Why

Work by Banksy

By M. Parfitt

People ask me why I do what I do, why I use the materials I use to create my "stuff." What could possibly inspire me to make art from hundreds of photos of dog crap, or a quilt from used sanitary napkins, or a collage from bloody squares of gauze? The answer is simple. I blame it on my brother.

Back when we were kids, Joe and I delighted in offending each other. We mixed up concoctions of leftover food to create deadly science projects. We tortured insects. We made spears tipped with dog droppings and flung them at each other in wild backyard battles.

I filled jars with water, grass, and bugs, then left them to ferment for months, only to uncork them- and release a mighty, noxious stench- when Joe least expected it. He chased me through the house with snot-covered fingers. We constantly tried to outdo each other with grossness.

Eventually, he won. He created something so disgusting, I had to admit defeat. And to this day, it makes its way through my subconscious and into my work.

The thing was so simple! A sheet of notebook paper, folded again and again, then opened to reveal a grid of individual squares. In each square, a carefully smeared booger or line of snot. Across the top, the neatly printed words: "BOOGER SAMPLER. TAKE ONE."

In itself, the piece was shocking, sickening, a true masterpiece of warped imagination. But it led to a revelation which for me, has justified all the pieces I've made since.

The revelation was a surprise to both of us. My brother, amazed and a little embarrassed by what he had created, put the Booger Sampler in his homeroom desk at school. During the day, class after class filed in and out of the room. Student after student sat at the desk. The next morning, back in his homeroom, Joe fully expected the vile thing to be gone, victim of a zealous janitor or horrified kid.

Reaching in his desk, he found the Sampler where he had left it. He pulled it out. He looked at it. And there, along the right-hand side of the page, a square had been carefully torn out. Somebody actually TOOK ONE.

The lesson I learned from the Booger Sampler was this: there's an audience for everything. No matter what it is, someone will like it. Someone will appreciate it and understand it. That's the connection all artists hope for. So when I put my stuff out there for all to see, I know I'll probably offend some folks, but I also know that someone will see my work and connect with it.

Just like the lucky kid who, twenty years ago, reached into his school desk and discovered a treat.