Self-described “art terrorist” Banksy gets a phat profile in the latest issue of The New Yorker. While the invisible man of graffiti’s iron-clad non-identity remains one of the best kept secrets in the art world, febrile speculation continues to swirl.
What is known is that he was probably born in 1974, or 1978, in Bristol, England, or possibly the town of Yate; everything else is open to interpretation. At one point Brad Pitt weighs in, at a secret L.A. show last September where he snapped up several pieces: “These days everyone is trying to be famous, but he has anonymity. I think that’s great.” The man who rented the warehouse space in L.A, “Banksy is a genius and a madman,” who often wears T-shirts smeared with white paint, shorts and sneakers.
The Pitt comments stirred up reporters for another round of interrogating his dealer, Steve Lazarides, who some suspect actually is Banksy. In an e-mail interview, Banksy writes, “A few days after the show in Los Angeles opened I was painting under a freeway downtown when a homeless guy ran over and said, ‘Hey—are you Binsky? I left the next day.”
These days Banksy canvases routinely fetch six-figure prices at Sotheby’s, so there’s no telling how long the mystery will hold. “The art world is the biggest joke going,” he has said. “It’s a rest home for the overprivileged, the pretentious and the weak.”
