Plagiarism is a dangerous word that should be carefully understood not only by artists but by the general public so that we can avoid irresponsible accusations,” says Ferdinand Cacnio, who has claimed to have never seen the work of Stienstra, let alone have gone to the Netherlands. “So much is at stake. But my conscience is clear,” he says. “I did not copy. My body of works is proof of the clarity of my aesthetic objectives and my integrity.”
While Lei Azarcon was not the first to comment about the similarity of the two works, it was her post — which had been largely publicized by local media — that had placed a photo of “Uplift” side by side with Stienstra’s work. It was also the first that implied the possibility of the concept being copied.
“I never intended the post to be viral,” clarifies Azarcon. “I just wanted to share what I observed and what intrigued me.” Azarcon, who clarifies that her post “was not an accusation of plagiarism,” merely intended it to be “a humorous jab at the perceived similarities between the two.”
Nonetheless, Cacnio’s “Uplift” is now the most discussed local work, launching debates on plagiarism in the art world.
The sculpture, dubbed by media as the female counterpart of Guillermo Tolentino’s “Oblation,” was a project of the UP Class of 1985 Council, one which started in 2010, in time for the Council’s Silver Jubilee. Dot Ramos Balasbas-Gancayco, an Intellectual Property lawyer and an officer of the council, served as Cacnio’s model for the face of “Uplift.”
“For seven long years, we worked hard to get the best location, to get sponsors for the funding of the seven-foot statue,” says Balasbas-Gancayco, who firmly stands by the sculptor and believes in the integrity of his project. “As an Intellectual Property lawyer, it is in incumbent upon me to prevent infringement. I am also an artist. I will never allow myself to be used for a work that infringes upon another artist’s copyright.”
Despite persistent claims of Cacnio, his family, and his supporters to not have copied the work of Stienstra, various individuals across social media platforms still insist on the accusation. One of which, Thom Puckey, who claims to be Stienstra’s husband, relayed Stienstra’s opinon that the work was clearly plagiarized. Puckey writes, “The principle of her work (made in 2001) is to use sculptural conventions to suggest weightlessness. Mr. Cacnio’s sculpture does not only imitate her idea in general terms, but also in specific terms: the long hanging hair, the falling-back head, the outstretched arms, the outstretched body.”
Stienstra’s body of work consists of sculptures depicting the female form: whole, strained, or fragmented. “Virgins of Apeldoorn,” a public installation in a park in Netherlands, is a series of three figures seemingly hanging in mid-air — presenting three women (or three sides of the same persona) being levitated in their sleep.
Cacnio’s and Stienstra’s sculptures are both public installations in a park, showing the nude female figure, either partially or wholly. Like most sculptures have done before them, both play with concepts of weight and weightlessness: employing the heaviest of mediums to illustrate the idea of levitation. With both employing the body as a subject, it projects the idea of a corporeal form, either aspiring to or animated by an abstract, otherworldly force. Then again, however, these concepts are not exactly new in art.
The materials and the construction of the sculptures are the most apparent differences between the two. Cacnio has utilized brass, while Stienstra has used bronze. The subject of defying gravity, however, is given more focus through the construction of Cacnio’s work. “Uplift” balances only on a single point: her hair which reaches to the ground. Stienstra’s is supported by both the hair and the blanket which partially veils the body.
As Cacnio pointed out, the construction of his sculpture references his dancer sculptures in the mid-2000s. With a background in Civil Engineering, Cacnio wanted to create figures in mid-dance, exploring the spectacle of balance.
While both pieces are situated in a park, “Uplift” was modeled after Cacnio’s smaller sculpture which was made back in 2007: a piece called “UP to You,” made for UP’s then exhibit following the theme of nudes.
With regard to how the woman’s body is depicted, Cacnio’s, in gold, is charged with more sensuality. It adheres to conventions of the idealized female figure while “The Virgins of Appeldoorn” does not. The poses or positions assumed by the two figures likewise give different implications. “The Virgins of Appeldoorn” depicts bodies unconsciously being lifted from bed, while “UPLift,” intended by its sculptor to symbolize learning and enlightenment, illustrates individual agency. The gestures of the woman suggest that she is rising on her own.
While the nuances vary, Azarcon’s “humorous jab” still rings sharp and potent: Couldn’t Cacnio have copied the concept and simply changed the details?
Needless to say also that the idea of levitation in sculpture has been executed many times over in the tradition. It may well be that Cacnio has not seen the “Virgins of Appeldoorn” prior to his work’s creation, but it’s still possible that Azarcon pointed out the wrong reference, and Cacnio may have copied from somewhere else.
Balasbas-Gancayco comes to his defense, “A distinction should be made between an idea and the expression of an idea. An idea cannot be the subject of a copyright. No artist can claim ownership over the idea of a floating or levitating man or woman… This is precisely one of the reasons why copyright laws will not allow ideas or concepts to be claimed by anyone. Only the concrete expression of an idea can be protected.”
More than before, it may be naïve to say that art runs on the foundation of great thinking. While there is no law protecting the ownership of a concept, this opens up more questions and problems in the art world. How universal does an idea need to be to lend itself freely to countless executions? Or rather how commonplace and cliché must it be to be branded as universal? How far can artists forego originality, in favor of endless appropriation? Or is originality now the great abstract ideal we all try and fail to aspire to?