A fictional muse is the simplest citizen of this court: she belongs to her brief, and no one’s rights travel with her. The moment a real face enters — a photograph of yourself, a collaborator’s likeness, a face destined for casting or transformation — the work changes its legal nature. This checklist is the seal that must be complete before the first commission runs, not assembled afterwards from memory and good intentions.
The four seals
- Adulthood, verified. The person is 18 or over, and you have actually verified it — not assumed it from appearance. No verification, no entry.
- Scope, in words. What may be made is stated plainly: stills, clips, casting, undress transformation — each named. Consent to one is not consent to the others, and a new use requires a new agreement, given before the job, not after.
- A record that exists. The agreement kept as a file — a signed release or a written exchange stating the scope and its acceptance — stored with the work it covers, where an audit can find it without archaeology.
- Withdrawal, honoured. The person can revoke, and revocation works: production stops and presented pieces come down. A consent arrangement that cannot be withdrawn was never consent.
Your own face is not an exception
Self-portraits sit under the same adulthood rule, and the same record habit is worth keeping: when a page is challenged, “the performer is me, and here is my file” ends the conversation in one message. Professionalism, in this corner of the work, is mostly the ability to produce the right document quickly.
When a seal is missing
Do not commission. The asymmetry is total: a skipped set costs a week; an unsealed one can cost the account, the storefront and the name on the page. The court’s moderation works the same way — documentation will be asked for, and having it ready is what authority looks like in practice.