As unmaskings go, last week’s big Banksy reveal would have made for a pretty drab Scooby Doo plotline. The phenomenally popular artist has kept his real identity kinda-sorta under wraps for more than three decades; fans had varyingly speculated that the man behind street-art favourites “Girl with Balloon” and “Kissing Coppers” could be anyone from Massive Attack musician Robert Del Naja to Art Attack host Neil Buchanan. His trademark style is as recognisable as any in contemporary art – bold stencil paintings, with pithy political meanings – as is his MO for exhibition. Many is the property owner who’s woken up thinking “oh crumbs, my wall’s been defaced”, only to realise that their wall has become the canvas for some very valuable art. Yet the man himself has always been opaque. This week, Reuters claimed to have definitively identified the enigmatic artist – via details from a historical police report – as the Bristolian man formerly known as Robin Gunningham (but who is claimed to have legally changed his name to David Jones, in a bid to preserve his anonymity).
As surprises go, it’s a little on the, well, unsurprising side. Jones/Gunningham is a name that’s been mooted several times down the years, as far back as 2008 by the Mail on Sunday, and in 2016 by researchers at the Queen Mary University of London, who claimed to have proven the artist’s identity using “geotracking” analysis. Many of the finer details of Jones/Gunningham’s life are still unknown: it’s reported by The Telegraph that he is “very probably” the owner of the multi-million-pound company NTS Services Limited, (formerly Nothing To See Limited), that he may now reside in the US, and that he lived for a time with a female partner not too long ago. Gunningham attend private school as a child – a vocational irony that did not go unremarked upon by the papers back in 2007. But among Banksy fans, there has long been a general attitude of wilful obliviousness – preserving the veneer of anonymity long after credible-sounding reports of Banksy’s real identity surfaced. It’s much like that scene in Spider-Man 2, when Peter Parker’s mask comes off, and a train full of grateful civilians collectively agree to forget his face.
Banksy’s lawyer told Reuters that the artist “does not accept that many of the details contained within your enquiry are correct”, and reiterated his reasons for keeping his identity private. Part of this is to do with safety: he claims that Banksy has “been subjected to fixated, threatening and extremist behaviour” in the past. But part of it is broader, more ideological. “[Working] anonymously or under a pseudonym serves vital societal interests,” he said. “It protects freedom of expression by allowing creators to speak truth to power without fear of retaliation, censorship or persecution – particularly when addressing sensitive issues such as politics, religion or social justice.”
Perhaps the biggest incentive for Banksy to remain a John Doe is unstated: at heart, more than anything, it may be a branding issue. The mystery around Banksy’s identity has been one of the most consistently pored-over facets of his work, and the notion that he may in fact just be some guy – a former public schoolboy no less – will diffuse much of his hard-earned mystique. And yet, it’s also true that many of the incentives Banksy once had for staying anonymous have dissipated. He’s no longer under any realistic threat of public prosecution for vandalism. His artworks, some of which have sold at auctions for eight-figure sums, have been embraced by the very establishment he seeks to critique (even if they’re regarded by some as trite and simplistic).
What’s more, for someone so concerned with anonymity, Banksy has been, in a sense, hyper-visible. Where once he could show up and spray on a random street corner, now his (increasingly ambitious) pieces take military stealth to execute. His artworks have been displayed in galleries. He’s directed an Oscar-nominated documentary (2010’s Exit Through the Gift Shop). He has his own Instagram page, where he shares pictures of his art, and the occasional behind-the-scenes making-of video. In 2015 he opened his own satirical theme park, known as Dismaland – a sprawling undertaking near a Somerset beachfront. He’s often showcased his work at Glastonbury – the graffiti-sprayed stab-proof vest worn by Stormzy, or the inflatable migrant boat that bounced around the crowd during a set by Idles. These are not the actions of a furtive graffiti vandal, but the ostentatious performances of an artist in the public eye.
Banksy may be the world’s highest-profile anonymous artist, but he’s also not the only one. Elena Ferrante, the best-selling Italian author of The Lost Daughter and My Brilliant Friend, has never revealed her true name. Emergent drill rapper EsDeeKid has kept his identity obscured with a balaclava, prompting (now-dispelled) speculation that he was in fact Dune actor Timothée Chalamet. Other artists such as Daft Punk and Orville Peck have opted to keep their faces obscured by masks, even if their real names have been a matter of public record.
The question, I suppose, is whether the public and the media have a duty to respect an artist’s desire for anonymity. To some extent, there is a significant difference between privacy – a right that everyone has – and anonymity. Putting oneself out in the world via art, whether that’s in live performance or stencils-on-buildings, is in itself an act of disclosure, and the bigger Banksy got, the more inevitable it became that his veil of discretion would be dislodged.
From an academic standpoint, it is useful to be able to discuss and analyse Banksy’s work in the light of his personhood. While there are those out there who subscribe to the Roland Barthes “Death of the Author” school of thought – the idea that authorial intention and biography ought to be disregarded in artistic criticism – art has, by and large, always been informed and interpreted through the context of its creator. And when an artist is as ubiquitous as Banksy, this context is going to be actively sought out, whether he likes it or not. Knowing who Banksy is – or supposedly is – doesn’t diminish the art’s power, but adds to it, infuses it with new meanings and contradictions.
I can only imagine that this new unmasking will change very little. It’s hard to see Banksy suddenly embracing the celebrity lifestyle, attending movie premieres and going on the Off Menu podcast. There’s something romantic about his fidelity to a pseudonym, and many of his fans will continue to observe it. The truth is, no real man could ever live up to the outsized myth of Banksy. Not even Neil Buchanan.
