Simple photography is no longer “simple”: seventy years of protection and a shift in perspective in copyright law

Gianpaolo Todisco - Partner

For a long time, under Italian copyright law, ordinary photography was treated as a borderline case. Not creative enough to qualify as a work of authorship, yet not entirely without protection either. It was a constant presence in practice—in archives, newspapers, catalogs, and the country’s visual records—yet at the same time marginal from a legal standpoint, especially when compared to artistic photography.

This approach reflected an outdated view of the image: a technical product destined to quickly lose its economic and cultural value. In that context, a time-limited term of protection—twenty years from the date of production—seemed appropriate. A photograph served its purpose, circulated, and then made way for something else.

Today, however, that world no longer exists.

The recent extension of the term of copyright protection for simple photographs from twenty to seventy years marks a profound shift. It is not merely a regulatory change, but a genuine rethinking of the role of photography in our society and in the cultural market. The legislature is acknowledging a reality that those who work with images have long been aware of: even a photograph lacking creativity in the strict sense can have lasting value, sometimes far longer than that of many formally “artistic” works.

In Italian copyright law, the distinction between creative photography and simple photography has always been clear in theory but blurred in practice. The former presupposes a personal contribution, a vision, a recognizable expressive choice; the latter is limited to reproducing reality in an apparently neutral manner. Yet this neutrality is often only apparent. Even in documentary photography, in news reporting, and in the reproduction of a work or an event, there are decisions, skills, and technical sensibilities at play that affect the final result.

For years, however, the system has preferred to maintain minimal protection, as if to emphasize that, in the absence of creativity, copyright should quickly step aside. Digital technology, the global circulation of images, and the transformation of photographs into genuine informational assets have gradually rendered this approach unsustainable. A simple photograph today can be reused countless times, taken out of its original context, reworked, monetized, and incorporated into digital archives, platforms, and online collections. Its value no longer wears out in just a few years.

The extension to seventy years stems precisely from this realization. It is not a matter of “rewarding” a lack of creativity, but of recognizing that the duration of protection can no longer be tied to an outdated view of the life cycle of an image. In an ecosystem where photographs become memory, documentation, heritage, and datasets, the legal timeframe must be extended to remain consistent with real-world realities.

The practical consequences of this decision are far from insignificant. Many photographs that, under the previous regime, would already be freely usable today, are now subject to exclusive rights. This affects publishing activities, the digitization of archives, cultural projects, institutional communication, and even the use of images in everyday contexts. The widespread notion that an “old” photograph is automatically in the public domain suddenly becomes dangerous, if not entirely incorrect.

For photographers, heirs, professional archives, and those who manage photographic collections, the reform represents a strong statement. Photographic work—even when it does not aspire to the status of a work of art—is recognized as a body of work that deserves long-term protection. For those who use images, however, a new era of greater attention and responsibility is beginning: verifying rights, tracing ownership, and reviewing established practices have become inevitable.

Of course, there is no shortage of critical voices. The extension of copyright protection is viewed by some as an obstacle to the free circulation of visual culture, a delay in images entering the public domain, and an additional complication for institutions that already operate with limited resources. These are legitimate concerns that touch on a central issue in contemporary copyright law: the balance between protection and access.

But it is equally true that photography is now one of the main tools through which we construct and transmit our collective memory. Treating it as an ephemeral asset, destined to lose its legal protection in the near future, would have meant ignoring its real cultural and economic significance. In this sense, the reform does not create a new right, but rather acknowledges a transformation that has already taken place.

Today, “simple” photography is no longer “simple” in the sense that it was twenty years ago. It is a form of visual production that has a long lifespan, circulates widely, and generates value over time. Extending the duration of its rights means acknowledging this reality and compelling everyone—creators, users, and institutions—to engage with the image in a more informed way.

The debate is unlikely to end here. In fact, it is bound to continue for a long time to come. But one thing is certain: following this reform, simple photography can no longer be considered a minor right. It has definitively entered the long era of copyright.