April 9, 2012

reprise: bad artists copy. great artists steal.

In light of recent posts about artistic license and copyright (Are We Pinning Yet? and More Pinning by Liz Kalloch), we thought we’d reprise Gwyn Michael’s post from June 2011 for yet another perspective.

For those not familiar, the title is actually a quote by Pablo Picasso and has to do with drawing inspiration from something while putting your touch on it. I guess he should know. Picasso is often attributed as the Father of Cubism when in reality he and Georges Braque worked together on the theory and were directly influenced by Cezanne, who had begun breaking up the picture plane in less abstract ways.

I have been sitting on this topic for some time now and a recent post from Bridget Pilloud brought it to the forefront. Bridget’s post is about outright stealing, using another’s content as one’s own. As a visual artist this is a sticky topic for me.

The thing is, I was accused of stealing from someone that used to be a friend. I had created some new photo collages based on an idea I had in college, after seeing her do something that reminded me of it. My images and hers were very different but both were made from buildings, different buildings (of course, no one has made art from buildings before). I credited her as an influence and she accused me of stealing outright. This, by the way, all happened on flickr where actual stealing is a regular event.

I don’t agree with her and I did not take it personally, but it made me think long and hard about how we are influenced. I could have turned it around and claimed she stole my college idea which was influenced by I don’t know what at that time. Instead I let it go, but the concept has been nagging me since.

What is originality in art?

In this age we are so bombarded with imagery (artistic and not), music, ideas, and plain old stuff that it is impossible for me to entertain the notion of true originality. That is not to say I can’t be uniquely creative in my interpretations, but that I have been influenced is not a question. The image above contains a painting by Piet Mondrian on the top left, one by Van Gogh top right, one of mine from 2003 bottom left, and a photo collage of mine from 2009. Trees all, but not the same, although there are comparisons one could make: the use of blue, red, and gold, the textural qualities, the patterns of branches. While I love Mondrian and Van Gogh’s trees, I can’t say I had either in mind when creating my trees, yet they are in my memory bank. My point is, how can we know how much is coming through as collective experience?

Is art simply a manifestation of memory?

Are “original” concepts simply the rearrangement of our perception of what we have seen, heard, felt, and experienced?

Seth Godin has this to say about originality:

I get two kinds of mail about this. One group points to organizations or individuals who are stealing my ideas. “Stop them!” they say. The other doesn’t hesitate to point out that I’ve never had an original idea in my life, and that I’m merely a promotional hack.

Now, more than ever, we can see the work an artist (in any medium, any endeavor) produces over time. If all an artist can do is steal, the truth will out. For the rest, though, a lifetime of consistent provocation, inspiration and generosity can’t help but shine through. Inspirations and all.

I think this is what Picasso means by “great artists steal.”

Great artists steal – they take the idea, theme or pattern and they make it their own. When you steal, you take away the whole thing – this particular idea no longer belongs to the original author. You take it apart, you figure out how it works and you put it together adding your own unique touches. Now it is yours and once you are done with it no one will even remember it used to belong to someone else. You started with something that was not yours, but the end product can no longer be called a copy, imitation or knock of because it stands on it’s own. You’ve successfully stolen something, and gotten away with it.
- Luke Maciak

If this is the case then why is it still such a sticky topic? In my case, I am not really concerned that my work will be copied. Posting everything I do on a website and elsewhere on the internet makes it unlikely it won’t be. Rather, it really upset me to be accused of stealing. I don’t know how one can clearly define the space between inspired work and out-right forgery. I like what Jim Jarmusch has to say:

Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don’t bother concealing your thievery – celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: “It’s not where you take things from – it’s where you take them to.”
— Jim Jarmusch

I think I can agree that originality is obscure at best, at least in the way it has been defined. Perhaps a new definition of originality can be created? Or maybe we can agree that “All creative work is derivative” and just get on with creating our art?

What does originality in your work mean to you?

How do you incorporate influence, inspiration, and experience in your work in new ways?

Filed Under: Conversation Starters, creative thinkers, creativity, Plot Notes Tagged With: , , , , , , 6 Comments
March 20, 2012

more pinning: an interview with kal barteski of link with love

another real-life pin board

A couple of weeks ago I wrote a post for Scoutie Girl about Pinterest and my growing concerns and unease about copyright infringement and image use. The Scoutie Girl* community showed up in a big way to discuss this, and there are comments, thoughts, and opinions that cover all sides of the issue. {You can read them here.}

There were a few themes that repeated throughout the comments: people who feel torn between wanting to respect the work of others and also their love for Pinterest; people who have either quit Pinterest or are leaning towards quitting; people who feel like it’s not really a big deal but who are also making a serious effort to link back to the original source of their pin; creators who are both flattered to see their work pinned, and utilising their visibility on Pinterest to promote their work; and others who feel that having a few images used or copied without permission is just the cost of doing business in our internet-driven world.

I, for one, hope the dialogue continues as we sort through the ins and outs of intellectual property rights and fair use, versus outright stealing and profiting from another’s work. Whether the conversation is centered around Pinterest, Tumblr, personal websites, etc, it’s all at issue and it’s all important as we move forward in a world that is largely dominated by the internet and how we use it.

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One person has been working for while now on just this topic, and this week I interviewed her. So without further ado, Kal Barteski: designer, illustrator, writer, poet, photographer, entrepreneur, and founder of Link with Love.

Liz Kalloch: What motivated you to start the Link with Love campaign, and how long has it been around?
Kal Barteski: I was inspired to start LINKwithlove.org in June 2011 after I found a series of my own pieces (as well as other artists’ pieces) being used inappropriately and for profit after being posted on Tumblr and Pinterest — without proper credits or links.

And let me be clear, when I say “used inappropriately” I mean they were posted one and a half million unlinked times on Tumblr, and being sold as prints, as t-shirts, as necklaces, as advertising. One image was even being used in porn. It wasn’t a matter of one piece being used one or two times — it was shocking and it was a wake up call for me.

There’s a person behind every photo, painting, word, recipe, poem, etc, and that tends to get lost in an age where the internet seems like a black hole of anonymous, easy, free material. Reckless sharing of intellectual property online is dangerous and unkind and we can make it better if we work together to remind each other of that.

The idea behind LINKwithlove is this: link to the creator/origin + spread the word that by being respectful + kind we make a better online experience.

LK: Without all the legal-ese and starchy lawyer talk, could you tell us what your understanding is about intellectual property rights?
KB: I’m not a lawyer. I’m an artist. My best understanding of intellectual property is this: if you didn’t create it, it’s not yours.

A good general rule is this: if you didn’t make/write/photograph/paint/create it, get permission before you use/share/post it. Creators are nice people who generally like to share and love to be asked. It creates relationships and connections. Wouldn’t it be amazing if we treated each other with respect and love?

LK: A little while back you started The Pinterest Project. What was its purpose?
KB: The Pinterest Project was simple: get an image optimized for the Pinterest visual scheme to be pinned enough times to create a conversation.

Image theft and misuse didn’t start with Pinterest but CHANGE needs to start somewhere.

I started with Pinterest because Pinterest is run by real, likeable people that seemed to me would have an innate understanding of how the wild sharing of images online affects real people. It affects different kinds of intellectual property in different ways.

I had the chance to meet Ben Silbermann at the ALT Summit design conference in Salt Lake City and he was genuine and kind. He listened to my case and stated that it was something that they understood to be a priority and were currently working on possible solutions.

The purpose of the Pinterest Project was to bring attention to the fact that Pinterest has a captive audience and could reach + teach + change the way people think about sharing. And linking. And being kind. However, the Pinterest Project ended up educating in an entirely different way — it brought the Pinterest Terms Of Service (TOS) to light and the discussion escalated.

It turns out that linking to the origin is incredibly important, but getting permission first is even more important. Pinterest TOS states that you can only post what you have the copyrights to, but you shouldn’t pin your own work because that’s self promotion. Which means there’s nothing you can pin without permission. But there’s a “Pin It” button next to nearly everything on the internet. So what the heck?

Also, it’s incorrect to assume that everyone wants their work to be shared in an environment like Pinterest. What about images under license agreements? Copyrighted work? Stock images? Photos of your children?

Pinterest’s TOS also states that when you pin something, Pinterest collects a full-sized copy and reserves the right to:

“an irrevocable, perpetual, non-exclusive, transferable, royalty-free license, with the right to sublicense, to use, copy, adapt, modify, distribute, license, sell, transfer, publicly display, publicly perform, transmit, stream, broadcast, access, view, and otherwise exploit”.

And if lawyers get involved it’s the original pinner who is responsible and who will be held liable. The Pinterest Project opened a whole bunch of eyes — especially mine.

LK: With all your work on LinkwithLove and then the Pinterest Project, did you ever try to speak with anyone at Pinterest about your concerns? If so, how did that go?
KB: Yes. I met briefly with Ben and he is very nice. I don’t feel like he understands the impact something like Pinterest is having on artists, designers, crafters, writers, etc. Or maybe it’s just not as big a priority as the new profile design, advertising, clicks, and company growth. I can’t answer for him.

LK: How would you respond to those people who say that if you put something on the internet it’s fair game, it’s open access and free?
KB: I’m not sure how to respond to that statement anymore. I’m pretty sure that copyright lawyers would disagree. I disagree. It is something I hear all the time and I wonder how we have gotten to that point. Is it fair game to walk into a book store and take books? To an art gallery to take paintings?

LK: As an artist who makes her life and her living with her art, how do you respond to people who say that a few stolen images are just the price you pay for getting exposure on the internet?
KB: Sadly, I would say that I understand and live the idea that a few stolen images are often the price you pay for being on the internet.

Pinterest has changed the game. “A few stolen images” has become a few images stolen hundreds of times. It has multiplied misuse. So, no, I don’t believe that giving art for free is the price you pay for being on the internet. The internet is made up of people and I believe what Maya Angelou said: “When you know better, you do better”.

It feels like there has been a shift in thinking. Not only are intellectual properties like art and ideas more accessible, but they’re being shared in ways that overlook the fact that there’s a creator behind the work. It’s misleading. It’s a clicking war for hits and dollars, which says to me that obviously, art must have value — otherwise it would not be shared at the rate it is being distributed.

But, what does this say about how we value creators of the images we so readily pin?

At the end of the day it makes my heart heavy to think that just because something has been shared on Pinterest, it is no longer in the owner’s control. Its fate is now in the hands of 11 million people and a corporation. That makes no sense to me and that’s why I deleted my Pinterest account. It doesn’t feel right to share like that.

LK: If Pinterest made some changes and did a better job of protecting creators’ intellectual property rights, would you re-join?
KB: No. If Pinterest made changes to their Terms of Service and took strides to educate people, I would feel optimistic. But so far, they’ve done little to engage the concerns of the community. They have a captive audience that spends big blocks of time on their site so they are in a prime spot for spreading the word and helping to educate people. But they’re not.

I am, however, encouraged by sites like FLICKR and Snapwidget who have responded promptly to the concerns of their users by taking the “Pin It” button off copyright protected materials.

LK: How is life post-Pinterest?
KB: Busy, beautiful, and full of new paintings.

Kal Barteski is an artist who paints, designs, photographs, and writes stuff. Every day and in all sorts of media. At the moment, she’s enthralled with the dramatic scripting of her sumi brush. But when she’s not painting letters she mixes it up with wildlife, abstract, and whatever else her heart desires. She’s an award-winning illustrator + graphic designer. She sees the bright side + finds it very beautiful. She won a Woman Entrepreneur of the Year award, published a book, and found out you don’t need much to live the life you dream. She’s a painter, dog-walker, mom, poet, and in her spare time she drinks too much coffee. You can find her on Twitter here: @kalbarteski

- – - – - – -

*I’d like to thank the Scoutie Girl community for leaving comments and responses to each others’ comments on the post “Are We Pinning Yet” that varied deeply in opinion, yet were written in the spirit of true and respectful dialogue.

The dialogue continues!

We are planning a virtual panel discussion on this issue for next month. Keep an eye out; we’ll announce the details soon!

Filed Under: Dialogue Tagged With: , , , , , , 10 Comments
March 7, 2012

are we pinning yet?

a real-life pin board in my studio

Imagine you are in a lovely, airy, high-ceilinged room. The lighting is perfect, not too bright and not too dim. There are comfy places to sit: couches, chairs, plush and cushiony rugs underfoot, pillows to recline on. There is tea and coffee, sparkling water with lime, the occasional cocktail, and snacks of every kind for every want and every taste. Every available wall space is covered with a pinboard. Each pinboard has a name and a reason for being. And each board is filled with beauty and colour and words and stories. All the stories I’ve ever wanted to hear, all the stories I’ve ever wanted to tell.

Yes, that’s how I’ve felt about Pinterest. It’s been lovely, like a dream. Beautiful in its clarity and its immediacy. It’s been lovely like the first days and weeks of a new love. Everything looks brighter, and better. Senses are heightened and aware. Happiness is everywhere.

And then, well . . . and then, things go back to the everyday, and though there is still immeasurable beauty and love and happiness, there are also some disconcerting feelings beginning to form around the periphery of my vision. Feelings like: Is he really for me, are we as compatible as I thought we were last week? Is he who he said he was, because his walk and his talk are feeling just a little bit out of step.

I accepted an invite from Pinterest sometime in late 2010 and didn’t really do anything with it until well into 2011, and at that point I fell. And fell hard. A dream, a hope that I never knew I had, was being answered: a place that I could keep track of favourite artists, favourite words, colours, design ideas, and clothes, anything and everything on the internet that inspired, provoked, healed, blossomed, and cultivated a feeling inside of me.

Pinterest is a place that is so richly visual, and functions like my own brain does {in pictures!} — so much more beautiful and inspiring than ye old Bookmark list on Firefox.

I started compiling ideas for my studio, for future changes in our home, pieces by favourite artists and illustrators and designers and photographers, colour, pattern design, and on and on and on. After the first of this year I started sharing some of my favourite Pinterest finds once a week on my blog.

And all the while I was feeling less and less sure about what I was doing, and less and less sure that all this pinning was really and truly OK.

I told myself that it was okay because I only linked directly to the original site, AND I typed the artist’s name and/or credit in the description field. I told myself that because I whole-heartedly support Kal Barteski’s campaign to Link {and pin} with Love, that people would know that my motives were pure and I wasn’t looking to steal work or infringe on anyone’s copyright.

But the thing is, that once I pin something, I have no control over where it goes, no control over where and how someone else will re-pin, and no control over what Pinterest does with the image.

And the thing is that if you read Pinterest’s Terms of Use section, they have set it up so that they have no liability for copyright infringement, but we the pinners do {memories of Napster anyone?}.

If I had that airy, perfectly lit room, big enough to house all the pin boards with places to sit and look over what I had pinned, and gather and talk with friends about what was inspiring me today, I think I would still be as deeply in love with Pinterest as I was at the start.

But my boards are not set up in the privacy of my home, and they are visited by lots and lots of people that I don’t know, and I have pinned the work of other artists and writers and creators and not gotten their direct permission.

So, what to do with my Pinterest account?

One option is to keep my account but take down all the boards that show other artists’ work and thereby use Pinterest as a “shopping” board.

  • Pin only things found in online catalogues and sites that are selling their wares {because I’m hoping that places like West Elm aren’t going to mind that I pin one of their couches}.
  • Pin things that my friends are making (after asking them), and, of course, never pin anything that I make since that is not condoned {per Pinterest’s Pinning Etiquette}. Though come to think of it, that’s ironic since my stuff is really the only stuff that I have any legal rights to pin.

Or, keep my account as it is and:

  • Spend a fair amount of my time tracking down and contacting artists and artist representatives to see if they are OK with me pinning their stuff. And, honestly, given my lack of extra time, that is probably not going to happen.

Last option:

  • Delete my account altogether.

And that’s where I feel torn. I am still in love, and yet, my love is not feeling like all I’d hoped he’d be. If I take down all the inspiration, then that defeats the purpose of my account, ‘cuz really, do I want to spend time making visual shopping lists? It will lose its appeal pretty quickly.

Quite a few people have publicly discontinued their accounts with Pinterest, and some talk about their reasons why, and how they came to their decision.

People have written about copyright infringement and some deeper issues that involve easier ways to steal because Pinterest is storing full size images of everything that is pinned, on their servers. Full sized, not thumbnails.

I have also had conversations with friends who are coders and web developers and their stance is that the internet is all about open access, that if you put it up on the web it’s fair game, and that is one aspect of how the internet started.

So, how are you feeling about Pinterest?

Are you feeling that it’s fine and don’t think all the current hoopla is going to amount to much? Have you thought about what you’re pinning and where it’s sourced from? Have you had your work pinned and not credited to you, OR credited to someone else, OR printed from a pin and sold at a profit by someone else? I’d love to hear how you’re feeling about this one, because it affects all of us who have content on the internet these days.

Filed Under: Buy You, For You, creating action, creative thinkers Tagged With: , , , , , , , 40 Comments
June 27, 2011

“bad artists copy. great artists steal.”

For those not familiar, the title is actually a quote by Pablo Picasso and has to do with drawing inspiration from something while putting your touch on it. I guess he should know. Picasso is often attributed as the Father of Cubism when in reality he and Georges Braque worked together on the theory and were directly influenced by Cezanne, who had begun breaking up the picture plane in less abstract ways.

I have been sitting on this topic for some time now and a recent post from Bridget Pilloud brought it to the forefront. Bridget’s post is about outright stealing, using another’s content as one’s own. As a visual artist this is a sticky topic for me.

The thing is, I was accused of stealing from someone that used to be a friend. I had created some new photo collages based on an idea I had in college, after seeing her do something that reminded me of it. My images and hers were very different but both were made from buildings, different buildings (of course, no one has made art from buildings before). I credited her as an influence and she accused me of stealing outright. This, by the way, all happened on flickr where actual stealing is a regular event.

I don’t agree with her and I did not take it personally, but it made me think long and hard about how we are influenced. I could have turned it around and claimed she stole my college idea which was influenced by I don’t know what at that time. Instead I let it go, but the concept has been nagging me since.

What is originality in art?

In this age we are so bombarded with imagery (artistic and not), music, ideas, and plain old stuff that it is impossible for me to entertain the notion of true originality. That is not to say I can’t be uniquely creative in my interpretations, but that I have been influenced is not a question. The image above contains a painting by Piet Mondrian on the top left, one by Van Gogh top right, one of mine from 2003 bottom left, and a photo collage of mine from 2009. Trees all, but not the same, although there are comparisons one could make: the use of blue, red, and gold, the textural qualities, the patterns of branches. While I love Mondrian and Van Gogh’s trees, I can’t say I had either in mind when creating my trees, yet they are in my memory bank. My point is, how can we know how much is coming through as collective experience?

Is art simply a manifestation of memory?

Are “original” concepts simply the rearrangement of our perception of what we have seen, heard, felt, and experienced?

Seth Godin has this to say about originality:

I get two kinds of mail about this. One group points to organizations or individuals who are stealing my ideas. “Stop them!” they say. The other doesn’t hesitate to point out that I’ve never had an original idea in my life, and that I’m merely a promotional hack.

Now, more than ever, we can see the work an artist (in any medium, any endeavor) produces over time. If all an artist can do is steal, the truth will out. For the rest, though, a lifetime of consistent provocation, inspiration and generosity can’t help but shine through. Inspirations and all.

I think this is what Picasso means by “great artists steal.”

Great artists steal – they take the idea, theme or pattern and they make it their own. When you steal, you take away the whole thing – this particular idea no longer belongs to the original author. You take it apart, you figure out how it works and you put it together adding your own unique touches. Now it is yours and once you are done with it no one will even remember it used to belong to someone else. You started with something that was not yours, but the end product can no longer be called a copy, imitation or knock of because it stands on it’s own. You’ve successfully stolen something, and gotten away with it.
- Luke Maciak

If this is the case then why is it still such a sticky topic? In my case, I am not really concerned that my work will be copied. Posting everything I do on a website and elsewhere on the internet makes it unlikely it won’t be. Rather, it really upset me to be accused of stealing. I don’t know how one can clearly define the space between inspired work and out-right forgery. I like what Jim Jarmusch has to say:

Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don’t bother concealing your thievery – celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: “It’s not where you take things from – it’s where you take them to.”
— Jim Jarmusch

I think I can agree that originality is obscure at best, at least in the way it has been defined. Perhaps a new definition of originality can be created? Or maybe we can agree that “All creative work is derivative” and just get on with creating our art?

What does originality in your work mean to you?

How do you incorporate influence, inspiration, and experience in your work in new ways?

Filed Under: Conversation Starters Tagged With: , , , , , 22 Comments
March 16, 2011

copycat creativity

A guest post by Mallory Whitfield.

copycat clips

Copy Cat snap clips by jackandjane

The idea of copycat creativity is one that pops up a lot in the DIY and handmade community.

Artists accuse other artists of stealing their ideas and remaking or selling them. Or worse yet, big companies with lots of money and big legal teams rip off the little guys, who find themselves in a position hard to defend from.

There are plenty of instances where artists legitimately HAVE copied from other artists, but sometimes I think accusations get thrown around when they really shouldn’t.

Here’s the thing: we’re all human, so our brains pretty much work in a similar fashion. (You know, unless you’re Charlie Sheen and happen to possess tiger blood and Adonis DNA.) Some people are naturally going to come up with similar ideas to what someone else has already done. Sometimes they might knowingly take inspiration from someone else, and yes, sometimes they might even purposefully rip off another artist or designer.

But unless you grew up in a cave and were never exposed to history or popular culture, I’d be hard pressed to believe that you’ve never come up with an idea that you thought was totally original, but that was actually subconsciously inspired by someone else’s idea first.

It happens all of the time in fashion – there are direct knockoffs of luxury items sold on street corners all over the world, but there are also trends that come back again and again, every few decade or so.

One of my favorite examples that I like to point out whenever this discussion comes up is one that was brought to my attention during my summers in theatre internships. Almost nothing Shakespeare ever wrote was totally original, plot-wise. But yet he is still possibly the most revered writer in all of history. His plot devices are not what we remember him for, and they are not what made a huge impact on the English language.

What was remarkable about Shakespeare is the WAY he crafted words.

The same can also be said for one of the most influential musical groups in history – The Beatles drew inspiration from all sorts of sources, but we remember them for the way they wove those inspirations together into new music.

About a month or so ago, inspiration came to me almost literally in a dream. Waking up one morning, I was struck with an idea for what I wanted my Mardi Gras costume to be. (Here in New Orleans, it’s just not Mardi Gras without a good costume!) I woke up thinking about a dress covered in stuffed animals. I went to the computer that morning, and tried searching for costumes and clothing made from stuffed animal parts. I was thinking, surely people have done this before, why can’t I find it? Maybe it’s just because I couldn’t think of a more specific way to type it into Google, and the thousands of results that came up were all irrelevant, but I really did have trouble finding anything like what I had in mind. So I decided to go for it, because even if someone HAD done it before, I knew it would be a fun costume to make and wear.

Later, as I started dropping hints about what I was doing on my Facebook page and to people I knew, others thought they knew the inspiration behind my costume, even though none were my intention. Someone referenced Lady Gaga and the episode of Glee where Rachel’s two dads make her a dress out of Beanie Babies to wear for their Lady Gaga rendition. On Mardi Gras day, multiple people thought my costume was a tribute to artist Mike Kelley, who is known for his work with stuffed animals. None of this was on my mind when I started, but to me it just goes to show that there are only so many possibilities for what we as humans are going to dream up.

Even if you THINK you have something truly original, chances are, someone, somewhere, sometime has already done or thought of it.

This isn’t to say that there aren’t still plenty of intentional copycats out there, because there are. But next time you’re ready to call someone out as a copycat, just remember:

you may be a unique and special snowflake, but all snowflakes are made from the same ingredients, so chances are you might not be quite as special as you think.

Mallory Whitfield is a proud resident of New Orleans, Louisiana, where she runs a blog and online shop, both called Miss Malaprop and both dedicated to the very best in handmade and eco-friendly goods. She also designs recycled clothing, accessories, and costumes, including the now infamous FEMA blue tarp dress.

Filed Under: creativity, Featured, guest posts Tagged With: , 43 Comments