The Art of Destruction: Shrigley’s ‘1984’ from ‘The Da Vinci Code’ and the Moral Rights Debate

In a twist of artistic inspiration, Turner Prize-nominated artist David Shrigley embarked on a unique endeavour in 2017. The catalyst? An Oxfam shop in Swansea refusing copies of Dan Brown’s best-seller, “The Da Vinci Code.” Shrigley, ever unconventional, seized this moment and set out to collect over 6,000 copies of the book, transforming them into George Orwell’s iconic novel, “1984”, a project culminating in October 2023.

Shrigley learned that under UK copyright law, Orwell’s works, including “1984”, entered the public domain in 2020, releasing them from copyright protection 70 years after the author’s 1950 passing. This legal groundwork allowed the artist to create a limited edition of 1,000 copies of “1984”. Each of Shrigley’s reimagined “1984” copies, personally signed and numbered, held a unique touch — fragments of the original “The Da Vinci Code” remained on the pages, preserving snippets of Robert Langdon’s adventures. The typeface even mirrored the first edition of Brown’s work.

Come October 2023, 1,250 copies of Shrigley’s creation hit the market. The first 250, labelled “exclusive,” were priced at £495 in the same Oxfam shop that ignited the project, while the remaining 1,000 were available on his website at a “tier 2 price” of £795. The seemingly high cost aimed to justify the meticulous and creative investment poured into this extraordinary project.

While Shrigley’s artistic project brilliantly blended literature and artistry, it also sparks intriguing questions. To reimagine “The Da Vinci Code” as “1984”, Shrigley frankly destroyed Dan Brown’s work, prompting us to ponder the potential violation of the writer’s moral rights.

The term “moral rights”, as used here, is derived from its French counterpart, droit moral, as the English copyright system initially lacked a comparable concept. In essence, moral rights are a set of non-economic rights that emphasise the personal connection between an author and their creation. These rights grant authors certain privileges, such as the right to be recognised as the creator (right of paternity) and the right to object to any modification that might damage their honour or reputation (right of integrity).

In the UK, while the author has the right to protect the integrity of their work, the law does not explicitly prevent it from being destroyed. The act of destruction raises the question: can something that no longer exists impact a creator’s honour or reputation?

A historical example of art destruction is Graham Sutherland’s portrait of Winston Churchill. Commissioned to commemorate the Prime Minister’s 80th birthday in 1954, the final piece, however, failed to meet Churchill’s approval. The portrait was meant to hang in the Houses of Parliament after Churchill’s death but was instead given to him personally. In 1978, Lady Spencer-Churchill reportedly destroyed the painting to spare her late husband’s distress. Over 60 decades after its obliteration, this incident remains etched in history as one of the greatest losses to the art world.

Very few countries incorporate safeguards against the destruction of art within the framework of copyright law. The United States, the home country of Dan Brown, has some legal protection in place. The Visual Artists Rights Act (VARA) grants artists the right to object to the destruction of certain works. In a 2020 case involving the whitewashing of graffiti at “5Pointz“, the developer was ordered to pay damages to graffiti artists. However, the VARA has a limited coverage that only applies to “works of visual art”, such as “a painting, drawing, print, or sculpture, existing in a single copy, in a limited edition of 200 copies or fewer that are signed and consecutively numbered by the author”. This limitation leaves Dan Brown’s “The Da Vinci Code” beyond the purview of the VARA.

Another country that confronted a comparable issue is India. In 1959, the Union Government of India commissioned sculptor Amar Nath Sehgal to create a monumental mural for Vigyan Bhawan, a government venue. The mural, measuring 40 feet in height and 140 feet in length, depicted scenes of Indian life and was widely acclaimed. However, during a renovation of Vigyan Bhawan, the mural was removed and stored away, deeply distressing Sehgal.

Sehgal filed a lawsuit against the government, asserting that the dismemberment of the mural, the damage to his artistic reputation, and the obliteration of his name on the work violated his moral rights as an artist. After a lengthy legal battle, Justice Pradeep Nandrajog of the Delhi High Court ruled in favour of Sehgal and imposed damages of Rs. 500,000 on the government. Though there were further legal proceedings, the matter was eventually resolved amicably. Sehgal waived the damages claim, and in exchange, the mural was returned to him.

Shrigley’s project poses a fundamental query: should we endorse the destruction of art if it paves the way for new creativity? Picasso’s aphorism, “Every act of destruction is first an act of creativity”, hints at the prospect of innovation from the destruction of the old. While Shrigley’s artistic endeavour is commendable, the same sentiment might not be extended if Van Gogh’s “The Starry Night” were sacrificed to birth a new masterpiece.