Christopher C. “Rusty” Close

For sports fans, certain moments are etched in memory, like Sid Bream sliding into home to clinch the pennant or Kelee Ringo’s interception to seal a national championship. Even celebratory dances, like Ickey Woods’ “Ickey Shuffle,” become part of the sport’s cultural legacy. These are sequences of planned and unplanned movements, which leads us to ask a question concerning intellectual property law: Can a coach’s football play be copyrighted? The answer, as with many IP issues, relies upon the distinction between a creative, fixed work and a purely functional, evolving activity. While the Ickey Shuffle might find protection in the eyes of the law, the play call that leads to the touchdown likely will not.

The practice of music sampling, which is the integration of pre-recorded sounds into new musical gestures, experienced a golden, unregulated age in the late 1980s that is almost unimaginable today. Major works like Public Enemy’s It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back (1988) and De La Soul’s 3 Feet High and Rising (1989) layered dozens of samples on a single track, while massive commercial hits like Tone-L?c’s “Wild Thing” (1988) openly lifted core musical elements.

For many guitarists, finding the right tone is a lifelong pursuit. It’s the quest for the perfect sound—a sound controlled not only by the guitar or the amplifier but also by the complex chain of electronics connecting them. Central to this are the effects pedals, and few pedals have the same mythical status as the Klon Centaur. This legendary pedal, built by guitarist and designer Bill Finnegan in the 1990s, was the subject of a recent trademark lawsuit that drew a line between a respectful “klone” (often spelled with a “K”) and an infringing counterfeit.

Hollywood has a long history of building on success, which is why every television season brings a new wave of familiar teen dramas and medical shows, and why the “Law & Order” universe now includes more than half a dozen interconnected series. While these shows often borrow from the same bucket of typical genre tropes, the line between inspiration and infringement can sometimes lead to court cases.

Does owning a piece of property give you the absolute right to alter or remove any art that’s on it? That question was asked in the recent, high-profile dispute in Manhattan over the Elizabeth Street Garden, a public space beloved by residents that was transformed from a once-abandoned city lot into a sculpture-filled garden three decades ago. The city planned to demolish the garden to build affordable housing for seniors. In response, the garden’s advocates filed a federal lawsuit in February 2025, arguing the entire garden was a “physical and social sculpture” protected from destruction by the Visual Artists Rights Act (VARA).