Fiona McCade: Getting it all wrong in row over image rights

So, he found a wartime photo of his grandad and had it printed on to a T-shirt. The friend was pleased (he thought it was “cool”), but bemused. “It’s great, but why did you use a photo of your grandad?” he asked. “Because I didn’t have any photos of yours,” came the reply.

I’m not keen on wearing photos of people I don’t know, but Tesco has no qualms about such things. The supermarket giant has been selling a line of children’s long-sleeved tops with a photo of a young woman on the front. Trouble is, that young woman is 22-year-old Aberdonian fashion student Nicola Kirkbride, and Nicola hadn’t a clue that her face was appearing across the chests of pre-teen girls throughout the UK.

Tesco is “looking into” the matter, but the fact remains that nobody contacted Nicola to ask if the retailer could use her image, which first appeared on her fashion blog – complete with a request that anybody wishing to use her original artwork should seek her permission.

Two questions occur to me about this. First, when the design department at Tesco was brainstorming its latest range, did nobody at the meeting say: “Who is this girl? Does anybody know her?” I suppose not, because if they had, the reply would have been: “No, we got her off the internet.” And then, assuming that all persons present were sane, someone would have inevitably inquired: “Is this in any way appropriate or legal?” In which case, none of this would have happened.

However, as I am no expert on copyright law, and am married to a man who likes to see people wearing pictures of his relatives, it’s the second question that intrigues me the most, and that is: why would anybody want a photo of an unknown, ordinary person on their T-shirt?

Call me fussy, but I like to know whose picture I’m wearing. After all, we tell our children not to talk to strangers, so why should we expect them to walk around displaying photos of people they’ve never met?

I just don’t like the idea of having unidentified and undistinguished people’s faces on my front. I don’t quite see the point. If I’ve been introduced, and I like the person, I might be persuaded. If the person is famous and I admire them, I might even be pleased to become a human billboard for their image.

I suppose that if the picture is of someone else’s war-hero grandad and that someone is so proud of his forebear, he goes out of his way to emblazon him on a T-shirt, I’d go along with the concept. It’s a bit of history, after all. But a total stranger? Isn’t that a bit weird?

Unless there’s a definite link, unless the image is of someone who has some sort of significance, I can’t see why anybody would want to buy something with someone else’s face on it.

Nicola Kirkbride’s experience of discovering herself on a piece of mass-produced clothing not only throws up questions about image copyright and protection, it also makes me wonder where we draw the line about what’s private and what isn’t. For instance, if I wore a T-shirt with Alex Salmond’s face on it, what would that say about me? That I was an SNP voter? That I was deeply ironic? That I was in need of psychiatric treatment?

Whatever the verdict, the fact is that Alex Salmond is a recognisable public figure. He has a public image. People who have never met him know of him. Now imagine that I wore a T-shirt bearing the image of Mrs Salmond. She’s a private individual. If I used a photo of her to decorate my clothing, wouldn’t that be slightly bizarre behaviour?

One thing’s for sure, if you see anybody wearing your face on their midriff without your permission, you have the right to object. I just hope my husband’s grandad never finds out about the T-shirt, or we could be looking at a very nasty court case indeed.