Published 2012
Review available in ArtGaze magazine December 2012
‘I can’t believe you morons actually buy this shit.’ – Banksy.
A
bit of a misleading book title; what made you think you were going to meet the
real Banksy, see what he looks like, read about his childhood? This book is not
shelved in the biography section, and yet it is one of the most interesting unauthorised
biographies I have read. Arguably the most recognisable name in graffiti,
Banksy appears to have grown up rough in Bristol and early on chose the
anonymity for which he is known (or not known). It’s an ironic ploy that has
worked for and against him ever since.
Ellsworth-Jones asked, ‘how important is Banksy in the whole urban art world?’ and discovered that Banksy ‘kick-started the market. He’s a household name. Everyone’s grandma knows Banksy.’
Ellsworth-Jones asked, ‘how important is Banksy in the whole urban art world?’ and discovered that Banksy ‘kick-started the market. He’s a household name. Everyone’s grandma knows Banksy.’
This
book reveals that everyone’s grandma actually knows Banksy’s art. If you
disregard the mystery surrounding him; the interviews in shadow, the disguised
voice, the loyalty and closed-shop of his team Pest Control, and the fact that
nobody’s saying who Banksy really is, what you have left is the art. The
pictures on walls; the stencils, the wry social comment – it all works well
with an artist not desperate for his fifteen minutes. Without a preconceived
perception of the artist as a man, the art can speak for itself.
I
found myself relating to the author while reading. He’s not involved in the art
world except for having an artistic appreciation for location-based art. He didn’t
meet Banksy, and only owns a knock-off stencil image despite waiting patiently
online while others queued overnight. Whatever your knowledge of or interest in
Banksy being labelled a street artist, a vandal, a national treasure or a
sell-out, you’ll find this the strongest biography of Banksy you’re going to
get to read unless his mother writes an exposé of his early years. Does he even have a
mother? Yes, there’s a little about her and a revealing incident from Banksy’s
pre-teen years, but no happy family photographs. There are few photographs of
any of the pieces referred to in the book, but it’s easy enough to go online to
find them. Or go on a cross-country trek as the author did using a guide book
to find the Banksy image in its natural habitat.
This contextual element of urban art is explored
intelligently by the author. Although Banksy graffities on surfaces that he
does not own as is the nature of the art, his celebrity drives people to
protect his pieces with perspex or have the wall for their own. Meanwhile his
contemporaries are fined or jailed and their pieces whitewashed. Contradictory
viewpoints are explored with Banksy saying that ‘public reaction is what
supplies meaning and value’, and @ashlee arguing that ‘the point of street art
is for it to exist in its natural environment. It is by nature temporary.’ Without
the urban desolation of its Detroit factory yard environment, does his ‘I
remember when all this was trees’ piece have as much impact sitting in a
gallery?
Banksy has an uneasy relationship with galleries.
After having snuck some detourned paintings into The Tate, he has now exhibited
at Bristol’s Gallery and created a high-price market for street art. Banksy
squared this with the audience and himself with Pest Control verifications and
posting online ‘For the sake of keeping street art where it belongs I’d
encourage people not to buy anything by anybody unless it was created for sale
in the first place’. When celebrities and millionaires collect Banksy’s ‘for
sale’ artwork, both his personal wealth and popularity increase. Banksy may
have been feeling a little hypocritical but felt like he had an important
message to convey about the absurdity of paying large sums of money for street
art taken out of its context. His ‘I can’t believe you morons actually buy this
shit’ print may have referenced the 25 million pound sale of Van Gogh’s
Sunflowers, but it is also confronting (or amusing depending on your
viewpoint). A commenter on his website noted this piece was the ultimate ‘portion
of irony eating itself’. Whether street art should only be accessible to those
who can appreciate it in situ, or however Banksy makes his money, I am grateful
to him for opening my heart to street art.
Banksy’s
site www.banksy.co.uk/index.html
Street art images below by me on instagram