Embarking upon college dorm life many years ago as a green, socially awkward, and very insecure anonymous freshman I was hellbent on not replicating the social ostracism and timidity that had marked my high school years.
This was a time to remake myself. All was a clean slate; I was free of baggage and past associations. I was in a new town, among strangers. The image I created would be mine. I would control it.
The task at hand was to make a splash, a big one, and quickly, before doubt and lack of confidence and the ordinariness and banality of slow osmosis into the social fabric branded me as once again anonymous, or worse, as someone to be mocked.
So, I came up with a plan. I would introduce myself as someone anonymous. A mystery man. Someone who breathed and walked in your midst, yet who was unknown.
On the first day I moved in, I plastered my calling card -- sight unseen -- on doors all over the 12th-floor dorm. Sometimes there was only text; sometimes there was text with a crudely drawn masked figure. The cards, pasted or taped on the doors, simply said: "The Phantom was Here."
In short order, the dormies were abuzz about the Phantom. Who was he? What was his game?
Not long thereafter, during a well-timed spell, it came out that I was the perpetrator. I had established a mystique, a rebellious air, and I made fast friends, and some fast enemies, but I was a force to be reckoned with, and respected, and nobody but nobody treated me in that dorm the way kids had treated me in high school.
From here, my story and Banksy's diverge, but I mention it by way of making a point. The Bristol-London-cosmopolitan street artist, Banksy, of course, made his splash through-hit-and run graffiti imagery, cultivating an anonymous Robin Hood persona that he still maintains. That he had/has talent is not really the point. The point was how to make a mark in a world where so many other talented artists toil forever in obscurity, people with names and faces who are nonetheless anonymous. Conversely, Banksy is anonymous and has no face, but he and his art are famous. Bansky created a mystique, via anonymity, via street-cred rebellion, and via a playful accessible art form that plebes and patricians alike could like. Whether by accident or design, or both, Banksy caught the zeitgeist, and the issues surrounding his rise, his art, his methods, his engagement with the public and art circles and the social order and commerce are central and intriguing ones for our time, or any time where art is still considered relevant.
This "unauthorised" book by Will-Ellsworth Jones seems to me very much in the spirit of Banksy. It is breezy and cheeky, and though it is sometimes messy, inconsistent, and tabloid-ish, it is in its best moments incredibly thoughtful and extremely informative. Without having any access to Banksy or his inner crew (particularly those in his Pest Contol organization charged with authenticating his works), the author has done a marvelous end run and the homework gets at least an A-. There's hardly an issue about the nature of contemporary art and art marketing that is not discussed, and, as much as the author can under the circumstances, he provides a fair, respectful, critical and admiring portrait of an artist straddling a line in an interesting world of his own creation.
As Ellsworth-Jones writes: "....[Banksy] appears to have reached the awkward point where he wants to remain somehow part of that [street] subculture while his very success makes it almost impossible for him to do so."
For Banksy, while raising the profile of street art to a new level has entered that inevitable realm that comes with success: the classic push me/pull you of being authentic and being a sell out, of selling art to the very masters of commerce that you despise. One example of the Banksy dilemma is stated by one wag who has branded him a "champagne socialist." Ellsworth-Jones, to his credit, has balanced such characterizations, noting that Banksy's charitable efforts and various limits on what he chooses to sell, and to whom, has made him far less wealthy than he might otherwise be. Banksy himself notes that it's no crime to want to eat from your work labors, but at the same time he has not cultivated ostentation or gratuitous wealth.
On the whole, this book is a very astute examination of the Bansky phenomenon. The book is stronger toward the end than at the beginning, so stick with it. Its final chapter on elite/obscure versus accessible/popular art, and where Banksy fits into that debate, is well pondered.
The chapter about the circumstances of the making of Banky's controversial documentary Exit Through the Gift Shop is a must-read companion piece to that film, since it lays out the perplexing issues raised by the film.
The author clearly understands the genius of Banksy, the things about his place in the art world that mark him quite apart from the works themselves. The way Banksy and his team have vertically integrated street art into the world of "high art," his bypassing of traditional distribution channels, and his use of the internet to create buzz are just part of this ingenuity. Along the way we are treated to other interesting dilemmas, such as the challenges of authenticating works that in some cases can't easily be authenticated and the ever-iffy notion of who actually "owns" art.
This is partly a biography and partly an examination of the contemporary art world, and how Bansky introduced a new avenue into that world, and for that the book is deeply fascinating.
If you can overlook the book's faults, fans of art and of Banksy will find it rewarding.
(I had written tons of notes about the issues raised in this book, but, like a Bansky work of street art, I'm going to let those fade...like a phantom.)
(KevinR@Ky 2016)