Page:Andy Warhol Foundation v. Goldsmith.pdf/61

10 not have been more different.

A thought experiment may pound the point home. Suppose you were the editor of Vanity Fair or Condé Nast, publishing an article about Prince. You need, of course, some kind of picture. An employee comes to you with two options: the Goldsmith photo, the Warhol portrait. Would you say that you don’t really care? That the employee is free to flip a coin? In the majority’s view, you apparently would. Its opinion, as further discussed below, is built on the idea that both are just “portraits of Prince” that may equivalently be “used to depict Prince in magazine stories about Prince.” ; see, and , , ,. All I can say is that it’s a good thing the majority isn’t in the magazine business. Of course you would care! You would be drawn aesthetically to one, or instead to the other. You would want to convey the message of one, or instead of the other. The point here is not that one is better and the other worse. The point is that they are fundamentally different. You would see them not as “substitute[s],” but as divergent ways to (in the majority’s mantra) “illustrate a magazine about Prince with a portrait of Prince.”, ; see , and , , ,. Or else you (like the majority) would not have much of a future in magazine publishing.

In any event, the editors of Vanity Fair and Condé Nast understood the difference—the gulf in both aesthetics and meaning—between the Goldsmith photo and the Warhol portrait. They knew about the photo; but they wanted the portrait. They saw that as between the two works, Warhol had effected a transformation.

The question in this case is whether that transformation should matter in assessing whether Warhol made “fair use” of Goldsmith’s copyrighted photo. The answer is yes—it should push toward (although not dictate) a finding of fair