INTRODUCTION
In 2016, LeBron James was hit with a lawsuit, not for his game-winning dunks, but about who owned the art inked on his body. Around the globe[1], Rihanna’s intricate arm art[2] and Hrithik Roshan’s signature back tattoo[3] were being reproduced on merchandise and digital platforms. Suddenly, the world noticed a crazy legal loophole: the skin you walk around in might not actually belong to you when it comes to the art This ripped open one of the most bizarre yet fascinating questions of modern law: who owns a tattoo, the superstar showing off the ink, or the tattoo artist who spent hours designing it? Welcome to the murky, fascinating crossroads of body, art, and law.
Tattoos have long transcended tribal identity or rebellion; tattoos have evolved into a burgeoning creative industry that’s billions of dollars strong[4]. But where creativity and skin collide, ownership, self-expression, and exploitation all collide. With Indian tattoo culture on the rise and Western copyright lawsuits adding up, silence on this front in Indian law feels deafening.
LEGAL ANATOMY OF A TATTOO
Tattoos under the Copyright Act of India, 1957[5], are “artistic works” only if they are original and physically expressed. Tattoos meet both facets on being artistic and permanent. However, the real debate comes after the setting of the ink: who has the copyright: the artist who designed it or the person on whose body it was used as canvas? Section 17 of the Copyright Act[6] assigns default ownership to the artist unless it’s a case of work-for-hire or commissioned works under special arrangements. How prevalent then are written transfer agreements on ownership among tattooed clients? Not very, it’s the copyright owner, legally, in the scenario of the tattoo artist even though the work itself is on someone’s body elsewhere.
This contradictory law has been reflected around the world. In Solid Oak Sketches LLC v 2K Games, Inc[7]., tattoo makers sued the producers of the popular basketball video game NBA 2K for displaying their tattoo designs on digital players. The judge decided that such use was “de minimis” (so minor that it couldn’t amount to infringement), but the case created a tidal wave of questions: What if it’s an iconic tattoo? What if it forms part of one’s identity or brand?
TATTOOS AND THE FREEDOM OVER ONE’S BODY
Indian constitutional law firmly upholds the right to privacy and bodily self-determination that was ushered under Article 21 in Justice K.S. Puttaswamy (Retd.) v Union of India[8]. Is a person in control of his or her body, can someone else legitimately claim entitlements over what’s written on it? That’s where ethics intersect with law.
From a rights angle, a tattoo becomes part and parcel of its owner’s personality. Law may treat it as a piece of art, but the world judges it to be identity particularly in the case of celebrities whose bodies are public property. Just imagine Virat Kohli sued because some brand featured his tattooed arm in an ad. It’s far-fetched but legally possible.
Others opine that such conflict could be resolved by the doctrine of implied license, which states that a customer has an inherent right to perform in public a tattoo after it’s paid for[9]. Commercial reproductions, however, such as films, commercials, or merchandise, aren’t necessarily so unless so agreed upon.
GLOBAL TATTOO WARS: LESSONS FROM ABROAD
Internationally, tattoo copyright disputes have exploded. In the United States, Whitmill v Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc[10]. involved Mike Tyson’s face tattoo, replicated on a fictional character in The Hangover II. The court acknowledged the artist’s copyright claim, showing how absurdly far the law can reach into pop culture. Eventually, the case was settled privately, because no one wanted the movie pulled from cinemas over a tattoo.
Also in Japan, the 2020 case of Tattooist A v Osaka Prefectural Government[11] caused a countrywide uproar following the prosecution of a tattoo artist for practicing without a medical license. The courts in the end upheld artistic freedom and defined tattooing as an art and not a medical procedure. This verdict was in line with the global development of perceiving tattoos as legitimate artistic expression that ought to be guarded.
UK’s Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988[12] also regards tattoos as works of art, yet its “fair dealing” exceptions have narrower coverage than U.S. fair use. This in turn means that an unauthorized reproduction; e.g., an advertising campaign can easily qualify as infringement, even incidental.
THE INDIAN LEGAL VACUUM
India’s Copyright Act was drafted at a time tattoos were least fashionable. Although it safeguards original works of art, it makes no provision for works permanently fixed on a human body. Transfer of ownership, extent of implied license, and extent of commercial usage still remain undefined.
Section 57[13] also grants artists “moral rights” so that no alteration or distortion may be made to the piece. This could, in theory, give recourse to sue a person for having modified the tattoo artist’s work or had it entirely removed an outrageous but technically feasible lawsuit. Whereas no such lawsuit has happened in India so far, vagueness in statutory guidance keeps it a ticking time bomb.
Bodily self-control and morality are in conflict with each other. Is it more important that the individual have the right to control his or her own body or that the artist have creative authority? More abstract questions of how far property entitlements go over human bodies also come up in this connection. In digital identity law, these questions also come up more and more.
TOWARDS A BALANCED LEGAL FRAMEWORK
Explicit consent-based contracts, contracts that specify that payment constitutes the right to display and reproduce the tattoo can be a viable solution. Along with maintaining artistic and bodily autonomy, this also forestalls legal chaos. Another proposition is a statutory exception in line with the U.S. Copyright Office’s latest clarification that tattoos “normally do not restrict public display by the wearer.[14]” Such language could similarly be taken up by India via judicial interpretation or amendment and attain a balance between freedom and innovation. The issue of ownership in AI also needs to be taken up by the legal fraternity. Questions of ownership are becoming increasingly relevant with influencers using augmented reality tattoos to establish brand identity and digital artists training models on tattoo designs. Since human skin is becoming a medium and a message, the law cannot do anything about it.
CONCLUSION
Tattoos, a contract in life between wearer and artist, where art and self-expression converge with identity, falter both ways if the law fails to recognize the nuance of that bond. India’s two choices are either revamp its copyright laws to suit contemporary creativity, or sit back and allow tiffs between tattoo culture and AI art, social media, and star branding to erupt. In short, this has very little to do with ink. This is all about self-ownership of our bodies, our art, and our right to exist freely without fear of being sued for who we are.[15]
Author(s) Name: Kanishika Talwar (St. Soldier College of Law, Jalandhar)
References:
[1] Hayden v Take-Two Interactive Software Inc (ND Ohio, 2024)
[2] Rihanna v Topshop Ltd [2013] EWHC 2312 (Ch)
[3] Hrithik Roshan v Unknown (Delhi High Court, 2025)
[4] Solid Oak Sketches LLC v 2K Games, Inc 449 F Supp 3d 333 (SDNY 2020)
[5] Justice KS Puttaswamy (Retd) v Union of India (2017) 10 SCC 1
[6] Whitmill v Warner Bros Entertainment Inc 2011 WL 2038147 (ED Mo 2011)
[7] Tattooist A v Osaka Prefectural Government [2020] Osaka High Court
[8] Copyright Act 1957, s 2(c)
[9] Copyright Act 1957, s 17
[10] Copyright Act 1957, s 57
[11] Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 (UK), s 1(1)(a)
[12] David Nimmer, Nimmer on Copyright (Matthew Bender 2022) vol1
[13] United States Copyright Office, Compendium of US Copyright Office Practices (3rd edn, 2021) para 313.6(C)
[14] Statista, ‘Global Tattoo Industry Market Value 2025’ (2024) https://www.statista.com/
[15] WIPO, ‘Artificial Intelligence and Intellectual Property Policy’ (2024)
