Am I the only person in Britain who thinks Banksy’s works are repetitive, mediocre, and pretty trivial? I doubt even if it’s one person doing it – following a pretty simple formula, you could produce Banksy type ‘art works’ ad nauseum. And who does he – she – or they – think he is painting art works on anywhere he pleases? A few years back I walked along the coast at Clevedon and came across a beautiful stone look-out shelter where people had sat to watch out for ships returning from all around the world. It had recently been restored and the stone beautifully cleaned. And there it was, on top of this perfectly restored stone-work – a Banksy. (Or, a piece of work done by someone who had worked out how to mimic his style.) Who the hell does he think he is? That his ephemeral, hastily painted formuliac art can be plastered anywhere? Whoever he is, if you want to find him, start by looking for someone whose ego is large enough to show up on Google Earth.
Good on the people who chipped the Banksy off their privately owned wall to sell. The idea that ‘the community’ owns the Banksy work is laughable. Any old wall in any old town does not become public property, does not suddenly gain the status of a listed building, just because a work of art, the value of which lies chiefly in the carefully cultivated celebrity status of its producer, has appeared on it.