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34 majority’s reasoning, someone in the market for a papal portrait could use either one, see. Velázquez’s portrait, although Bacon’s model, is not “the object of [his] commentary.” ; see A. Zweite, Bacon’s Scream, in Francis Bacon: The Violence of the Real 71 (A. Zweite ed. 2006) (Bacon “was not seeking to expose Velázquez’s masterpiece,” but instead to “adapt it” and “give it a new meaning”). And absent that “target[ing],” the majority thinks the portraits’ distinct messages make no difference. Recall how the majority deems irrelevant the District Court’s view that the Goldsmith Prince is vulnerable, the Warhol Prince iconic. Too small a “degree of difference,” according to the majority. ; see. So too here, presumably: the stolid Pope, the disturbed Pope—it just doesn’t matter. But that once again misses what a copier accomplished: the making of a wholly new piece of art from an existing one.

The majority thus treats creativity as a trifling part of the fair-use inquiry, in disregard of settled copyright principles and what they reflect about the artistic process. On the majority’s view, an artist had best not attempt to market even a transformative follow-on work—one that adds significant new expression, meaning, or message. That added value (unless it comes from critiquing the original) will no longer receive credit under factor 1. And so it can never hope to outweigh factor 4’s assessment of the copyright holder’s interests. The result will be what this Court has often warned against: suppression of “the very creativity which [copyright] law is designed to foster.” Stewart, 495 U. S., at 236; see. And not just on the margins. Creative progress unfolds through use and reuse, framing and reframing: One work builds on what has gone before; and later works build on that one; and so on through time. Congress grasped the idea when it directed courts to attend to the “purpose and character” of artistic