1.1 The Fall of Icarus and the burden of genius
In Sakiās The Background, the unfortunate Henri Deplis, a Luxembourger by birth and a commercial traveller by profession, receives a legacy from a distant relative.1 Finding himself āin a small town of Northern Italyā, he decides to āpatronize local artā by getting a tattoo from one Andreas Pincini, who āwas, perhaps, the most brilliant master of tattoo craft that Italy had ever knownā.2 In return for the agreed price of 600 francs, Pincini covers Deplisā back with a tattoo of the Fall of Icarus. Deplis is disappointed by the design as he
had suspected Icarus of being a fortress taken by Wallenstein in the Thirty Yearsā War, but he was more than satisfied with the execution of the work, which was proclaimed by all who had the privilege of seeing it as Pinciniās masterpiece.3
And, as it turns out, also the tattoo artistās final work as he dies before Deplis has paid him. At this point, any lingering disappointment on the part of Deplis gives way to a new series of problems. He is unable to pay the agreed price to Pinciniās widow, who cancels the sale to Deplis of the āwork of artā and presents it instead to the municipality of Bergamo. Deplis slips away to Rome but, as Saki tells us:
[H]e bore on his back the burden of the dead manās genius. On presenting himself one day in the steaming corridor of a vapour bath, he was at once hustled back into his clothes by the proprietor, who was a North Italian, and who emphatically refused to allow the celebrated Fall of Icarus to be publicly on view without the permission of the municipality of Bergamo. Public interest and official vigilance increased as the matter became more widely known, and Deplis was unable to take a simple dip in the sea or river on the hottest afternoon unless clothed up to the collar-bone in a substantial bathing garment. Later on the authorities of Bergamo conceived the idea that salt water might be injurious to the masterpiece, and a perpetual injunction was obtained which debarred the muchly harassed commercial traveller from sea bathing under any circumstances. Altogether, he was fervently thankful when his firm of employers found him a new range of activities in the neighbourhood of Bordeaux. His thankfulness, however, ceased abruptly at the Franco-Italian frontier. An imposing array of official force barred his departure, and he was sternly reminded of the stringent law which forbids the exportation of Italian works of art.4
A diplomatic fracas was followed by a controversy over the provenance of the work, followed in its turn by another over Pinciniās private life: āThe whole of Italy and Germany were drawn into the dispute, and the rest of Europe was soon involved in the quarrelā.5 Clearly traumatized, our man Deplis ādrifted into the ranks of Italian anarchistsā until finally one day āin the heat of debateā a fellow anarchist spilt a ācorrosive liquidā on his back completely obliterating Pinciniās last work.6 The fellow anarchist receives a prison sentence āfor defacing a national art treasureā and Deplis is deported.7 His final fate is to wander āthe quieter streets of Paris, especially in the neighbourhood of the Ministry of the Fine Artsā where he ānurses the illusion that he is one of the lost arms of the Venus De Milo, and hopes that the French government may be persuaded to buy himā.8
Many of the themes of this book are reflected in this ironic and slightly macabre story. Perhaps most obviously, the story examines the implications of the idea that the function of āgeniusā in converting the surface on which it is inscribed into property might also give rise to competing claims. In this story, not only has Deplisā interest in his own body been subsumed in that created by Pinciniās work of art, but also he finds his right over his body to be circumscribed by a sort of public interest in the work that he carries on his back. His body has not only been turned into someone elseās private property, but also into a site of contested state heritage. The mixing of the human body with the work of art echoes Lockeās famous notion of the mixing of labour and found items, but this is not just about the relationship between labour and the production of capital.9 Not only was this labour a work of genius, it was also a work of national genius. These two claims set the work, now irretrievably mixed with the body of Deplis, off on two different trajectories. On the one hand, Deplisā back has become the private property of Pincini and then his unhappy widow. On the other, the cultural significance of Pinciniās genius makes Deplisā back a site of contestation involving Bergamo, Italy, Germany, France āand the rest of Europeā. In the story, Saki dilutes the possible conflict between these two trajectories, the property claim and the heritage claim, by the transfer of the property in the work (and body of Deplis) to the city of Bergamo. However, he leaves in play the heritage claim, contested between different levels of community represented by local, national and supranational entities. Saki seems to have his tongue firmly in his cheek here too: perhaps the fact that Deplis is liberated by an anarchist is intended to remind us of the contestability ā if not more ā of all these political structures as forms of community.
1.2 Structure of the book
Developing the theme of the pervasiveness and significance of private property rights over what is considered to be creative labour, this book commences with an examination of the way in which Western cultural production has been saturated by intellectual property rights. Of particular importance in this respect is copyright. Starting from the relationship of authorization and constitution that will be argued exists between copyright and currently accepted concepts of the āartsā, this first chapter critiques copyrightās claim to stimulate and protect artistic creativity by locating this claim within its historical, political, economic and legal contexts. The chapter seeks to establish the proposition that intellectual property rights locate meaning and value within a market context. Chapter 2 engages with and critiques the frequent assertion that intellectual propertyās system of private rights over cultural production is, or could be, adequately balanced by the notion of the public domain (or commons) in intellectual space. The chapter argues that while being a place of potential political significance, in the sense that it might offer a bulwark against the creeping propertization of everything, the value of the public domain/cultural commons has proved illusory. Not only has it been so seriously under-imagined that its political potential has not been realized, there is also concern that it, or the rhetoric that sustains it, is potentially damaging to other rights, including the right to enjoy and control cultural heritage as a community right.11 The central argument of the chapter is that concepts of the public domain or the commons are not capable of defending the interests of community in cultural production.