Moral Right

"I don't understand how he can do this. It's my skin!"

Allie - her identification reads "Nahasdzáán," but she still thinks of herself as Allie -- glares across the conference table, past the crystal pitcher and glasses of water. The air conditioning isn't quite strong enough to take the July heat out of the glass-walled conference room.

Allie is 23 with an hourglass figure; her hair is growing out blonde, although the ends are tinged with green and blue dye. Her skin, the cause of her current exasperation, is very fair, but hardly visible behind the extensive tattoos that cover it. She has tattoos all over her face and neck - even over her eyelids. They also cover her arms and legs, feet and hands, and it's clear they continue underneath the t-shirt and jeans she's wearing.

Ms. Ryan, her lawyer, looks back at her sympathetically. Sitting next to her, the firm's senior partner, Mr. Gravelle, seems more bemused.

Ms. Ryan sighs. "Yes, it's your skin, and your body. But you allowed Yádiłhił to create art on it, and that gave him certain rights. When you had part of the tattoos erased, you violated those rights."

"But how can he have any rights over my body?"

Mr. Gravelle says, "He doesn't have rights over your body. He has rights over the art on your body."

Allie holds her head in her hands. "Aaagh! What's the difference?"

Ms. Ryan tries again. "Look, I know this is frustrating for you. But the law gives artists rights over their art, called 'moral rights.' It's your skin, so you can take the art where you want, show it or not show it. But if you show it, Yádiłhił has the right to have people know he's the author— this is called the 'right of attribution.' And he has the right that if the art is shown, it's shown unaltered and complete—this is called the 'right of integrity.' Yádiłhił's lawyers know the tattoo removal service warned you about this and that you went ahead and did it anyway. Most tattoo artists waive these rights as a matter of course, but you didn't have the usual paperwork."

Allie rolls her eyes. "No, I didn't have my famous artist boyfriend sign paperwork when he offered to have me tattooed with his art." She takes a drink of water, trying to calm herself. "It doesn't matter that he didn't do it himself? It took his tattoo artist friends six months to do all this. Hurt like hell."

"Artists often use assistants. If Yádiłhił created the plans for the artwork and the assistants did it under his direction, he's legally the author, and has the right to attribution."

"So, by taking his name off my body, removing his marks from me, I violated his rights. What about my rights? Don't I have the right to be who I want?"

Mr. Gravelle shakes his head. "You did, Nahasdzáán, but you made that choice when you allowed Yádiłhił to tattoo you, and now you have to live with it."

"Quit calling me that. I'm not Navajo. Even John is only a sixteenth Navajo. You know he only calls himself Yádiłhił in public, right? Such a joke, my 'Mother Earth' to his 'Father Sky.' We were always John and Allie when friends came over."

Ms. Ryan says, "We can file to get your name changed back, but right now you need to answer to the name you chose."

"I didn't choose it. It was John's idea. Just like these tattoos we John's idea. I can't believe I fell for it." She makes a face. "Or him."

Ms. Ryan opens up a folder. "Let's get back to the matter at hand. Right now, Yádiłhił is suing you. The lawsuit asks for an award of two million dollars, plus attorneys' fees, in addition to your restoring the artwork at your expense, and an in injunction requiring you to completely respect his moral rights regarding the artwork."

"You know I don't have anywhere close to that kind of money."

Mr. Gravelle says, "Yes, that's why you qualify for pro bono representation. Of course, we also took your case because it is interesting, legally."

Ms. Ryan says, "We've never seen an award as large as that for the infringement of moral rights, but even a smaller award, plus attorneys' fees and restoration costs, would be a challenge for you to cover. The other thing you'd have to bear is the requirement for respecting his moral rights. Attribution shouldn't be a problem, once you restore his signature to the artwork, but but the rights of integrity and association might be. The right of association means that Yádiłhił has the right to determine what contexts in which his artwork is shown. So you couldn't show your tattoos while working for a company, or volunteering for a cause, that Yádiłhił didn't approve of. You could work behind the scenes, but not anywhere members of the public could see you."

"Well, it's not like most places will hire me for that kind of role, anyway. I have friends who work for Tim Hortons who have tattoos, and they tried to get me a job there, but they said with all these --" she indicates her face - "it just wasn't going to happen."

"There's another thing that might be harder. I have to let you know about the right of integrity. Yádiłhił has the right to have his work shown undistorted and without material alteration. That not only means you can't alter or remove parts of it, but also that you have to display the work completely, or not at all. Covering it, or adding to it with clothing, would be a violation of the right of integrity. You would have to completely expose or completely cover the artwork at all times."

"What? The tattoos cover everything. I'd have to go naked all the time! You must be kidding."

Ms. Ryan shakes her head. "No. In fact one of the first major cases on moral rights in Canada, Snow v. Eaton Centre, made it clear that adding clothing or other decorations to a protected artwork against the will of the author was a violation of the right of integrity. I'm afraid he's on solid legal ground."

Mr. Gravelle nods. "Fortunately, there's a clear exception in the public nudity laws for good faith efforts of artistic expression, which would certainly apply here. So you'd be able to live and work normally while displaying the artwork. Our firm would be able to ensure that you don't get in trouble with law enforcement, and work with potential employers to iron out any issues."

Ms. Ryan says, "Your only alternative would be to cover the entire artwork so that none of it was visible. Since the tattoos cover your face, eyelids, and hands, You'd have to wear a garment covering the entire body, including a screen for the eyes, and also gloves. Given the recent rash of hate crimes against women wearing burqas and hijabs, I wouldn't recommend it."

Mr. Gravelle says, "And there's a good possibility that the Conservatives will, in exchange for staying in government, give the BQ their proposed law banning face coverings all over Canada, applying not just to government workers but to everyone. That would apply to you, too."

Allie sits back in her chair, mouth half open in disbelief. "This is insane. I mean, I'm not shy, but how am I supposed to go around in winter?. You must be able to fight this. There's no way anybody could force me to do that."

Ms. Ryan says, "You'd think so, but he's such a famous artist - so important to raising Canada's status abroad -- that he's going to be given a great deal of deference by the courts. Whether you like it or not, you are—I mean, on you, is one of the most important works of art made in the last few years. Your being willing to destroy it, even after being warned against it by the removal service, is going to look very bad for you in court. I think it's unlikely Yádiłhił will get the financial award he's asking for, but he's got a very good chance at everything else."

"So what do I do?"

"There is a settlement offer," says Ms. Ryan. "It asks some things they couldn't require from you without a settlement, but I think it's a good offer and you should seriously consider it."

"I'm listening."

"Okay. First, if you accept the offer, you don't have to pay anything. Yádiłhił will pay his own lawyers, and he'll restore the art on your body at his own expense. Also, at his expense, he will arrange for regular skin and hair care for you to ensure that they remain in the same state, as much as possible, as when the artwork was completed." Ms. Ryan takes a breath. "Yádiłhił is prepared to make a very limited waiver of his moral right of integrity. You'd be allowed to wear protective clothing outdoors in cold weather, without requiring you to hide the portions of the artwork on your face or hands. However, in mild weather, or indoors, you'd be required to put the artwork on full display. Covering it up would not be allowed."

Allie looks down at herself. "Um..."

Ms. Ryan continues. "Yádiłhił would also make a limited waiver of his right of association. As long as images of the artwork aren't explicitly used in advertising, he would not object to any display of the artwork in the course of regular employment. This means you could, for example, be paid to work in a customer service role, or if you wanted, be paid simply to exhibit the work publicly. In return for all this, you'd be obligated twice a month to allow the artwork to be put on display in Yádiłhił's gallery, in as part of his other creative work. For this you'd be compensated, at three times the province's living wage, for your participation."

There's a pause as Allie takes all this in. "I thought... I'd get the chance to be Allie again, to be my own person, not just John's, Yádiłhił's, painted doll. But it sounds like I have no choice. I'll basically be Nahasdzáán forever. That's all anybody will ever see when they look at me. "

Ms. Ryan nods. "We're all defined by the decisions we make. I turned down a Supreme Court clerkship in Ottawa to stay here with my husband. We're still together, but I always wonder what would have happened if I'd taken it. We can't undo the choices we make, or control the results. I'm sure you never thought about the consequences of allowing Yádiłhił to use your body for his art, but that doesn't mean they're not real."

Mr. Gravelle is firm. "I have to say, I think Yádiłhił's offer is a pretty good one. This started because you violated his legal rights, and the end result is that he's paying you. We get a lot of people in here who have very difficult situations, and he's leaving you sitting pretty. I think you should take it."

Allie takes another drink of water, then gets up and goes to the window. She stares out; she's only on the second floor, but she can see a sliver of the blue lake in the distance, between buildings. After a few moments she turns back and sits again. "Okay. I'll take the deal. What do I have to do?"

Ms. Ryan hands her some papers with several signature lines; at each one, Allie signs "Nahasdzáán." Finally, she hands the papers back. "Anything else?"

Mr. Gravelle says, "You do need to comply with the integrity provision."

"Ah." Allie gets out of her seat. She slowly pulls her t-shirt over her head and sets it on a chair next to her, and then removes her brassiere. Then she kicks off her sneakers and pushes down her jeans and panties.

"You won't be needing those anymore," says Ms Ryan. She hands Allie a pair of transparent plastic sandals to wear.

Mr. Gravelle unabashedly looks over her body and the artwork covering it. Her face, neck, arms, legs, hands and feet are covered in elaborate patterns of flowers and leaves, gardens and groves. The front of her torso is a green landscape, her breasts painted as rolling hills covered in greenery, her sex at the center of an abundant valley of grain and grapevines. As he moves around her, he sees that her back is covered in a view of a boreal forest, under a blue sky that matches the color of the dye of her hair. Below that her buttocks shows a view of the earth from space, fading into a black starry background. All the images blend into each other, giving a sense of coherence and elegance. A small irregular patch of on her lower right buttock, in what would be the black sky, has had the ink removed and appears light.

"My God, this is exquisite. I've seen pictures of Yádiłhił's paintings but never been so close to his work... I'm so glad you agreed to the settlement before I saw this, Nahasdzáán, it would have been very hard for me to argue against Yádiłhił." He puts his hand forward as though to touch her, but before making contact checks himself and pulls it back.

"Here," Ms. Ryan says, as she hands Allie an envelope with a copy of the settlement and "to whom it may concern" letter explaining her situation. "Our office will work with the gallery to arrange the time for the artwork restoration and your first exhibition. Allie, did you want us to move forward with the name change?"

She looks down at herself. "I guess not. If the only thing people are going to see is Mother Earth I might as well be that. Thanks, Ms. Ryan, I guess I'd better go."

Nahasdzáán leaves the conference room and tries to ignore the stares of the people watching as she goes to the elevator. After exiting the building, she looks back up at the conference room. Mr. Gravelle is looking down at her from the window.

The next week, Nahasdzáán calls up Ms. Ryan. She can't keep the agitation out of her voice..

"What is it, Allie?"

"I went down to the gallery to get the restoration done. Yádiłhił wasn't there but they told me what's going to happen. The settlement's not what you said! You said I'd show myself as part of Yádiłhił's creative work, but that's not what it says! It says I'm to be on exhibit as part of his Creation!"

"I don't understand. What does that mean?"

"We only did it once, in public, and that's when I left him, I said I could show myself off, but that was too far!"

"Allie, I'm sorry, I don't understand."

Nahasdzáán takes a breath, trying to slow down.

"Ms. Ryan, Creation is the name of the performance art Yádiłhił came up with, after we were both tattooed. Yádiłhił, Father Sky, mates with Nahasdzáán, Mother Earth, re-enacting the Navajo creation myth. Or some creation myth, I don't know. The point is, he's not just expecting me to show up and be looked at, he's expecting to fuck me! In public! Twice a month, forever!"

Ms. Ryan takes a breath. "Oh. I see. He didn't make that clear."

"You've got to get me out of this!"

"Um," she pauses. "I don't think I can. You signed the settlement, and if you forfeit the terms, you'll end up owing him the entire amount from the original lawsuit, two million dollars, plus expenses. It's legal to make a contract to participate in performance art, even if that art is sexually explicit, as long as it's a genuine expression of artistic intent. Given that it's Yádiłhił, it would be basically impossible to argue against. I think, unless you can afford to break the settlement, you need to go forward with it."

"But you told me! You should have known!"

"I can only give you the best advice I have. I'm sorry I can't do more for you."

"Goddammit!" Nahasdzáán hangs up the phone.

The following Saturday, Nahasdzáán arrives at the gallery. By now she's gotten somewhat used to the stares she gets everywhere she goes, but today her anxiety is running high. She walks in the door and is surprised to recognize the woman working the entry table, a friend from college. Nahasdzáán had introduced her to Yádiłhił, once upon a time. "Claire?"

The woman smiles. "Hi, Nahasdzáán. I'm called Tónteel, now." Tónteel is wearing a sleeveless crop top, and Nahasdzáán can see that Tónteel's skin has areas that are tattooed with ocean waves and views of undersea scenes.

"Are those—" Nahasdzáán indicates Tónteel's tattoos.

"Yes, I'm Yádiłhił's new work. I was always jealous of you, you know, being with a great artist like Yádiłhił."

"Are you his girlfriend now? You know what's going to happen today, right?"

"Yes, we're together. I wish I could be the one to perform with him today, But you're his Nahasdzáán. Without you, there can't be a Creation. I could never come between Yádiłhił and his art. I'm glad that at least I'll be able to see it."

Nahasdzáán can't think of anything to say. Finally, she mutters, "Uh, okay. I'll be in the bathroom."

The bathroom is equipped with a shower, and Nahasdzáán washes herself off. She stays there for a while, then goes out to wait. There's a curtain, behind which she'll wait until the right moment to begin the performance.

She gets to the place she's supposed to wait. Yádiłhił is there. It's the first time she's seen him in person since she left him, months ago. He's also nude. She sees the tattoos he designed for himself - images of the sun, the sky, the Milky Way. Despite herself, she's in awe of the artwork on his skin. He says nothing, but just smiles softly.

The soundtrack begins, initiating the performance. It's loud chanting entirely in Navajo, a language Nahasdzáán doesn't understand. Yádiłhił still says nothing, but picks up her hand, squirts personal lubricant from a bottle onto it and places it on his cock. She spreads the lube, and feels him get excited.

She hears her name on the soundtrack, and walks out from behind the curtain. She steps onto a circular platform, fifteen centimeters off the ground and two meters in diameter, painted with an image of the earth from space and topped with a black chaise. She walks around the platform, turning as she does so to display the artwork on her body to the audience. There are about fifty people there watching; she recognizes Claire/Tónteel, some other friends she remembers from when she was with Yádiłhił, and also Mr. Gravelle.

When she's finished her orbit she lies back on the chaise.She stares up at a canopy above her, painted with images of the sun and sky. Shortly, the soundtrack says Yádiłhił's name and he steps out from behind the curtain. Fully erect and holding his penis in his hand, he makes the same kind of orbit Nahasdzáán had made to display himself to the audience, and then moves to stand in front of her.

She uses her hands to open herself up to him. He puts the tip of his cock at her entrance, then bends down to speak so only she can hear. "Remember, this is my moral right," he says, as she feels his cock push inside her.