Purple or “Mr. Ron, is it okay to copy?”

Today we had a discussion about intellectual property.

The traditional-material morning invitation of the day was watercolor paint. Three children (and their 28-year-old teacher) sat around a rectangular table, each dipping a brush into a jar of water, swishing the brush in paint, and painting on the inexpensive watercolor paper in front of them. On hot days (such as today) anything water-related (even if it doesn’t necessarily involve immersing oneself into water) is a welcome diversion from the surrounding swelter.

As the children worked, I listened—journal, as always, close-by.

“Hey, B, remember the doors you made last time?” H asks. H is referencing a composition that his friend made the previous week where she painted a series of rectangles on a watercolor sheet and then proceeded to color each one in with the utmost intention and focus.

B replies, “Yeah.”

“Well,” H continues, “that’s what I’m doin’.”

“Well…” there is some hesitation in B’s voice, “you can’t copy me.”

I cannot tell if H is surprised at B’s resistance, resistance generally, or if this idea is new to him. However, he finds his words and insists that “Yeah, I can.”

“No, you can’t,” comes B’s firm reply.

An appeal to authority follows. “Mr. Ron, is it okay if I copy this?”

“It sounds like you want to copy B’s work. Do you think it’s okay to do that?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

“No.”

I wonder: “Why?”

Eventually, I wonder to the children if it’s okay if H copies B’s work if he attributes it to her. After all, certain forms of copyright in the adult world only require consent from the copyright holder and an attribution. The children eventually agree, and any potential conflict is fully averted. In truth, these two old playmates would likely have never erupted into a full-scale argument, but it was interesting to watch as they navigated the space between inspiration and plagiarism (if the latter is an appropriate approximation of what almost took place).

What struck me most, and made me chuckle, was what happened next.

H dipped his paintbrush into the purple paint and declared to the table that he was using purple.

No less than a few seconds later, B did similarly—dipping her brush into the water and declaring she was using purple.

The irony was, perhaps, lost on everyone except for me.

It also invited me to wonder: how does the infinitude of possibilities impact

What does this say about each child’s relationship to the products of their artistic creation?

Speaking from experience, I would not be surprised if, for B, her art is a representation of her inner life that feels intensely personal and need to be protected from the intrusion of others. It is both an expression of astonishing creativity and an exercise of absolute control.

For H, art is often both explanatory and exploratory space—at least explicitly. By this, I mean that for him, art is something through which he explains, explores possibility, and plays—flexibly—with the world. Dinosaurs, machines, mechanisms, and the subjects of his art—things that intrigue him but that he does not own. For B, there is both an intrigue and an ownership in the majority of her visual artistic creations. These merit protection.

So, perhaps the fact that purple is one of only twenty-or-so colors, that exist and were created outside of her own mind is what makes it fair game for use by anyone.

Perhaps yes, perhaps no, and perhaps it’s somewhere in between. Grateful to witness it all.

Until soon!

Ron