Categories
Copyright

Inspiration is not derivation

Recovered from the Wayback Machine. 

I have branded myself outsider, if not outcast, in some weblogging circles by not embracing Creative Commons without hesitation, and not being 100% behind the anti-copyright/pro-public domain movement.

(For what it’s worth, I am behind Imaginative Pastures.)

Scott Andrew LePera wrote an excellent posting saying very nice things about my Mockingbird’s Wish. His post also highlighted what I feel is the disconnect between what I’m trying to say, and what the folks who have been disagreeing with me are hearing. Scott wrote the following:

The Mockingbird’s Wish is itself a derivative work, having roots in wishbringer mythology passed down through oral tradition from numerous cultures. The theme is a familiar one: foolish animals go before gods and spirits to ask for wishes, often getting their just desserts in the end. Rudyard Kipling drew heavily on the same themes in his Just So Stories. I’ve never read Joseph Campbell, but I’ll bet he’d have something to say about the character of the wishbringer.

Shelley has, unintentionally or not, done a bit of rip/mix/burn literature.

I’ve never heard of ‘Wishbringer’, but the concept behind god-like beings granting wishes to foolish creatures is as old as time itself, and forms much of our folklore and mythology, as Scott points out. However, I differ with Scott when he says that I derived my story from Wishbringer. I think what he meant to say is that I was inspired by a genre of writing, of which Wishbringer is most likely a part of. And that’s the heart and soul of the miscommunication.

Dictionary.com defines derivative as:

 

1. Resulting from or employing derivation: a derivative word; a derivative process.

2. Copied or adapted from others: a highly derivative prose style.

What’s even more telling is some of the synonyms for derivative: plagiaristic, rehashed, procured, second-hand, uninventive, unoriginal.

Unoriginal?

Mockingbird’s Wish is neither a copy, nor an adaption of a specific work, and I certainly hope it was not uninventive, unoriginal, and second-hand. No one story or tale was in my mind when I wrote it, and the style is, I hope, uniquely my own. However, the inspiration for the type of story, and the concept of using a parable to make a point arises from every story and tale based on folklore and mythology I’ve read over the years.

In Mockingbird’s Wish there is a little Hans Christian Anderson, and a smidgeon of “Through the Looking Glass”, and a tiny bit of Navaho legend, an atom or two of a story I read years ago and can’t find, as well as a dab of Greek mythology, a hint of the King James Bible, and more than a little general faerie god-motherness thrown in. It’s inspired, in part, by all of these influences, and more, but it isn’t a derivation of any of them. The closest you’ll come, perhaps, is that I mention the nightingale in the story, and that’s the focus in Anderson’s classic The Nightingale. But then, Mockingbird’s Wish focuses on birds, which are the subject of Alfred Hitchcock’s classic movie “The Birds”, so if my work is a derivation of Anderson, one could also say it’s a derivation of Hickcock, too.

The point I’m making is that there is a world of difference between copying or adapting a work from another and creating an original work based on inspiration. No matter how modified, or beautiful, or grand, the derivation is and will always be a copy, while the inspired work is, and will always be, an original work. This isn’t to say that derived work is “bad”. But a derived work is dependent on a specific work that, if it had not been created, the derived work would also not exist. Inspired work is not dependent on any one work or even any one artist.

Copyright laws provide controls on derived works, but not inspired works. When a work enters the public domain, it can be used for a derivation, but a work can provide inspiration regardless of whether it’s copyright protected or not. This is one of the points I’ve been trying to make, and one that seems to keep failing — to many of the people who I disagree with, there is no difference between the two, while to me, there is a world of difference.

Another point I’ve been trying to make, and one that has even less acceptance if that’s possible is that regardless of copyright, there exists another element that should impact on what we do with another’s work: respect.

An example that keeps being brought up is Samuel Beckett and his plays. Beckett, perhaps more so than most playwrights, had tightly held notions about how his plays were to be produced, including blocking two plays because female actors were brought in for male roles. Some would say that Beckett’s strict controls inhibited other’s interpretation of how the play should be produced. Scott wrote:

 

I simply disagree with the notion that any creative works are so important that we must have laws that state they cannot be interpreted in any other way other than how the author intended. Things are interpreted, and reinterpreted. It’s the way our culture works. Even our own Constitution is constantly being reinterpreted, sometimes with grave consequences.

 

Scott has a very good point, but then, so did Beckett. Beckett’s view was that he was ‘inspired’ to write a play that had a specific message, and someone else’s interpretation of his play could also change the message, and this changes the soul of the play itself.

Ultimately the question of inspiration compared to derivation compared to interpreation reduces to: does the need of the new artist to re-interpret or create a derivation of the original work take precedence over the need to respect the original artist’s wishes? This is a question that can never be answered by copyright law because it is an issue of respect as it is balanced agains innovation.

This question, or it should be, the question asked every time a person want’s to re-interpret another’s creation. It is outside my comprehension how an innovator who is so moved by a piece of work to want to apply their own interpretation on it, not also be moved by the original artist’s wishes. If they are not, then their arrogance can’t help but obscure the original artist’s message and rather than add to the work, they detract from it.

However, if the innovator does ask themselves this question, and applies their innovation with respect to the original artist, carefully, delicately, adding their own message without destruction of the original artist’s, then the work can be enhanced. But only a person who can see beyond their own needs has the empathy necessary to merge their view with the original artist’s view.

I think my biggest concern about all of this is that we seem to be a society that is progressing towards an attitude that it’s okay to rip/mix/burn with no thought of the consequences, the results, the original artist’s views or work, or anything other than our own desires to do what we want, when we want. Cheap hacks rather than inspired creations.

Scott wrote at the end:

 

And let’s face it: sometimes the derivative is better. Or at least more consumable.

Not sure how to respond to that, except to quote what Michael Hanscom wrote about Mockingbird:

 

I’ve always tried to do my best to sing my own song. Some days I do better than others, of course, and it’s easy to get lost in the chorus, but at least I can always keep trying.

(I said in a previous posting that it was the last posting on this topic; I guess I lied. But I was inspired to write this when Mockingbird’s Wish was called a derived work. )

Categories
Weblogging

Happy birthday, Jonathon

It’s the 24th here in the States, but it’s the 25th in Australia, which means it’s Jonathon Delacour’s birthday ‘today’.

I think you all should drop on by Jonathon’s weblog and wish him a Happy Birthday. Better yet, go to this posting, and write “Happy Birthday, Jonathon! Now go buy the damn PowerBook!”.

 


Birthday Cake

Categories
Burningbird

Come together

I finally started posting the updated chapters for the Practical RDF book, over at the weblog. These have been edited, drastically, since the last release. The end is in sight for this book and I’m not sure who’s happier: me or my editor. This book has been a long time coming.

Thanks to my most recent announcement about the TOC, I was introduced to some new and very interesting uses of RDF/XML out there ‘in the world’; including a very sophisticated commercial application. These are all covered in the updated chapters.

Other work, though the effect is subtle: I’ve made some majors modifications here and there. For instance, the Recent Comments, Recent Trackbacks, and Recent Writing sections now cross all of my weblogs/web sites. I found that with the Practical RDF, weblog keeping it in isolation from Burningbird was not a good idea.

Now, no matter what main page you go to you’ll be able to see, at a glance, what’s happening elsewhere in the Burningbird Network. I used PHP/MySql to make these change, and once I test the code out a few days, I’ll post it online.

I didn’t use Movable Type plug-ins because by the time I’m finished with the Burningbird Network re-organization and my porting of all the BB Net pages to Moveable Type, I’ll have over twelve main weblog/web site pages. MT plug-ins would require a re-build of all these pages whenever a comment or trackback arrived or a new posting or edit was made.

There’s much less CPU involved just by accessing recent activity directly from the database. Since the amount of data is small and the queries are optimized, the data access should be lightweight. If anything, the PHP processing is what slows the page accesses with my current host, which tends to be a bit CPU and bandwidth bound, rather than I/O bound.

(In other words, with my current host, CPU resources are a bit strained, as is the available Internet bandwidth; however, internal file access, which is what happens with local database queries, does not seem to be strained at this time.)

Of course, all individual and category or secondary pages are static HTML. They’re only re-built when a change is made to the page that impacts them, only, so it was more efficient to use MT plug-ins with them. The only exception is the Backtrack PHP page, which is why it’s linked from the individual pages, instead of incorporating the processing directly into the page itself.

It’s coming together. It’s all finally starting to come together. Right now, over you.

(Apologies to the Beatles for taking their song title and messing with their words.)

Categories
Writing

Mockingbird’s Wish

Mockingbird in a tree

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

The news spread first as a whisper and then as a shout: First Mother was granting to each creature one wish. One wish, only, but whatever was asked, would be granted. Mockingbird heard the news from Hawk who head the news from Sparrow who heard the news from Robin and the forest was atwitter with the sound of the birds as they discussed this extraordinary event.

When the Great Day came, all the birds gathered in the Glen, bending the limbs of the trees until they grumbled and groaned out from the weight. Suddenly, a smell of new grass and old dirt and the sound of sea breeze and rustling sand and the light of the sun and the moon entered the Glen, and all the birds bowed low because this was First Mother, the first of all of them. The light was so bright they could not see her form, but they could feel her warmth, and when she spoke each word seemed weighted, as if pulled from Time itself.

:My friends, today I give each of you a wish. One wish only, but whatever you ask, I will grant it.

The birds clacked their beaks and moved their wings until the Glen was full of the sound of feathers; but they fell still when First Mother spoke again.

:Before you ask your wish, though, think hard, and think long. Whatever you ask will be given on to you and to all your descendants for all time. Do not spend your wish foolishly.

And, as the words ended, a beam of light shone out from the glory of First Mother and fell on Cardinal.

:What will you have Cardinal?

Cardinal shied back at first, startled at being the center of eyes, shaken by the light that shown dully on its plain brown feathers. After a moment, though, it spoke out.

“First Mother, I have long been plain. Neither small, nor large, with no interesting markings and no particular song. I would wish, more than anything, to be beautiful. To be of a color so rich that it is noted throughout all lands. This is what I truly wish.”

:So be it, Cardinal.

The light on Cardinal began to intensify and became so bright that all of those in the Glen had to turn away because it hurt their eyes so. When it suddenly stopped, the birds blinked their eyes to adjust to the darkness. As each recovered its sight it turned towards Cardinal, and gasped out at what it beheld.

Where Cardinal had been, dull and brown and plain and unseen, now stood a glorious creature of incredible color! Rich red shown from its wings and around its face dark velvety black. Slowly, Cardinal became aware of the other birds stares and tentatively stretched its own wing out. When it beheld its beauty and its color, which shown out even in the darkness, it was overcome, bringing both wings over its face, body trembling with joy at the change. When it could finally speak, it whispered out, “First Mother, thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, and thank you from all my descendants throughout all time”. At those words, Cardinal bowed low to the ground.

Cardinal among trees

The act was repeated many times. The shining light, the wish, the incredible change. On through the afternoon and through the night and the next day, First Mother granted the wishes of whomever the light shown.

Eagle wished for sight that would allow it to spot food from high above. Pelican wished for a beak that would allow it to hold many fish. Crow asked for cunning, and when it made its bow in gratitude, unlike the other birds it kept one eye cocked towards First Mother, always alert for the main chance.

Owl asked to see at night, and Nightingale asked for glorious song. In fact, many birds asked for a special song, all of their own, all unique and beautiful. To listen to each sing their first song after their wish was granted was a glorious experience indeed.

Mockingbird watched all of this in wonder and more than a little envy. It thought it to itself, “I would have liked to have the red of the Cardinal, and the eyesight of the Eagle, and the song of the Nightingale, but they were asked first.”

As time went by and other birds had their wishes granted — Seagull to fly and Penguin to swim and Ostrich to run — Mockingbird’s envy grew, until in the midst of its discontent an idea came to it. The Idea of all Ideas! It smiled to itself, sure that it’s wish would be the best of all. When its turn finally came, when it felt the heat and warmth of the beam, Mockingbird knew what to ask.

:What will you have Mockingbird?

“First Mother”, it said. “I have listened to the song you’ve given Nightingale and Canary and Meadowlark. And I asked myself why should I have only one song, one sound, when I can have many.” Mockingbird boldly looked into the light that was First Mother.

“That is my wish — to have all the songs of all the birds of the world. To be able to hear any bird and any song and sing as sweetly or as cleverly as they do. I want all the songs, First Mother. All of them.”

:Mockingbird, your wish is both vast and shallow. Are you sure of your wish? Are you sure that what you want is all the songs of all the birds?

“Yes, First Mother. I am”, Mockingbird replied, smug in the knowledge that First Mother would grant the request.

:So be it, Mockingbird.

Slowly the air around Mockingbird brightened until it had to close its eyes from the light. A faint shock went through its body and settled in its throat, and it knew that its wish had been granted. As it waited for the light to dim, and to be able test its new abilities, it was surprised to hear what sounded like a sad sigh within the glow around it.

After the beam stopped and the light faded, all the birds looked at it in silence. “This will never do”, thought Mockingbird to itself. “You there, Canary. Sing something!”

Canary moved to protest but of course the protest issued forth as glorious song. And after a few notes, Mockingbird felt something come over it and opened its beak and from its throat came sounds twin to Canary. Canary was so surprised it’s song sputtered to an indignant stop.

Though its song was lovely, indeed, Mockingbird wasn’t satisfied. “You, there, Meadowlark! Sing!”, it demanded.

As with Canary when Meadowlark sought to protest its protest came out as song and soon the sounds of Meadowlark joined the song of Canary, and were eventually joined by Nightingale and Robin and Finch and so on until Mockingbird’s song outshone all of them for it’s intricate beauty and complex melody, one bird’s song after another. Even the trees were moved to silence and ceased their complaints at the wonder of the sound.

The other birds were not happy because what was once uniquely their’s now belonged to another. However, they didn’t complain because to do so would be ungrateful to First Mother.

After all the wishes had been granted and after First Mother left the Glen, the birds dispersed to their homes, some to plains, some to the sea, and some to forest where Mockingbird made its home. Over time other creatures came to the trees and they were eventually joined by First Man and First Woman. Villages sprang up and roads were built. and Mockingbird took delight in siting in the trees near the villages, singing its song, well satisfied when it looked down on the entranced faces that stared at it.

One day Mockingbird was sitting in a tree near the road when an old man and a little girl walked beneath it. It began its song, a complex weaving of Chickadee, flowing into Hawk cry, mixed with the mournful tone of Owl, and ending on delicate otherworldly chimes of Hummingbird. The old man and the girl stopped, caught in the spell of the sweet sound.

“Grandfather, what kind of bird is that, which can sing so many songs!”, the little girl asked.

“Well, granddaughter, that is Mockingbird. And it can sing all the songs of all the birds in the world. In fact, there is no song it cannot hear that it cannot sing.” The old man sighed. “Is it not beautiful?”

“It is grandfather. A lovely sound indeed.”

The little girl listened for a time and then turned to her grandfather, a puzzled expression on her face.

“But Grandfather, what is Mockingbird’s true song? How can we tell which song is true and which song copied if it sings all the songs of all the birds in the world?”

“Granddaughter, the Mockingbird has no song of its own. It’s only sound is that which it borrows from others.” At that the girl seemed sad, and the old man hastened to reassure her. “But isn’t its song beautiful and rich? Why are you so sad?”

“Because, grandfather, the Mockingbird has no song of its own.”

On hearing this Mockingbird’s sound faltered and it fell silent. When the song ended, the old man and the little girl, released from the spell of the music, walked away, leaving Mockingbird alone with its thoughts.

Thoughts now filled with regret.

Categories
Diversity People

I have a dream

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of captivity. But one hundred years later, we must face the tragic fact that the Negro is still not free.

One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land.

This will come as no surprise that I’m a proponent of Affirmative Action. However, lest you think I believe in Affirmative Action because I’m some kind of fuzzy headed 60’s flower child liberal do-gooder with more ideals than sense, be aware that my interest in Affirmative Action is purely selfish in nature.

It is my opinion that while this nation is one where most of the wealth and power is held in the hands of one race, and one race alone, it will never be great. It can never hope to be great. It will always limp along in its own blind self-image of greatness, smug in the belief that great power deserves great respect; yet most of the people of this world, and too many in this country, see the United States as the ultimate hypocrite — the land that calls itself equal when it is anything but.

 

So we have come here today to dramatize an appalling condition. In a sense we have come to our nation’s capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir.

This note was a promise that all men would be guaranteed the inalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check which has come back marked “insufficient funds.” But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation.

So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to open the doors of opportunity to all of God’s children. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood.

 

I was disappointed but not surprised when President Bush decided to throw the power of the White House against the University of Michigan’s admissions policy, one in which factors such as ethnicity, neighborhood, and economic status can influece a person’s admission into the University. President Bush says using race as a factor in college admissions is unconstitutional.

I agree. But since race has been a factor in college admissions for hundreds of years in this country, I think it’s only fair to continue this practice until everyone has had a chance to play. After all, Bush himself benefited by this unconstitutional application of race, and the connections to power and wealth, in his own entrance to Yale.

 

We cannot walk alone. And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, “When will you be satisfied?” we can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro’s basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

 

My interest in Affirmative Action is purely selfish. I believe that if blacks had been freed when the immortal words, “All men are created equal” were written, we would have a different country today. And if blacks had been treated with respect and given opportunities several hundred years ago, instead of only the last few decades, we would have a better country today.

If blacks had been allowed to become doctors, we might have cures now for cancer. If blacks had been allowed to become scientists, we might have fusion power; harnessing the energy of the sun in a safe manner so that even in the cities amidst all the lights we might still see the stars because the skies are free of smog.

We might have less poverty, less crime, more music and art and literature. What plays were unwritten because blacks were not allowed to read or write? What great books have been lost? If we had not denied equal opportunity to so many in this country for so long, we could truly be great today, and no one, no one could deny this. I believe this.

 

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal.” I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slaveowners will be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood. I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a desert state, sweltering with the heat of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today.

 

Some people say that Affirmative Action is discrimination, a positive discrimination, and I say so what if it is? If the saw that cut me one day is all I have to save my life against the winter cold, can I be blamed for picking it up again to cut wood?

We must use every weapon in this war against the status quo because those who seek to protect the status quo will use every weapon in their power to resist, up to an including the use of the term “discrimination”. How this word must taste of ashes in their mouths.

Blacks make up 13% of the population of this country — this means that 1 out of about 8 people in this country is black. In a truly equal society, then, every profession in this country should have, at least, one black for every eight people. Stand up the next time you’re at your job and look around you? Do you see one black person for every eight employees? I know that in my computer technology field I don’t see this. In fact, I have been at some conferences and among several hundred people attending I’ve not seen one black face. Not one black face.

Don’t believe me? Next time you attend a technology conference, look around you. What do you see? Are there blacks among the attendees? Among the speakers? Or are the only blacks you see those who bus the tables at lunch.

If blacks had not been denied opportunty all those many years ago, where would my field be today? Would we have had computers earlier? Would we still be using keyboards and monitors or would computers be in the air around us, listening for our spoken words and with the ability to display an image in the air in front of us anywhere we are. What could we do? What couldn’t we do.

 

I have a dream that one day the state of Alabama, whose governor’s lips are presently dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, will be transformed into a situation where little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls and walk together as sisters and brothers. I have a dream today. I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together. This is our hope. This is the faith with which I return to the South. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

 

If our country had been based on tolerance all those years ago when it was born, how much richer as a people would we be now? Would we have fought the wars we fought? Would we be faced with a war in Iraq now? How different would this world be if we had been the first to show that people of different races, and religions, and beliefs could exist side by side in harmony.

We had a choice then and walked down the wrong path and we’ve paid the price and we continue to pay the price and it is a heavy one. Let’s not continue to walk down that path — it’s time for change, true change. The status quo only benefits a few who ask too many of us to die to defend it. I think its time we stop being the pawns and started thinking for ourselves.

I think it’s time we started living up to the ideals that we put into words and song, “The land of the brave, the home of the free.”

 

This will be the day when all of God’s children will be able to sing with a new meaning, “My country, ’tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim’s pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring.” And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania! Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado! Let freedom ring from the curvaceous peaks of California! But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia! Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee! Let freedom ring from every hill and every molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, “Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”

Martin Luther King, Jr. I have a Dream

Happy birthday, Martin Luther King, Jr.