I was in the Museum the other day, looking at some drawings. It was nice to be able to get in there again, after the long summer of the Banksy exhibition, and I popped upstairs to say hello to the stuffed animals, several of which have found their way into my own drawings.
And then I met Sandra and had a cup of tea while talking about Banksy and stuff. Sandra thought that it was a Good Thing that the museum had thrown its doors open to Banksy, as his stuff is very Now, and Vernacular, and Street. (I hope I'm not misrepresenting you too much, S...). I'm less sure; it seemed to me a bit like repressive tolerance. Out on the streets, the City Council no longer automatically paint over graffiti; they must first determine whether it is art. And if it is art, it stays. At least, if the people who are paid to determine whether it is art, say that it is.
Coincidentally, young Katie was recently fizzing and popping about developments at school.
Last year, the children had asked for a graffiti wall.
They have finally been granted one.
A graffiti artist was paid to come in and paint the graffiti wall for them.