Most consent trouble in AI production is not malice; it is a missing page in the logbook. A collaboration made sense in a chat thread in March, the images are selling in June, and by September nobody can produce the message where likeness use was agreed. The fix is the harbour master’s habit: a short written record, made before anything sails, kept with the cargo it covers.
The minimum viable entry
For every real person whose face, body or photos enter your workflow, log four things together: identification (who they are, and how you verified they are an adult), scope (what may be made — stills, clips, swaps, undress transformations — stated in words, never assumed), term (how long the permission runs and whether it can be withdrawn), and the agreement itself (a signed release, or at minimum a written exchange stating the scope and accepting it — saved as a file, not left inside a chat app).
Rules that keep the logbook honest
- Scope is literal. Consent to appear in clothed stills is not consent to undress transformations. A new use gets a new line in the log, agreed before the job runs.
- Withdrawal is real. If a collaborator revokes, production stops and published pieces come down. A record system that cannot execute a withdrawal is not a consent system.
- Fictional muses get a different page. A purely generated character has no person to consent — but keep her anchor block and first frames on file, because “this performer is fictional” is a claim you may one day need to show your working for.
- Store the log with the catalogue. The folder for a set should carry its consent entry next to the deliverables, so an audit never becomes an excavation.
When in doubt, do not generate
The economics are asymmetric: one undocumented set can cost an account, a storefront and a reputation, while the set you skipped costs a week. This studio’s rules mirror that — uploads and swaps require adulthood and consent, and moderation can ask to see the documentation. Having the logbook ready is simply what professional looks like.