There’s a particular kind of trust that sits quietly in the background at heavy shows. Fans trust bands to deliver. Bands trust crews to keep the machine moving. And photographers, often working in cramped pits with strict rules and tighter time windows, trust that the work they create won’t end up somewhere it shouldn’t.
That’s why the allegations aimed at Sleep Token this week are landing with extra weight in the metal and hard rock world, where merch is more than just clothing and becomes identity, community, and a major revenue stream.
Photographer Laura Ioana V says she discovered that a live image she captured of Vessel was altered and used on official, commemorative merchandise sold at Sleep Token’s November 10, 2024, show in Frankfurt, Germany, without her permission. She states the original photo was taken earlier, during Sleep Token’s June 15, 2023, performance at Copenhell festival in Copenhagen, while she was working on an editorial assignment for a magazine.
If you’ve ever shot a festival set, you know how much labour is packed into a handful of songs: the sprint to find an angle, the battle against lighting, the split-second timing, the long edit after the gig. That effort is exactly why licensing matters. Whether the final image ends up in a magazine, a press cycle, or a poster run, the permission and terms are the whole point.
Laura Ioana V put the situation into plain language in her Instagram post: “This year I found out the photo I took in 2023 at @copenhell festival (on an editorial assignment for a magazine) was used for merch in 2024, without my permission. I have not signed any contract granting anyone the licensing rights to these photos.”
For readers who don’t live in the photo world: that one sentence is the hinge. Editorial access and assignments don’t automatically translate into “free for anything.” Official merchandise is a commercial use, and commercial use is where licensing, contracts, and payment aren’t optional niceties. They’re the baseline.
What pushes this from “messy misunderstanding” into “scene-wide conversation” is the communication gap Laura Ioana V describes. She says she tried repeatedly to reach the band and its representatives, without success: “I have sent emails myself and sent a lot of DMs on socials as well, but I haven’t been successful in establishing a communication line with the band directly.”
That line will resonate with plenty of creatives, not because it’s dramatic, but because it’s familiar. When you’re a photographer (or designer, or videographer) without a big agency behind you, a closed door can stay closed for a long time. The power imbalance is real, and the silence can feel like part of the strategy, even when it’s just bureaucracy or mismanaged inboxes.
There’s also a practical reality here: official merch can involve multiple layers: management, merch companies, designers, printers, tour staff. Any of which could be handling assets. Sometimes that complexity becomes a shield, intentional or not. If accountability is spread everywhere, it can feel like it’s located nowhere.
Still, if the claim is accurate, the “how did this happen?” question doesn’t erase the “why wasn’t it cleared?” question. In a genre that prides itself on authenticity, it’s not a great look when the people documenting the culture feel ignored.
The most pointed part of Laura Ioana V’s post isn’t even about Sleep Token specifically: it’s about what it feels like to be the person on the other end of the machine. She says a settlement was proposed by someone involved with the merchandise, and she felt the offer wasn’t fair. She also claims she was labelled “aggressive” for pushing back.
Her words: “As a small creator, it is a bit disheartening when you do something with passion, and it gets stolen for profit and dismissed like this… it seems to not be an isolated case.”
That’s a heavy accusation: not just “this happened,” but “this has happened before.” And whether or not it ultimately proves true, it speaks to a bigger tension in music: the people who help build the visual mythology of a band often have the least leverage when that mythology becomes monetised.
After asking followers to share her post in hopes of reaching the right people, Laura Ioana V later added an update saying Future History Management — Sleep Token’s management company — had been in touch: “Management finally got in contact so let’s see what solution they will have to this.”
As of the information provided here, there hasn’t been a public statement from Sleep Token or their representatives addressing the specific allegation.
Because if metal is a community, then the people capturing its most iconic moments shouldn’t have to go public just to be heard.
