As dance increasingly circulates in the digital age, choreographers face heightened risks of unauthorised use and appropriation on social media. This piece examines the intersection between choreography and intellectual property law, focusing on the challenges of originality and fixation in securing copyright protection. Through a comparative analysis of UK and US legal frameworks, it argues for a more flexible and adaptable approach to protecting choreography, particularly as social media blurs the boundary between informal “social dances” and commercially valuable creative works. In the absence of recent UK case law, choreographers often rely on a combination of informal and formal protective mechanisms. Informal community norms and honour-based customs play a crucial role in preventing misappropriation as choreography moves into the commercial mainstream, while formal mechanisms reinforce choreographers’ rights, especially when engaging with large companies and online distribution. Overall, the piece highlights the need to recognise choreography as copyrightable, reassess fixation and originality requirements, and value complementary protective systems in a rapidly evolving technological landscape.
Introduction
Choreography blends artistic expression and movement, presenting unique challenges for Intellectual Property (IP) law as it seeks to protect and enforce the rights associated with this transient yet impactful form of creativity. The advent of social media has proven to be a double-edged sword; whilst it has given choreographers unparalleled exposure and countless career opportunities, there is greater scope for exploitation and misappropriation. To protect themselves from malicious actors online, choreographers need to gain copyright protection over their work.
According to the Cambridge Dictionary, choreography is defined as “the skill of combining movements into dances to be performed”. In both the UK and the US, choreography is protected as a “dramatic work”,[1] entitling the copyright holder the right to copy, issue copies, perform, or adapt the copyright work.[2] For “dramatic work” to be protected, it must be original and fixed. Given the abundance of commercial choreography online, achieving originality can be challenging. Similarly, technological advancements and recording methods complicate the fixation requirement. Whilst it is important for choreographers to exercise their rights, it is crucial that the simplest of dance moves – the “building blocks of dance” – remain in the public domain. This guarantees dancers a shared pool of creative inspiration and raw material which cannot be appropriated, ensuring that such material is freely available to fuel artistic innovation.[3]
Whether modern-day choreographers warrant copyright protection requires an understanding of the normative justifications for such protection. This involves clarifying the appropriate scope of rights and the balance struck between rewarding creativity and preserving the public domain. This piece will first discuss these normative justifications, alongside the importance of the public domain for fostering artistic innovation. Secondly, the authors will explore the requirements of fixation and originality for choreography in US and UK IP law. Thirdly, this piece will discuss how technological developments have influenced our traditional conceptions of ownership and copyright protection, such as “social dances” which require more nuanced legal consideration. Lastly, the authors will examine informal and formal mechanisms in the US and the UK to analyse whether trade unions, licensing bodies, or the norms of the dance community are valuable avenues for protection in the absence of copyright protection.
Section I – Justifying Copyright for Choreography
Whilst digital platforms rapidly circulate dances, the risk of unauthorised use has proliferated. Therefore, it is vital that choreography is protected under copyright, not just as a legal formality, but also to recognise choreographers’ creative efforts and encourage further innovation in the dance community. Copyright protection for choreography finds normative justifications through the labour theory[4] and the personality theory.[5] While labour theory acknowledges the creator’s labour, skill and effort invested in creating a choreographic work,[6] personality theory is particularly potent as it recognises dance as an extension of an artist’s identity.[7] Nevertheless, these justifications must be balanced with the necessity to protect the public domain, as excessive IP protection hinders artistic innovation. A careful balance ensures that choreographers can safeguard their artistic integrity while maintaining a rich creative landscape for the creation of future works. This section examines how personality theory supports copyright protection for choreography and its impact on the public domain.
a. Personality theory.
Hegel’s personality-based justification views creative works as extensions of an individual’s identity: IP rights protect an artist’s will and self-expression.[8] This recognises dance as more than a series of movements but as an embodiment of a dancer’s soul, meriting copyright protection to prevent appropriation and distortion of artistic integrity.[9] Singer argues that a choreographer’s primary motivation is not just financial gain, but also the need to make an artistic statement.[10] Thus, while economic rights are important, personality-based justifications emphasise the moral and reputational interests at stake, ensuring creators maintain control over their artistic vision.
A key strength of this theory lies in how it recognises the personal connection between an artist and their work, reinforcing the moral claim to ownership and control. However, Hughes and Palmer criticise the extent to which these claims apply, particularly in cases where creative works become separate from the creator’s personality, as seen in commissioned works,[11] and the inherent challenge of defining what constitutes an expressive work.[12] Accordingly, disputes such as Kelley Heyer’s claim against Roblox over the alleged misuse of the “Apple” dance[13] highlight the continued relevance of Locke’s labour theory and that questions of remuneration and economic rights remain significant. Despite this, we must emphasise that the choreographic work itself remains a reflection of the dancer, and thus, is an extension of their inner self. Intrinsically, a dance derives its value from the incorporation of the self, meaning that the personality theory may more strongly resonate with the dance community.
b. The public domain.
The public domain serves as an essential resource for creativity, providing a pool of shared materials for choreographers to rely upon.[14] Thambisetty notes that creativity cannot exist in isolation: without access to pre-existing works, innovation would be stifled.[15] The abundance of the public domain plays a particularly poignant role in fostering innovation in choreography, as individual movements, poses, and short sequences are readily available and not protected under copyright. These fundamental building blocks form a choreographer’s movement vocabulary, and their availability enables the development of new, original works. Expanding copyright protection too broadly could result in excessive restrictions, hindering artistic evolution and collaboration within the dance community. Over-extensive protection works also risk chilling creative experimentation, restricting shared cultural dance forms, increasing litigation over short movement sequences, creating barriers for emerging artists, and blurring the boundary between protectable expression and unprotectable ideas or styles. These risks underscore the need for a public domain rich in resources to provide material for current and future generations of dancers.
Section II – Criteria for Copyright Protection
Given the robust normative justifications for the protection of choreographic works, stringent legal safeguards exist to determine whether certain works are worthy of copyright protection. Choreography faces unique hurdles in satisfying copyright criteria. The fixation requirement necessitates that a choreographic work be captured in a tangible form,[16] raising concerns about the adequacy of modern technological methods for documentation. Meanwhile, the originality requirement demands that choreographers demonstrate a degree of creative expression,[17] distinguishing works from conventional steps. This section examines how the UK and the US apply these principles, exploring the tensions between copyright and the fluid and ephemeral nature of dance, highlighting the need for an adaptable legal framework that balances protection with artistic innovation.
a. Fixation.
Choreographic works are conventionally perceived as temporally impermanent[18], existing in the moment and soon after, concluding. This makes it challenging to permanently capture a dance to afford it copyright protection. To resolve this problem, the fixation requirement demands that the “dramatic work” be fixed into a “tangible medium of expression.”[19] This can be satisfied through film, videos,[20] or written dance notations, such as Labanotation[21] and Benesh Movement Notation[22]. By recording choreography, it is possible to ascertain whether infringement has occurred,[23] ensuring certainty by permanently fixing what would otherwise be ephemeral.
This discussion becomes more complex in the digital age. Fixation has evolved beyond traditional notation to include digital recordings. This is important given the increased circulation of dance on online platforms. Data from the U.S. Copyright Office Public Records System[24] shows that registration of commercial choreography increased significantly by 266% from 2010-2011 to 2023-2024. This also correlates with the expansion of YouTube’s copyright enforcement tools, such as the Content ID and Copyright Match Tool, which facilitate the protection of choreography against unauthorised use. YouTube’s Content ID is a digital rights management system for users to detect and manage copyrighted content on the platform. Content ID claims exceeded 826 million in 2023, over 90% of which resulted in monetisation rather than removal. Choreographers are increasingly recognising the value of copyright registration to safeguard and monetise their creations.[25] Similarly, this trend in choreography registration can be observed with the rise of TikTok. Despite the absence of publicly available data on copyright strikes, there is a noticeable increase in the registration of choreography that has gone viral on the platform, such as Mya Nicole’s ‘Up Choreography’[26] and Haley Sharpe’s ‘Say So Dance’.[27] This shift indicates the growing recognition of choreography as a valuable IP asset, reinforcing the need for stronger legal frameworks to protect creators in an era where digital platforms play a pivotal role in content dissemination and monetisation.
This reliance on copyright protection for choreography raises important questions about how dance is fixed in the digital era, leading to three shortcomings identified by Johnson.[28] Firstly, he argues that the accuracy of a video recording relies on a performer’s precision. Hence, any mistakes or stylistic choices made will be fixed as the final version of a dance. Contrary to his argument, this concern is not unique to digital fixation. Even traditional forms of notation rely on the skill of the notator. However, digital tools, including motion capture and AI-assisted analysis, can mitigate human error by providing more detailed recordings of movement. Secondly, Johnson posits that recorded versions may fail to convey the three-dimensional nature of dance, meaning nuances like internal groove and flow are not captured. This assertion can be challenged: due to the presence of new technology such as 360-degree recordings and VR technology, they can preserve the work’s visual depth. While some nuances may be lost, modern recording techniques offer far more than a simple two-dimensional reduction. Lastly, varying camera angles may pose a challenge for future choreographers to recreate recorded stage formations in a “consistent and uniform manner.”[29] Regardless, this ignores the fact that choreographers use multiple tools, including notation, diagrams, and direct teaching, to ensure accuracy. Ultimately, while digital fixation presents challenges, evolving technology and combined methodologies provide more reliable solutions than Johnson acknowledges.
Overall, the fixation requirement in both the US and the UK ensures that choreography is protected, addressing the challenges associated with its ephemeral nature. As digital technologies improve the accuracy and preservation of choreography, they provide more reliable fixation methods. To adapt to these advancements, copyright law must evolve to better protect choreographic works in the digital age.
b. Originality.
Originality, which is the second criterion for copyright protection,[30] requires a work to have originated from the author.[31] The test for originality was established in Infopaq[32]: a work is original if it is the “author’s own intellectual creation”[33]. This definition has been accepted by UK courts[34]. Similarly, the US provides copyright protection for “original works”[35] with “minimal creativity”.[36] This low threshold[37] ensures that the economic value of a creator’s investment is safeguarded[38] and incentivises further creative production. Therefore, works with limited creativity but include the choreographer’s personal expression are likely to meet the criteria for originality.
Certain dance styles rearrange and sample steps used by other choreographers, which is common in hip-hop and jazz.[39] However, to make a dance distinctively theirs, choreographers add their own twist or a “new perspective”.[40] For example, Parris Goebel fused traditional street styles, including popping, locking, and breaking, with Caribbean dancehall in her “Sorry” choreography,[41] achieving virality due to her revolutionary take on conventional steps. Therefore, to determine whether choreography is original, the way that common steps are combined with a choreographer’s own unique contributions is essential.
Ultimately, what makes a choreographic work “original” is the choreographer’s exercise of creative choice.[42] For example, JaQuel Knight successfully secured protection over his “Single Ladies” choreography.[43] Although it incorporated well-known elements of dance, a “creative spark”[44] was present. The dance combined common elements in a unique and engaging way to be deemed original. In comparison, the US Copyright Office rejected the registration of Alfonso Ribeiro’s “Carlton Dance”,[45] as it was deemed a “simple dance routine”[46] These decisions demonstrate that an arrangement of moves is more likely to warrant copyright protection, whereas “simple” moves or gestures belong in the public domain. Additionally, Singer[47] has proposed more elements that should be taken into consideration, such as the “choreographer’s treatment of rhythm, space, and movement”[48] and whether the “dance bears the choreographer’s individual stamp”.[49]The US Copyright Office has also identified copyrightable elements such as “rhythmic movements in a defined spatial environment”.[50] Overall, this illustrates that originality hinges not only on the combination of movements, but also on the choreographer’s unique interpretation of rhythm and expression.
In summary, originality is determined by the choreographer’s creative choices rather than the use of common movements alone. The approach taken in the UK and the US highlights the importance of creativity when assessing originality, ensuring that choreographers receive protection for their unique artistic contributions.
Section III – Impact of Commercialisation and the Digital Age
Choreography is more than just movements combined into dances to be performed: it is an outlet of artistic expression, using creativity to convey emotions and moves imbued with symbolic meanings and shared heritage. Because of the ephemeral nature of dance, combined with its historical roots as a communal practice, the law has strictly defined the boundaries of protection in dance. As a result, choreographers are often free to innovate using the “building blocks” set in place by previous dancers without the fear of legal action.[51]
Following the commercialisation of dance, where choreographers have started to create shorter pieces, the lack of legal protection afforded to their creativity has become an issue.[52] The digital era also presents a unique challenge for younger choreographers. While dance is seen as the primary “currency” on large social media platforms like TikTok,[53] many dances are non-commissioned and not protected by copyright. Therefore, it is difficult to claim ownership when others can modify it, substitute the music, and claim it as their own. This may challenge Hegel’s personality theory, as movements no longer come to reflect a dancer’s identity, thus weakening the justification of awarding protection to choreography. To understand how copyright could adapt to this evolving landscape, the authors willfirst look at what “choreography” has come to represent and encompass throughout the years.
a. Evolution of choreography.
Initially, choreography was synonymous with “dramatico-musical compositions”. These told a story or developed a character in front of an audience[54], only warranting protection if included in larger sets of “literary” or “dramatic work”.[55] In the 20th century, new forms of abstract dance departed from the traditional perception of choreography as a narrative, with the US Copyright Act 1976 acknowledging “choreography or pantomimes” as subjects protectable by copyright.[56] Similarly, the decision of Norowzian v Arks Ltd in the UK affirmed that a “storyline” is unnecessary for a piece to qualify as a “dramatic work”.[57]
In the 1970s, there was a revolution in popular culture with the influence of hip-hop in the US, leading to the birth of “street dance”.[58] Laying the foundations for party dances in entertainment media, they were not intended to be performed in front of an audience. Instead, they were freestyle movements that eventually became incorporated into choreographers’ works.
b. The “double-edged sword” of social media.
The rise of social media has led to increased connectivity around the world, allowing for a greater exchange of ideas and culture. For instance, choreographers internationally incorporate dance styles from different continents, from Afro-Dance, Latin, to Bhangra. Yeoh claims that the rise in popularity of dance online has created a “growing market for the products of [choreographers’] creative intellect”,[59] awarding them with more professional opportunities to commercialise their work. To exemplify this, the popularity of TikTok has sparked numerous viral dance challenges, granting young creators a space to showcase their creativity to a larger audience. For instance, Drew Jackson’s 15-second routine “Just Wanna Rock” instantly went viral and became one of the biggest TikTok trends.[60] Jackson accumulated over 29 million likes, and his choreography brought success to the song’s artist, Lil Uzi Vert.[61] This shows the extent to which social media operates as a powerful tool to enhance visibility for dancers, providing avenues to a career in the entertainment industry.
However, social media acts as a double-edged sword: greater exposure comes at the cost of a greater likelihood of misappropriation. This means that young dancers are unable to receive credit for their work or access the opportunities that virility offers. Therefore, it is imperative to reconsider how to protect dance choreography in contemporary society and ensure dancers can replicate and adapt dances without fear of repercussions. Technology exacerbates the issue of legal recognition of street-style choreography, due to the prevalence of sampling as a tool of “research and development” in hip-hop.[62] Many “viral dances” on social media involve the repetition of basic hip-hop steps, which are not protectable by copyright.
c. The “social dance” classification.
“Social dances” are simple, short, and “intended to be performed by the general public” for “their own personal enjoyment”.[63] These dances are explicitly excluded from copyright protection in the US;[64] for example, the “Carlton”’ and “Milly”. This exclusion demonstrates the law’s conservative perspective, viewing choreography as a medium that requires a certain level of complexity and artistic intention. Attempts to distinguish performance-driven works over recreational dances have been met with strong opposition from the dance community, showing concern over a judicially-constructed definition of dance, as judges do not have the artistic merit or technical expertise to determine a piece of work’s “creative original value”.[65] By definition, “social” dances also encompass short 30-second dance trends, as seen on Instagram and TikTok, as well as choreographies taught in dance studios, performed by dancers of all levels for recreational purposes, thereby aligning with the concept of social dance.
Interestingly, Drew Jackson’s TikTok routine “I Just Wanna Rock” was registered as a “dramatic work”.[66] Based on the US Copyright Office’s definition, this dance should not warrant protection, but its registration suggests an evolving approach to how choreography is assessed in the digital age. Although the “Carlton” was a short piece, it only incorporated repetitive gestures; Jackson’s routine was worthy of protection as he created a unique, structured arrangement of intentional movements to a song’s rhythm and melody. This flexible approach is similar to that adopted in the UK, where the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 likewise acknowledge the significance of the “arrangement” of a choreographic work.[67]
Ultimately, the traditional classification of a “social dance” fails to reflect the evolving role of choreography in digital media. In reality, social media dance trends blur the conventional distinction between recreational and professional dances, as routines are short and replicable, whilst simultaneously containing a unique arrangement of movements to a song’s melodies and musical accents. The District Court’s initial dismissal of Kyle Hanagami’s claim of copyright infringement against Fortnite demonstrates how courts may have a limited appreciation of what makes creative online practices distinctive.[68] Hanagami alleged that Fortnite’s “It’s Complicated” emote was similar to his “How Long” choreography. However, the court held that Hanagami’s short dance sequence was an unprotectable “simple routine” or a series of unprotectable “poses”. Fortunately, this decision was reversed by the Ninth Court, which took a broader approach, clarifying that protection extends to the “selection and arrangement” of elements, including body position, shape and tempo. This judgement provided much-needed clarity and demonstrated that a more expansive approach is beneficial to safeguarding dancer’s choreographic work. There are notable parallels between the broad approach taken in the US’ Hanagami case and the UK’s Norowzian case,[69] suggesting that copyright may be a viable avenue to protect “social dances” on online platforms. As short-form choreography increasingly plays a significant role in shaping popular culture, the UK and US’s adaptable copyright regimes are equipped to undertake the exercise of balancing artistic expression with the need for legal recognition.
Section IV – Alternative Avenues for Protection
Choreographers often turn to formal and informal mechanisms to safeguard their works. Formal mechanisms such as trade unions, collective management organisations (CMOs), and licensing schemes assist choreographers with negotiating rights, securing royalties, and resolving disputes. Additionally, informal mechanisms rooted in the customs of the dance community, such as attribution norms and community recognition, play a crucial role in maintaining creative integrity. This section explores how both formal and informal systems operate to protect choreographic works, assessing the extent to which they can ensure that choreographers’ rights are protected and that they receive the credit, compensation, and recognition they deserve.
a. Formal mechanisms for protection.
Whilst formal mechanisms offer support to choreographers, they are not without their limitations. Trade unions such as Equity in the UK[70] and the Stage Directors and Choreographers Society (SDC)[71] in the US provide choreographers with valuable negotiation power and advocacy in contracts. Although these mechanisms are beneficial, their effectiveness is contingent on membership. Therefore, many choreographers, particularly freelancers or those outside mainstream dance, may not be members of these unions.[72] Additionally, CMOs offer another layer of protection by administering and licensing copyrights on behalf of choreographers. In France, the Société des Auteurs et Compositeurs Dramatiques (SACD)[73] manages licences and collects royalties for choreographers. Introducing a CMO for choreography in the UK could improve licensing efficiency, ensuring choreographers benefit financially from their works. Despite this, embedding choreography into a compulsory licensing scheme could clash with the viral nature of platforms like TikTok, where obtaining permissions for each use is impractical. Creative Commons licenses and platform-specific tools, such as YouTube’s Content ID[74], present more adaptable solutions by allowing choreographers to grant conditional use while maintaining credit and monetisation rights.
b. Informal mechanisms for protection.
While formal avenues for the protection of choreographic works are available to dancers, informal mechanisms within the dance community are often more effective deterrents against unauthorised use. Community-driven customs uphold ethical standards and prevent appropriation in a manner that aligns with the fluid, collaborative nature of dance. For instance, freestyle dancers use the “bite signal”[75] to reprimand copying during performances, ensuring originality is respected, even in competitive dance settings. On social media, crediting the choreographer is done using the brain emoji or “DC”[76] tag, establishing a community norm of respect[77] and reinforcing the expectation that the original choreographer’s creative contributions are acknowledged. Whilst the honour-based system had long influenced the dance community, the rise of Musically and TikTok brought broader public recognition of these customs. Notably, talent agency Jam Republic[78] threatened to take legal action against studios engaging in choreography theft, reinforcing “good faith” in the dance community.[79] This shows that without copyright protection, much weight is placed on educating dancers and the public about appropriate use. By relying on customs that work fluidly within and between dance circles, a form of organic protection is guaranteed for choreographers without disrupting the collaborative nature of dance. This demonstrates how informal sanctions, such as public accountability, can be just as powerful as legal or formal mechanisms in safeguarding choreographers’ rights.
As choreographer Sunny Lee observes, “in the dance community, it is definitely an honour-based system, and most people would just hope that somebody wouldn’t be plagiarising them.”[80] This honour-based approach fosters an environment where dancers actively seek permission before using choreography, strengthening ethical norms within the industry. Choreographers also frequently grant permission for non-commercial or recreational use, which reinforces a culture of consent rather than restriction. Whilst formal mechanisms, such as licensing schemes, trade unions, and CMOs, may provide more direct protection for choreographers, they are time-consuming and uncertain in the absence of strong copyright safeguards. In contrast, informal mechanisms provide an adaptable, responsive, and immediate response to infringement. By emphasising public accountability, education, and mutual respect, the dance world self-regulates in a way that aligns with its inherently fluid and collaborative nature, offering a more effective model of protection in the fast-paced digital age.
Conclusion
The evolution of choreography, particularly the rise of short-form dances, combined with the growth of social media, underscores the need for protection against the infringement and misattribution of choreographic works. The broad approach to the protection of choreographic arrangements in the US and the UK has proven beneficial to dancers, reflecting a flexible and adaptable attitude toward recognising protection in an online environment. Informal and formal mechanisms, from dance customs and honour-based systems to trade unions and CMOs, demonstrate that while formal organisations assist with licensing and contract negotiation, community norms play a particularly important role in preventing infringement. Overall, the copyright regimes in the US and UK, alongside these mechanisms, create a space for dancers to innovate freely, producing works that reflect their individuality without the threat of exploitation by large companies or other creators on social media platforms.
APPENDIX
SOURCE A: INTERVIEW WITH CHOREOGRAPHER SUNNY LEE
“Before answering the questions, I think it’s also important to preface the definition of dance and our understanding of it as a cultural phenomenon before applying an academic lens to it. For the purposes of this interview, I would define dance as the social act of putting movement to music. This could be in reference styles like: Hip Hop with aspects of dance in its socio-political representation of black queer communities in 70s New York, traditional ballroom dances which links to European aristocracy, even stemming to the current day aspect of social media and dance trends on social media, which we will explore later on in this interview. Due to its social and subjective nature, all definitions/understanding of dance will be from my own point of view which is the culmination of research that I’ve done personally and person-to-person sharing of knowledge. Certain words and definitions may vary depending on context and there are still things that I’m still learning and might contrast to other views; as this is such a nuanced topic, this is also important to consider when balancing arguments as it’s not as black and white as other, more objective, academic subjects.”
Q: As a dancer of various styles, how would you define “commercial choreography” down to its essence, and how does it differ from other styles/purposes of choreography?
“Therefore when it comes to understanding “commercial choreography” I like to break it down word by word. In this case, “commercial” meaning things concerning commerce or selling a product/making money and “choreography” meaning “set movement to a set piece of music”. Putting the two phrases together, commercial choreography = set movement to a set piece of music in order to make money. As the nature of commerce has changed over time, so has the nature of dance in terms of how it’s presented, and the movement has always been a reflection of the music of the time. What was popular and accessible in the 70s-90s was TV and radio with the musical landscape shaped by hip hop, funk, soul and electronic music production becoming more prominent as technology developed. (this is also specific to American history as it does play a huge part in global dance culture). Therefore stylistically, commercial choreography had all of these influences made evident in music videos that you would watch on MTV from artists like Michael Jackson, Janet Jackson, Paula Abdul, Britney Spears. From the 2000s onwards you see a much more varied stylistic influence in “commercial choreography” and its format due to further development of technology and connectivity of the world. Nowadays we see much more Afro-dance style influences (even being genre specific like amapiano, azonto and bacardi) and dancehall (though pockets of many styles have been commercialised). Furthermore, people can make money not only through choreographing for music videos but for shows, flashmobs, dance classes, dance trends etc. Even choreography itself as a commercial product has developed so much in the last 10 to 20 years which makes the stylistic definition of “commercial choreography” nowadays very nuanced.”
Q: What inspires you the most when creating choreography?
“The people and its purpose. There are definitely pieces that come from a pure place of inspiration whether that be from the music, an experience, a feeling. However, specifically when I know I’ll be sharing, I always consider who I’ll be sharing with and why I want to share. Whether or not it’s to make money, it is so important to me that I’m able to help someone feel what I felt, or understand the movement for their own.”
Q: Would you consider dance/choreography as something that can be “owned” or “protected”? If yes, what determines whether it is worthy of protection (could it be based on its complexity, narrative behind it, originality, etc)?
“Separating the two words, I don’t think “dance” can be “owned” or “protected”. Referencing back to my preface that in essence that dance is just the social action of moving to music. Whether or not we’ve been able to popularise certain names to certain moves , the matter of fact is that the movement has always existed and as humans develop, so does dance. In terms of “choreography” I absolutely believe it should be protected and what I believe should be protected is the ability to make money from set movement to a set piece of music. For example, if I were to create a routine to “Dua Lipa – Houdini”, that one should be able to copy the exact movement to the exact point of music, then sell it whether it be in the context of a dance class, music video etc.”
Q: How do you distinguish between someone drawing inspiration from your choreography versus someone outright copying without your permission?
“Going back to the fact that dance is social, I believe the integrity that we have towards each other applies to integrity in dance. The only thing we can do is believe that someone might have taken an influence without intention to completely plagiarise except in the case that it is a movement-to-movement exact copy to the exact same music.”
Q: Do you feel the shift towards viral dance trends (on TikTok, Instagram, etc.) has changed the artistic essence of choreography?
“Absolutely! Again, it’s the context of what’s popular, what’s accessible and what the format is. Due to how accessible dance has become through social media, the purpose of dance trends is to create choreography that the most people can do. Therefore, they tend to be short, set to popular songs at the time, non-complex (ie least amount of body parts moving), and executable within the frame of a screen.”
Q: When you collaborate with other dancers, how would you decide on “ownership” of the choreography and determine each person’s contribution?
“The way that I have collaborated in other dances in the past is not to consider a “percentage” approach to ownership but rather a co-creation. As much as this piece wouldn’t exist without my contribution, it wouldn’t exist without them. Therefore the choreography isn’t mine or theirs but ours.”
Q: Are you aware of any formal regulations/law in place surrounding the protection of dance and choreography? Are there any informal mechanisms within the dance community to protect dancers’ ideas?
“There are definitely contracts when it comes to commissioned pieces of work (for example, a choreography for a music video or stage piece). In this case, there is ownership over the choreography. For example, if a choreographer created a piece for a k-pop band, the demo for that choreography then becomes the legal right of the company that received it. Otherwise in the dance community, it is definitely an honour-based system and most people would just hope that somebody wouldn’t be plagiarising them.”
Q: Do you think choreographers have a problem balancing (1) protecting ownership of their work with (2) encouraging creativity and collaboration in the dance community?
“Whilst I can see why some may think these two ideas can work against each other, I believe the bigger overarching issue is how far technology and social media has gone which causes the feeling that the two ideas can’t work together. The integrity of each individual artist/dancer/choreography protecting their work shouldn’t deter them from encouraging creativity and collaboration – going back to the idea of the essence of dance and it being social – but the phenomena of social media and technology and the lack of integrity that exists online is what undermines these values. For example, we even see this issue in artwork and AI generated images. We, as thinking and feeling people, are now having to understand and navigate a space that is not thinking and feeling and therefore I do see choreographers having difficulty navigating the two ideas (but not because I think the two concepts are contradicting)”
Q: Do you think choreographers should be awarded greater protection over their work? If so, how?
“I’m not quite sure how, as it would require the knowledge of a computer scientist/someone who understands the legal aspects of social media/technology/the online hemisphere, but I do believe choreographers should have greater protection over their work especially if it is to be shared online. I believe if we weren’t sharing things online, the only people that I would need to protect my work from are the people that I’m directly sharing it with face to face, and I would hope that there was enough integrity in our relationships that my work would be honoured and not plagiarised. However, with the pieces I have shared online, I have no idea if there is someone across the world making profit from my choreographies and it is a risk that we take every time we share something online.”
SOURCE B: EMPIRICAL RESEARCH – COPYRIGHT REGISTRATIONS FOR “DRAMATIC WORKS OR CHOREOGRAPHY” IN THE US (2010-2024).
| Year of copyright application. | No. of registered copyright applications for “dramatic works or choreography”.[81] | Type of choreography registered. | |||
| Commercial.[82] | Ballet. [83] | Theatrical.[84] | Other.[85] | ||
| 2024 | 39 | 8 | 10 | 15 | 6 |
| 2023 | 33 | 14 | 4 | 7 | 8 |
| 2022 | 27 | 7 | 13 | 4 | 3 |
| 2021 | 18 | 8 | 7 | 1 | 2 |
| 2020 | 37 | 11 | 12 | 7 | 7 |
| 2019 | 44 | 13 | 6 | 16 | 9 |
| 2018 | 27 | 3 | 11 | 7 | 6 |
| 2017 | 51 | 2 | 27 | 13 | 9 |
| 2016 | 24 | 0 | 18 | 3 | 3 |
| 2015 | 45 | 3 | 26 | 15 | 1 |
| 2014 | 21 | 2 | 5 | 11 | 3 |
| 2013 | 59 | 4 | 13 | 26 | 6 |
| 2012 | 68 | 1 | 13 | 52 | 4 |
| 2011 | 47 | 3 | 18 | 15 | 10 |
| 2010 | 54 | 3 | 14 | 30 | 8 |
[1] Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, s 3; Fuller v Bemis [1892] 50 F 926 (SDNY).
[2] Ibid, s 16(1)(a).
[3] Siva Thambisetty, ‘Liza’s Bucket: Intellectual Property and the Metamodern Impulse’ (2020) LSE Legal Studies Working Paper No. 19/2020, <https://ssrn.com/abstract=3743217> accessed 23 January 2025.
[4] Jeremy Waldron, ‘Enough and as Good Left for Others’ (1979) The Philosophical Quarterly vol. 29 no. 117; Alfred C Yen, ‘Restoring the Natural Law: Copyright as Labour and Possession’ (1990) 51 Ohio St LJ 517; Hugh Breakey, ‘Intellectual Liberty: Natural Rights and Intellectual Liberty’ (2012). See on labour theory more generally.
[5] Adam Moore and Kenneth Himma, ‘Intellectual Property’, The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Fall 2022 Edition), <https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/fall2022/entries/intellectual-property/>; David Vaver, ‘Does Intellectual Property Have Personality?’, in Niall Whitty, and Reinhard Zimmermann (eds), Rights of Personality in Scots Law: A Comparative Perspective (Edinburgh, 2009; online edn, Edinburgh Scholarship Online, 21 May 2015) <https://doi.org/10.3366/edinburgh/9781845860271.003.0008> See on personality theory more generally.
[6] Alfred C.Yen, ‘Restoring the Natural Law: Copyright as Labour and Possession’ (1990) 51 Ohio St LJ 517.
[7] Justin Hughes, ‘The Philosophy of Intellectual Property’ (1988) 77 Georgetown LJ 287.
[8] Ibid
[9] See Appendix, Source A.
[10] Barbara A Singer, ‘In Search of Adequate Protection for Choreographic Works: Legislative and Judicial Alternatives vs The Custom of the Community’ (1984) University of Miami Law Review 38, p. 290.
[11] Hughes (n 7).
[12] Tom G Palmer, ‘Are Patents and Copyrights Morally Justified? The Philosophy of Property Rights and Ideal Objects’ (1990) Harvard Journal of Law and Public Policy 13.
[13] Georgia Levy-Collins, ‘Creator of Charli XCX Apple dance settles Roblox lawsuit,’ BBC Newsbeat (4 September 2025) <https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/cdxqljv7nvdo> accessed 12 December 2025.
[14] Thambisetty(n 3).
[15] Ibid
[16] Cala Homes (South) Ltd v Alfred McAlpine Homes East Ltd (No. 1) [1995] F.S.R. 818.
[17] Infopaq Int. v Danske Dagblades Forening, Case C-5/08 [2009] ECR I–6569.
[18] Anthea Kraut, ‘Choreographing copyright: race, gender, and intellectual property in American dance’ (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016) 10.
[19] 17 U.S.C. § 102(a).
[20] Feist Publications v Rural Telephone Service Co. 499 US 340 (1991).
[21] A system of dance notation that records human movement using symbols to represent direction, duration, and body parts in action.
[22] A system of dance notation which preserves ballet choreography on a music-style stave by documenting movement, timing, and dancer relationships.
[23] Marshall Leaffer, ‘Understanding Copyright Law’ (3rd edn, Matthew Bender & Company 1999) 55-56.
[24] See Appendix, Source B.
[25] YouTube, ‘Access for All: A Balanced Ecosystem and Powerful Tools’ (YouTube Blog, 2021) <https://blog.youtube/news-and-events/access-all-balanced-ecosystem-and-powerful-tools/> accessed 22 February 2025; Google, ‘YouTube Copyright Transparency Report’ (Google Transparency Report, 2023) <https://transparencyreport.google.com/youtube-copyright/everyone-has-access?hl=en_GB> accessed 14 February 2025.
[26] Chris Cotter, ‘Chris Cotter & Mya Nicole Up Dance 2021’ (18 January 2025) <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKGXlFhDpcY> accessed 22 February 2025.
[27] Haley Sharpe (‘yodelinghaley’), ‘Say So Dance’ (26 December 2019) <https://www.tiktok.com/@yodelinghaley/video/6774888255801396486?lang=en> accessed 22 February 2025.
[28] Ali Johnson, ‘Copyrighting Tiktok Dances: Choreography in the Internet Age’ (2021) 96 Wash L Rev 1225.
[29] United States Copyright Office, Copyright Registration of Choreography and Pantomime, Circular 52 (2022).
[30] Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, s 1(1).
[31] University of London Press v University Tutorial Press [1916] 2 Ch 601, 609.
[32] Infopaq (n 17).
[33] Ibid
[34] Newspaper Licensing Agency v Meltwater and the PRCA [2011] EWCA Civ 890 [19–20].
[35] 17 U.S. Code § 102.
[36] Feist Publications (n 20).
[37] Technomed v Bluecrest Health Screening [2017] EWHC 2142 (Ch) (D Stone) [89].
[38] Andreas Rahmatian, ‘Originality in UK Copyright Law: The Old “Skill and Labour” Doctrine Under Pressure’ (2013) IIC – International Review of Intellectual Property and Competition Law 44, 4–34.
[39] Zora N Hurston, ‘Characteristics of Negro expression. African American Literary Theory: A Reader’ (New York University Press 2000).
[40] Richard L Schur, ‘Defining Hip-Hop Aesthetics’ in Parodies of Ownership: Hip-Hop Aesthetics and Intellectual Property Law(University of Michigan Press 2009) 42-67.
[41] Justin Bieber, ‘Justin Bieber – Sorry (PURPOSE : The Movement)’ (22 October 2015), <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fRh_vgS2dFE> accessed 22 February 2025.
[42] Infopaq Int. v Danske Dagblades Forening C-5/08 [2009] ECR I–6569 [45].
[43] Beyoncé’s Single Ladies choreography, created by JaQuel Knight and inspired by Bob Fosse’s Mexican Breakfast, features a mix of jazz, hip-hop, and J-setting elements, including sharp hand flicks, wrist rolls, dynamic hip swings, rapid weight shifts, and intricate footwork.
JaQuel Knight, ‘Single Ladies “ReVamped Bridge”’ (28 April 2009), <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nVmjUMBHj2g> accessed 22 February 2025.
[44] Feist Publications v. Rural Telephone Service Co., 499 US 340 [1991] (n 20).
[45] Alfonso Ribeiro’s Carlton Dance, made famous on the show, The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, is a joyful routine inspired by Eddie Murphy’s parody of ‘white people dancing’ and Courteney Cox’s in Springsteen’s Dancing in the Dark video. It features arm swings, high-energy bounces, and dramatic spins, performed with an enthusiastic flair.
[46] Case C-604/10 [2012] 2 CMLR (24) 724–5 [38].
[47] Barbara A Singer, ‘In Search of Adequate Protection For Choreographic Works: Legislative and Judicial Alternatives vs. The Custom of the Dance Community’ (1984) University of Miami Law Review 38, 287 – 319 (n 10).
[48] Ibid
[49] Ibid
[50] Copyright Registration of Choreography and Pantomime, United States Copyright Office, Circular 52 (2022).
[51] Ali Johnson, ‘Copyrighting Tiktok Dances: Choreography in the Internet Age’ (2021) 96 Wash L Rev 1225 (n 28).
[52] See Appendix, Source A.
[53] Johnson (n 51).
[54] Fuller v Bemis [1892] 50 F 926 (SDNY)(n 1). See also Varmer, ‘Copyright in Choreographic Works’ 96.
[55] Joi Michelle Lakes, ‘A Pas De Deux For Choreography and Copyright’ (2005) 80 NYU L Rev 1829.
[56] Copyright Act 1976, s 102(a)(4).
[57] Norowzian v Arks Ltd (No 2) [1999] EWCA Civ 3014.
[58] Tracy Kawalik, ‘Unlock it: tracing the history and cultural significance of street dance’ (2022) Red Bull <https://www.redbull.com/gb-en/history-of-street-dance> accessed 10 December 2024.
[59] F Yeoh, ‘Choreographers and copyright ownership: investigating an apparent dysfunction’ (2015) Journal of Intellectual Property Law & Practice Volume 10 Issue 12.
[60]Drew Jackson (‘drewjeezy’), “I JUST WANNA ROCK” (29 September 2022) <https://www.tiktok.com/@drewjeeezy/video/7148846904330390830?lang=en> accessed 22 February 2025.
[61]VoyageATL, ‘Check out Drew Jeeezy’s Story’, (VoyageATL LOCAL STORIES, 2 February 2023) <https://voyageatl.com/interview/check-out-drew-jeeezys-story/> accessed 22 February 2025.
[62] Richard L Schur, ‘Defining Hip-Hop Aesthetics’ in Parodies of Ownership: Hip-Hop Aesthetics and Intellectual Property Law(University of Michigan Press 2009) 42-67.
[63] Kriss Ravetto-Biagioli, ‘Whose Dance Is It Anyway?: Property, Copyright and the Commons‘ (2021) 38 Theory, Culture & Society 101.
[64] United States Copyright Office, Copyright Registration of Choreography and Pantomime Circular 52 (October 2022) <https://www.copyright.gov/circs/circ52.pdf> accessed 22 February 2025.
[65] Staff of S Comm on the Judiciary, 86th Cong, ‘Copyright Law Revision: Studies Prepared For the Subcommittee on Patents, Trademarks, and Copyrights of the Committee on the Judiciary: Study No. 28 Copyright in Choreographic Works 96’ (1961) 110
[66] U.S. Copyright Office Public Records System, Registration record PA0002481651 (2023) <https://publicrecords.copyright.gov/detailed-record/37016548> accessed 22 February 2025.
[67] Copyright Act 1909, s 35(1).
[68] Hanagami v Epic Games Inc., 2022 WL 4007874 (C.D. Cal. Aug. 24, 2022).
[69] Norowzian v Arks Ltd (No 2) [1999] EWCA Civ 3014.
[70] Equity UK is a trade union for performing arts and entertainment professionals, including dancers and choreographers. It advocates for fair pay, better working conditions, and industry standards. Equity provides resources, legal support, and advice on rights, contracts, and career development.
[71] The Stage Directors and Choreographers Society (SDC) is a US-based union that represents stage directors and choreographers. Its aim is to protect and empower members by securing their rights and livelihood. SDC does so by providing members support in contract negotiations, professional development, negotiating employment agreements, facilitating idea exchange, and educating future generations on the roles of directors and choreographers in theatre.
[72] F Yeoh, ‘Choreographers and copyright ownership: investigating an apparent dysfunction’ (2015) Journal of Intellectual Property Law & Practice Volume 10 Issue 12
[73] The Société des Auteurs et Compositeurs Dramatiques (SACD) defends and supports choreographers and dancers, by managing their rights and ensuring fair remuneration for their work. It negotiates with distributors and producers to secure legal and financial conditions for its members, offers support in contract negotiations, provides training, and facilitates networking opportunities.
[74] YouTube, ‘Access for All: A Balanced Ecosystem and Powerful Tools’ (YouTube Blog, 2021) <https://blog.youtube/news-and-events/access-all-balanced-ecosystem-and-powerful-tools/> accessed 22 February 2025; Google, ‘YouTube Copyright Transparency Report’ (Google Transparency Report, 2023) <https://transparencyreport.google.com/youtube-copyright/everyone-has-access?hl=en_GB> accessed 14 February 2025.
[75] A subtle gesture to call out copying.
[76] “Dance Credit”.
[77] See Appendix, Source A.
[78] A body representing street dancers around the world.
[79] Jam Republic the Agency, ‘ANNOUNCEMENT’, Instagram (22 March 2024) <https://www.instagram.com/p/C4zwQzoyS5d/?hl=en&img_index=1> accessed 22 February 2025.
[80] See Appendix, Source A.
[81] Data from U.S. Copyright Office Public Records System – Pilot, https://publicrecords.copyright.gov/
[82] Defined as a performance without a storyline and used to generate money for the choreographer.
[83] Defined as a type of performance where carefully organised movements tell a story or express an idea.
[84] Defined as a performance with a storyline or accompanying classical music.
[85] Defined as falling outside of the other categories of copyright such as cultural dances, choreography involving props and lights, or undisclosed / unidentifiable choreography.
David Bao
LSE LLB 2026
and
Nurisabela Amira Shah Binti Ahmad Hamizan
LSE LLB 2025