According to Wikipedia, ‘art is a diverse range of human activity and its resulting product that involves creative or imaginative talent generally expressive of technical proficiency, beauty, emotional power or conceptual ideas’.
According to me, art can be anything that comes from the heart, mind or hands of the person who created it.
Of course, that’s because I’d like to be able to call myself an artist without possessing much technical skill.
But it’s true that beauty, or intrigue, really is in the eye of the beholder.
I like unusual art, subjects that push boundaries, creations that are quite unique and not indistinguishable between artists, something you can look at and know undoubtedly who created it.
As a teenager, I submitted three drawings exploring the concepts of rape, abortion and sexually-transmitted disease to an exhibition my school was putting on at the public art gallery.
They weren’t accepted due to their shocking nature, despite the amount of thought and time I’d put into them and the amount of graphite that had stained my skin doing so.
I was proud of my submissions.
I understand now how showing such pieces at a school-based event in the ‘90s was possibly stepping over the line, but at the time, I felt censored because the topics were quite apt among my peer group. I personally knew teenagers who’d battled all of those challenges and it felt like they were being swept under the rug. Nobody wanted to look the issues in the face.
Fast forward to 2024 and we’ve got all sorts of confronting and thought-provoking art on a smorgasbord we can access any time of day from anywhere we sit, thanks to the digital age.
Perhaps the most telling sign of art’s power is the compelling sensation of feeling some kind of way when you look at it.
Banksy, whoever he is, does this for me.
His art makes me feel ashamed of my First World privilege.
It’s humbling. It makes me feel grateful for where I was born, the opportunities I’ve been presented, the conflict I’ve avoided, the food I’ve eaten, the warmth I’ve been comforted by, and so on.
His art is ironic and punny.
On occasion, it’s punny in a funny way, but usually, it’s in a biting way, as if to call the audience out and inspire it to take a good, hard look at itself.
The Art of Banksy Without Limits exhibition is currently showing in Melbourne, at The District in The Docklands.
It is one hell of an impressive exhibition.
The comprehensive collection of the pseudo-anonymous artist’s work will make you feel all sorts of things, with topics exploring politics, war, fashion, fame, love, childhood, consumerism and how one of the most important lessons Mother Teresa taught us was to use moisturiser regularly.
This might have been the only piece I laughed at after admiring his technical skills in his oil paintings, getting excited about seeing the piece I have tattooed on my leg, being fascinated by his seemingly simple street stencil art packing such a powerful punch and shedding a quiet tear for the depicted children of war.
As no qualified art critic, I can easily say his technical artistic skills stretch far and wide across several mediums.
As a layman, that’s what I saw.
On entry, there is a timeline about the beginnings and rise of the mysterious artist — whose real name and identity remain unconfirmed — before heading through to see the carefully arranged art in the gallery beyond while listening to a psychedelic musical soundtrack.
There are recreated murals stencilled on walls larger than life including seven new murals Banksy created in war-torn Ukraine, a simulation of his largest art piece Dismaland (a gritty pop-up amusement park), an infinity room filled with mirrors reflecting imagery of his art and a room inspired by the 30-metre-long Navy ship he decorated in response to the crisis in the Mediterranean.
I was in Melbourne with a friend for a concert the night before when I saw this exhibition had opened there.
I missed it in Sydney in May due to clashing flight and opening times, so I asked my friend if she wanted to pop in for a look at it in our state’s capital before heading back to Shepp.
She said it wasn’t really ‘her thing’, but seeing as it was my birthday, she obligingly came along.
She ended up loving it.
And I think you will too, whether you see yourself as being ‘into art’ or not.
If you find yourself in Melbourne before August 4, go take a look.
It’s open seven days a week (varying times each day) and you’ll need about an hour or two to fully immerse yourself in the experience. It’s suitable for all ages, and the staff are the friendliest city folk I’ve ever come across.