I’ve got a bone to pick.
To be specific, I’m tired of having to pretend Banksy is anything other than the poster child of the infuriatingly lazy self-indulgence that passes for art, social criticism and political activism in today’s scene.
Banksy is an elusive street artist who started in London but whose work can be found stenciled onto walls of cities around the globe from Brooklyn to the Gaza Strip. Since the explosive response to his documentary, "Exit Through the Gift Shop," Banksy has become world famous. His work usually serves as commentary on social and political issues of the day, ranging from rampant consumerism to National Security Agency surveillance.
All of this hinges on the "mystery" of his identity. "Banksy," after all, is merely a nom de plume, which he and his fans claim exists to shield him from imprisonment — graffiti is, after all, illegal — but is quite clearly a marketing ploy meant to enhance the #brand of the world’s most insufferable pop artist.
See, the thing is, Banksy is actually bullshit. Technically speaking, his work looks good, which would be fine if the bar for good art were set at "realistic-looking." But realism fell out of vogue around the 1880s. Art has to do more than look pretty; it should say something.
Unfortunately, Banksy’s statements are the art equivalent of two-, maybe three-word sentences. "Consumerism is bad." Not that I disagree with Banksy’s messages; it’s just that his works are so lazy and obvious that they are artistically and politically pointless. They’re only vaguely anti-consumerist and anti-authoritarian, completely lacking any amount of substance that would challenge the viewer to, I don’t know, actually think about these things. They’re anti-war and anti-corporate in the same way the Democratic Party is: not really.
Every Banksy piece functions in essentially the same way. He takes a child or a cultural icon (for example, Dorothy from "The Wizard of Oz") and subjects that figure to harassment or exploitation by either the police or by Ronald McDonald and Mickey Mouse at the same time. From this ham-fisted juxtaposition, Banksy produces commentary. His technique is just as subtle as dressing Colonel Sanders in an SS uniform, and I’m genuinely shocked he hasn’t done this by now.
His most famous work to date has been "Dismaland," a seaside parody of theme parks complete with a Disney castle (but spooky!) and ridable dolphins situated over BP oil drums.
Interested? You can purchase your very own collection of his low-hanging fruits at your local Urban Outfitters for a reasonable $22.95.
I don’t know what’s more infuriating about Banksy — the fact that he thinks of himself as a genius/great guy, or the flocks of rubes who trample over each other for a chance to slop up this garbage.
An example of Banksy’s real-world activism: He’s dismantling "Dismaland" and shipping the used timber to Calais for refugees to build shelters. He’s sending them his trash. It’s like he’s saying, "Here, build yourselves some lean-tos with this stuff I no longer need."
But for all that, I really wouldn’t mind him all that much if it weren’t for the massive number of liberal millennials who hold him up as the finest expression of their beliefs. If Banksy is an icon of anti-establishment politics, then I’m Rosa goddamn Luxemburg.
That’s what really irks me about him, I guess; the warm reception his brand of pre-chewed art has in our generation epitomizes the shallowness of our politics. For us, the political process is an opportunity for another participation trophy. We get to look at an art piece and feel good about ourselves for thinking McDonald’s is problematic, even though we’ll consume it later this week. In the meantime, the Trans-Pacific Partnership gets finalized right over our heads with nary a peep of discontent from anybody.
Alec Carver is a UF history junior. His column appears on Fridays.
