Law Offices of Anthony Carbone guide for creative artists

The stage lights are still warm, the paint on the flats smells faintly of glue, and someone in the back row is arguing about sightlines. You are trying to remember cue 42, keep the director calm, fix a broken LED strip, and now there is a contract in your inbox asking you to “assign all rights in all media, known or unknown.”

So here is the short version, before your next tech rehearsal eats your evening: if you create anything for a stage, an immersive room, a gallery, a projection wall, a sound field, or a walk-through story world, you need to treat your work as property, not a favor. You should know what rights you keep, what you license, who carries the risk when someone gets hurt, how you get paid (and when), and what happens when something breaks, infringes, or goes viral. Lawyers who work with creative people, like the team at the Law Offices of Anthony Carbone, exist for exactly this intersection: where art, contracts, physical spaces, and human bodies collide.

The rest of this guide slows down and walks through the legal side of creative work, with a focus on set design, immersive theater, and experimental art projects that live in real, physical spaces. It may not be glamorous, but it is how you keep the work alive, keep yourself safe, and actually get paid.

Why creative artists need a “boring” legal plan

If you work in immersive theater or large art installations, your projects sit in a strange blend of worlds: theater, architecture, product design, theme-park engineering, hospitality, sometimes nightlife. That mix is exciting. It also means there are many points where things can go wrong.

Some common pressure points:

• Unclear ownership of designs, models, and concepts
• Unpaid invoices or “exposure” deals that never pay off
• Safety incidents in dark rooms, uneven flooring, or stunt-heavy shows
• Fights over who gets credit when a piece blows up on social media
• Confusion about who holds the copyright for a collaborative work

If you do not think about law until something breaks or someone gets hurt, you enter the fight with no armor. A bit of planning, some clear contracts, and basic understanding of your rights can make a huge difference.

The project is temporary, but the contracts, injuries, and copyrights can last for years. Plan for the long tail even when the show is short.

You probably do not need to become a lawyer. But you can get familiar with a few key areas so you know when to say, “I am not signing this yet,” or, “This needs to go to a lawyer.”

Ownership: who really “owns” the world you build?

Most creative conflicts start with one basic question: who owns this thing we built?

For set designers, installation artists, projection designers, or immersive creators, there are different layers of creative material:

• Concept sketches, mood boards, and story outlines
• 3D models, CAD drawings, and scale maquettes
• Finished set pieces, props, and physical builds
• Digital content like projections, soundscapes, and code
• Photos and videos documenting the work

Copyright usually protects “original works of authorship” that are fixed in a tangible form. Your drawings, CAD files, and scripts qualify. The built set sometimes sits in a gray area, since it can be treated like architecture or a useful object, but your documented designs are still protected.

Where artists often trip is not in the law itself, but in what they have signed away.

Work for hire vs licensing your work

Many contracts in theater and commercial art call the work “work made for hire.” It sounds routine. It is not always in your interest.

In a pure “work for hire” setup, the client or producer is the legal author from day one. You may lose the right to:

• Rebuild or adapt your own design for a different project
• Sell prints, images, or derivative works
• Show certain process materials in your portfolio

Sometimes “work for hire” makes sense. If you join a company as an employee, the law already points that way. But for many freelance designers or installation artists, a license makes more sense.

Before you sign: ask yourself whether you want the right to reuse, adapt, or show this work later. If the answer is yes, you probably do not want a pure work-for-hire deal.

A license can be:

• Exclusive for a time such as one year in a specific city
• Non-exclusive so you can reuse your own design elsewhere
• Limited by medium such as live performance only, not merchandise or streaming
• Limited by territory such as North America only

If the client insists on full ownership, that can be a negotiation point on fee. Total ownership is not the same as a normal project. It usually should cost more.

Collaborations and collective authorship

Immersive theater often blurs credit lines. Maybe:

• The director suggested a structural concept
• You made the models
• The lighting designer added key visual gestures
• A fabricator “solved” engineering problems with creative choices

In law, this can sometimes turn into “joint authorship,” where two or more creators share equal rights in a work. That sounds fair, but it can create headaches if:

• One collaborator later reuses the work without asking others
• People disagree about licenses, fees, or derivative works

Many conflicts could be avoided with one plain-language agreement between key creatives before serious work begins. That agreement does not need legal jargon. It just needs clear answers to questions like:

• Who owns what part of the work?
• Can each person reuse their own ideas in future projects?
• Who gets paid if the project is revived or remounted?
• How is credit handled on websites, playbills, and press?

It might feel awkward to bring this up in a room full of friends. But avoiding the talk can be worse when the project succeeds.

Contracts that actually match how artists work

Contracts often feel long, dry, and designed for corporate deals, not for people juggling day jobs, rehearsals, and overnight build calls. Yet written agreements are how you keep your projects from turning into slow disasters.

Here are some contract sections that matter more than they look.

Scope of work: what are you actually doing?

The “scope” is where you define:

• What you will create
• What is not your job
• How many revisions are included
• How change requests are handled

With set or installation design, scope creep is almost guaranteed. The space changes. The fire marshal steps in. The producer has a new sponsor who wants a different logo wall. If your contract does not say how changes affect your fee and schedule, you end up eating that time.

You can keep this simple, for example:

The base fee covers up to two rounds of design revisions after the initial presentation. Further changes, or major shifts in concept, will require a new fee agreed in writing.

That single paragraph can save you from endless unpaid tweaks.

Payment terms that reflect reality

Late payment is one of the most common complaints among artists. You probably know the pattern:

• You front time and sometimes materials
• The show opens
• The producer avoids emails about the last installment

A better payment schedule ties money to milestones, not to vague promises. For example:

You might choose different numbers, but the logic is the same. You should not be carrying all the risk until opening night.

You can also ask for:

• Late payment fees or interest after a set number of days
• Right to pause work if payments fall behind
• Clear rules on reimbursable expenses and material costs

Credit and documentation

In immersive and set-based work, future jobs often come from photos, press, and word of mouth. So credit is not just “nice to have.” It is part of how you get your next fee.

Your contract can include:

• Exact credit language to use in programs and websites
• Permission for you to photograph the work and share on your portfolio, with reasonable limits for spoilers during a run
• A request to be tagged or mentioned in official social channels where practical

This may feel minor compared to money and rights, but it shapes your long-term career.

When physical space meets liability: staying safe in immersive work

If a show lives in physical space, legal risk lives there too.

Immersive theater, escape rooms, large installations, walkway projections, and site-specific performances often involve:

• Dark or low light passages
• Uneven flooring, ramps, or stairs
• Interactive props that guests can touch or move
• Fog, projections, or sound effects that change perception
• Confined spaces or sudden movement

All of that is ripe for accidents. When someone falls, has a panic attack, or gets hit by a swinging prop, people start asking who is legally responsible.

Who carries the risk when things go wrong?

Responsibility usually ties back to:

• Property owners
• Event producers or companies
• Designers or builders who created defective or unsafe elements

If you are an independent designer or builder, you might be named in a lawsuit if someone argues that your design or construction was unsafe. That is where legal counseling from firms like the Law Offices of Anthony Carbone can be useful, because they deal with personal injury, premises accidents, and questions about who was negligent.

Even if you never face a claim, thinking through safety early can protect both your audience and your sanity.

Practical safety habits for immersive creators

These are not legal rules, but they help reduce risk:

• Design clear, lit egress paths even in otherwise dark rooms
• Avoid trip hazards in high-traffic zones
• Mark steps with tape or low lighting where possible
• Keep props that can injure people locked or supervised
• Use materials that meet local fire codes and know where extinguishers are

You can also ask the producer or venue about:

• Liability insurance coverage
• Whether you are named as an “additional insured” on their policy
• Any safety inspections required by the city or fire department

If a contract asks you to “indemnify” the client, it usually means you promise to cover certain losses if your work causes harm. This can be fair in narrow cases, but it is risky if written too broadly. That is one of the places where a lawyer’s review is not overkill.

Using other people’s material in your sets and installations

You probably work in a collage of influences. Maybe you want to:

• Project clips from old films
• Cover a wall with printed internet imagery
• Use popular music in a sound tunnel
• Incorporate existing furniture designs or branded objects

Creative borrowing is natural. Legal borrowing has rules.

Copyright basics for borrowed material

If you are using:

• Music
• Film or TV footage
• Photos or illustrations
• Text longer than short quotes

You often need permission unless the material is in the public domain or your use falls under an exception such as “fair use.” Fair use is not a simple checklist. It is a set of factors like purpose, amount used, and market effect. People sometimes assume their use is safe because it is “educational,” “small,” or “nonprofit.” Those labels alone are not solid shields.

If your show charges tickets, runs for weeks, and uses long clips of commercial songs, you are probably in licensing territory, not fair use territory.

Set pieces, product design, and trademarks

Sometimes the issue is not copyright, but trademarks or trade dress. For example:

• A room that copies the overall look of a well known branded store
• Props that feature logos without permission
• Advertising your show using a name confusingly close to a known brand

These can trigger complaints from brand owners. That may feel harsh, but from their side they are trying to prevent confusion or dilution.

You do not have to scrub all references from your work. But where you build an entire environment around one recognizable brand look or logo, consider:

• Parody and critique require careful framing
• Original visual ideas reduce your legal risk and can be more interesting

Protecting your own work beyond a single project

You may care most about the current show, because the opening is next week, and you still need to finish a portal arch that keeps sagging. But your legal rights often matter more over time than on day one.

Registering your copyrights

In many countries, you own copyright the moment you create and fix your work in a tangible form. Still, registration can have benefits, such as:

• Public record showing you as the owner
• Stronger tools if you need to enforce your rights in court

For set design and immersive work, you might register things like:

• Design drawings and model photos
• Scripts or story bibles
• Original sound design recordings

This does create paperwork. But for large projects or distinctive styles that you use often, it may be worth the effort.

Non disclosure and early concept sharing

In the early phase of a new immersive show or installation, you may share:

• Mood boards and sketches
• Process decks with potential partners
• Drafts of original interaction concepts

There is a risk that a producer passes on your pitch, then later builds something that looks very similar with another team. Sometimes that is coincidence, sometimes not.

An NDA, or non disclosure agreement, will not guarantee fair behavior, but it creates a clearer boundary and a paper trail. It says, in effect, “What I am showing you is not free material to reuse without my consent.”

You have to balance how much friction you want in early creative conversations. Some people are casual. Others ask for NDAs before sharing decks. There is no single correct answer, but you should at least make a conscious choice, not just trust the room because everyone feels friendly.

Working with producers, theaters, and brands without losing yourself

The legal side is not just about fighting. It is also about shaping relationships. Many artists underestimate how much power they have at the beginning of a project.

You might think, “If I push back on this contract, I will lose the job.” That is sometimes true. But sometimes the person on the other side expects you to read and negotiate. They may even respect you more for it.

Reading contracts like a practical person, not a lawyer

You do not need to decode every clause. Focus on key questions:

• What exactly am I promising to deliver?
• Who owns what at the end?
• How and when do I get paid?
• How can this agreement end early, and what happens if it does?
• What risks or damages am I agreeing to cover?

If a clause sounds broad or vague, like “Artist is responsible for any and all claims arising out of the project,” pause. That “any and all” can be wide.

You can respond with simple language such as, “This clause feels too broad. I can be responsible for my own negligence in design and construction, but not for all possible claims.”

If the other side refuses all changes, you then have a clear choice: accept that level of risk or walk away. At least you are not walking into it blind.

Balancing creative freedom with legal structure

There is a fear that once lawyers enter a project, it will become stiff, safe, and boring. Sometimes legal review can be heavy handed, but often it can clear the way for more risk within a safe frame. For instance:

• A stunt designer works with a legal team to define safe limits for audience interaction
• A venue’s insurance requirements push you to rethink a ladder-based set as a ramp, which ends up more accessible and visually clean

So there is a tension, but not always a negative one. A clearly structured project can let you push into emotional and sensory risk while keeping physical and financial risk controlled.

Practical examples from immersive and set-based work

To make this less abstract, here are some rough scenarios and how legal thinking shapes them.

Example 1: The pop-up immersive maze

A team designs a 3-week immersive maze in a warehouse. The environment includes crawl tunnels, fog, and low light.

Questions that show up:

• Does the rental contract for the warehouse cover audience injury, or only damage to the building?
• Are designers and builders named on the event’s insurance policy?
• Is there a clear evacuation plan and signage, even if the aesthetic is “lost in the dark”?
• Who owns the modular wall system after the show? Can it be reused under a different project name?

Thinking about these in month one is easier than defending them in month six if someone gets injured.

Example 2: A long running immersive theater show

You design an intricate multi room environment for a ticketed show that runs multiple seasons.

Some issues that can arise:

• Revival fees: do you get paid again if the show extends or remounts in another city?
• Maintenance: who is responsible for repairs to set pieces as they wear down?
• Photography and filming: can the company shoot a film version using your designs without further payment?
• Merch: can your visuals appear on posters, apparel, or books without a new license?

Many designers do not address these questions up front. Years later, they realize the show is still running, but their contract only paid a one time fee with no revival or reuse terms. That sting can last.

Example 3: Brand partnership installation

A brand sponsors a large interactive sculpture in a public plaza. You handle the creative direction and design. The brand hires a separate fabricator.

You might need clarity on:

• Who is credited as “artist” versus “presented by” sponsor
• Who owns the physical sculpture after the event
• Whether the brand can adapt your concept for their next global campaign
• Who responds to press questions about the piece’s meaning

Without a clear agreement, the sponsor might treat your concept as their property to twist and reuse. With a strong contract, you can protect your authorship while still benefiting from the visibility and fee.

Where a law office actually fits into your creative life

You might still feel that lawyers are for “later,” for when something goes really wrong. That is one possible approach, but it often costs more, in stress and money. Seeing a lawyer once in a calm moment can be much cheaper than scrambling during a crisis.

Some practical points where contacting a firm like the Law Offices of Anthony Carbone can make sense:

• A serious injury occurs at a show or installation you worked on
• You are being asked to sign a very broad release of liability
• You are served with a complaint or legal notice
• You suspect a client has reused your work in a way that harms your rights or income
• You want a standard contract template for your future design work

A good legal advisor can also help you decide when a fight is worth it. Not every infringement, late payment, or messy credit line justifies a lawsuit. Sometimes a letter does enough. Sometimes a quiet compromise is wiser than public drama. The point is to have choices, grounded in real knowledge, not just frustration.

Common questions artists in immersive and set work ask

Q: Do I really need a written contract for every small project?

A: For a one-night reading with cardboard props, maybe not. But once you have real labor, materials, or safety issues in play, a written agreement is smart. The contract does not need to be 20 pages. Even a one page letter that covers scope, payment, ownership, and schedule is better than silence.

Q: What if a producer says “we never change this contract”?

A: That might be true for them. It does not mean you must accept it. You can weigh how much you want the project against the risks in the document. Sometimes they do bend once they see you care. Sometimes they do not. Walking away is painful, but it is sometimes less painful than working under terms that expose you to heavy risk or strip your rights entirely.

Q: How do I know when a legal problem is serious enough for a lawyer?

A: When money at stake is more than you can comfortably lose, or when injury, safety, or potential lawsuits appear, that is beyond casual advice territory. Also, if a contract includes long dense sections on indemnity, limitation of liability, arbitration, or waivers of rights, getting a lawyer to walk you through those is usually wise.

If you are losing sleep replaying a contract or a conflict in your head, that alone is a sign to get outside help. Peace of mind is also part of your fee.

Q: Can I just copy a contract template from a friend or the internet?

A: You can, but it may not reflect your specific work, your region, or your risk profile. Also, contracts built for software freelancers or generic consultants often fail to deal with physical spaces, injuries, and complex authorship questions that immersive work faces. A short session with a lawyer to adapt a template to your reality can pay off many times over.

Q: Is all this legal planning going to kill my creativity?

A: It might feel like that at first, mostly because it is new and not as emotionally rewarding as a sketchbook or a model. But once you have a basic set of tools and agreements that you reuse, they fade into the background. You stop fighting the same battles and have more energy for the art itself. The goal is not to drown your work in paperwork. The goal is to build a stable floor so you can take higher creative risks without falling through.