez, and he’s not passing it off as his own —
in fact, he’s not passing it off at all. It’s a learning exercise, and
if it’s presented at all, it’s always with the appropriate context. (“I
did this in art class, from the Gubbio Studiolo at the Met.”) It also
reveals what young artists finds fascinating, what they struggled with,
and what they learned. It’s been my experience that these kinds of acts
are met with great encouragement and support from the professional
community.
Frederic
Goudy’s commandment to typographers was “stop stealing sheep.” My advice
to aspiring type designers is “stop selling sheep.”
A few
commenters wanted to see/show actual examples of blatant-ripoffs. I’m
choosing not to post examples because the line between a rip-off and
something “heavily inspired-by but still passable” is so blurry. I think
by showing concrete examples I would be trying to make crystal-clear
something that generally isn’t. Former Supreme Court Justice Potter
Stewart said that he didn’t want to define exactly what hard-core
pornography was, stating “I know it when I see it”. You definitely know
derivative work when you see it, and the more you pay attention to
contemporary design and illustration as well as knowing your history,
the easier it is to spot. If you’re inexperienced, everything looks like
porn, if you know what you’re talking about you can spot the real stuff
from “artful photography” before you can blink. The key is to not cry
“porn” before you know what you’re talking about. So study up!
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