Issue 83 / November 2017

The underground street art movement of the Secret Society Of Super Villain
Artists has sparked an overground collision of art and politics by shedding light
on the shady practices of the Sincura group. We ask The Urban Art Anarchist
how this translates to our view of art ownership.
There’s an abandoned concrete shell of a building on Brick Street
in the Baltic Triangle that has come to stand for more than
just the failed enterprise that it is. With rusting spikes of steel
reinforcements sprouting from its unfinished structure, the grandly
titled Baltic House site (part of the Gallery+ portfolio, between Jamaica
Street, Brick Street, Saint James Street and Norfolk Street) now serves as
a monument to deception and empty promises, which may well implicate
more than just the site’s owners, North Point Global. Similarly eerie sites
in Pall Mall and the nearby New Chinatown development have also been
shelved by NPG in the early build stages due to a failure of investment
to materialise – but what makes the botched Baltic House site more of a
damning tale is the slated inclusion of a “unique public art feature”, which
has disappeared along with a number of artworks.
The glossy demonstrations of the site were launched with a planned
street art gallery and museum as part of the residential and retail complex.
One of the initial partners on the project was Sincura Group, a concierge
and lifestyle management company, who have been busy amassing a
portfolio of “rare and exclusive artwork, from rare classics to modern
street art”, including a number of Banksys. With the recent removal of
popular Banksy pieces from Liverpool streets – including the Love Plane
on Rumford Street, and a less well known piece behind Lime Street – the
sense of disappointment at their extraction was tinged with hope at the
prospect of actually seeing the art on display in a dedicated gallery. Since
NPG pulled out of the project and left the Baltic and Berry House sites
deserted, all hope of seeing the iconic artwork again has disappeared with
them.
So, when a mural appeared on Jamaica Street in mid-August hitting
out at the “stealing” of Banksy artworks, our interest was, naturally, piqued.
While speculation raged that this was the iconic Bristol artist hitting back –
at both Sincura group, and Liverpool City Council for allegedly selling them
the land where the artwork was found – another group of people revelled
in the misplaced attention. A collective known as the Secret Society Of
Super Villain Artists were barely able to contain their mirth at the public’s
sudden interest and willingness to believe that the hand of Banksy had
bestowed upon them another piece of art, knowing as they did that the
mural was the work of two of their members. Never heard of them? That’s
understandable – but you’ve almost definitely happened upon some of
their work. Various pieces produced by branches of the SSOSVA have
been spotted at Glastonbury, Bloodstock, Jodrell Bank, the Lennon Wall
in Prague, outside the Cereal Café on Brick Lane, on a poster at Jeremy
Corbyn’s pre-election rally in West Kirby, even outside Banksy’s Walled
Off Hotel in the West Bank. In fact, once you open your eyes, you see
signs of them everywhere – and their stock in trade isn’t just limited to
graffiti and stencils. Stickers, posters, soap, chocolate bars, ceramic plates,
skateboard designs, Super Tuesday US election ballot papers (“Vote for the
most corrupt!’): there’s virtually nothing that doesn’t fall under their remit,
featuring iterations of their core skull and crossbones logo.
Artist Silent Bill, who is reticent to confirm or deny responsibility
for any work adorning the walls of Liverpool, is the SSOSVA’s de facto
spokesperson, having produced a number of books spanning the
staggering breadth of work the collective have produced. Operating under
an umbrella of anonymity, Bill and his fellow artists are free to make jokes,
satirise and criticise the world around them, for us to see and reflect upon.
Recycling Warrior, MisterAitch (AKA The Propaganda Minister), Silent
Belle, Rip, Angus, John Doh: these artists could be anyone, meaning that
the messages they convey represent an everyman viewpoint. They give
us a voice and a platform to question the structures of our society, while
simultaneously reclaiming public spaces that are awash with advertising
and signs telling you what you can and can’t do.
In many ways, the work that street artists like Banksy and the SSOSVA
do is a form of anarchist activism, deliberately asking provocative questions
of us and the state to find out where our place is in it. “For artists and
people alike: we fight the good fight,” runs the manifesto on the SSOSVA’s
website. “We are set on making a difference in the world while having a
good time doing it.”
After tracking Silent Bill down on the internet (which wasn’t difficult),
I set up a meeting to chat about the implications of his and the SSOSVA’s
work at the intersection of art and politics – and there’s so much to talk
about. Bill decries the Sincura Group – who list one of his own pieces as
an “authentic” Banksy on their website – as much as the “dickhead with
enough money to buy a house who’s bought [a Banksy] for his trophy
cabinet and it’s not what he thinks.” But he largely leaves the finer points of
drawing conclusions up to us – because there are no shortcuts to answers
to be found in his work, only questions for us to solve ourselves.
On building a guerrilla movement
“With the Secret Society I did it for the laugh! I sent out applications – and
then people started filling them out and sending them back, so I redirected
them to the Tate for a joke! When the Tate started getting nasty
with us because they were getting so many applications, I thought, ‘Shit,
this has got some momentum, we could do something with this’. And then
we started encouraging people to do stuff, and we’ve now exhibited round
the world: Australia, Miami, London, Liverpool. But we always do stuff for
the homeless, auctions and the like via Facebook. They raise a couple of
grand; we’ve helped with sensory rooms, we’ve helped kids with cleft lips,
we’ve done fucking loads – too much to remember. It’s got a life of its own
now. Everyone wants to be like a fucking superhero, don’t they?”
On appreciating the art
“To me, vandalism is mindless. Smashing stuff up in bus stops – it’s
disgusting. I like to have a message in my work, socio-political stuff. I’ll
have a little bit of a dig at something, because Liverpool’s not a place to sit
down and take it. I’m probably going to end up getting into shit one day.
It’s a risk, a dirty job, but I do it because it’s my only voice. I can’t go out and
change the world with my vote, but you never know with this.
“You’ll read people saying, ‘Oh, that’s vandalism.’ I know where that’s
coming from, but, at the end of the day, we all have to look at these
billboards we don’t want to see, we all have to swallow all kinds of shit.
Fucking do something! I always say that one person can’t change the
world, but one person can change the world of someone else. Like, stop
and chat to a homeless guy who hasn’t spoken to someone in weeks,
you know you’ll have changed that guy’s day. I, personally, can’t eradicate
homelessness – but, if every single person were to go out and do that little
thing, it would make a difference.”
On the rules of anonymity
“We don’t condone vandalism. We don’t want anyone vandalising people’s
work, bringing us into disrepute. That’s all we ask: treat everyone else the
same way as you’d want to be treated. It’s not lawless, there are unwritten
rules. You don’t give away people’s real names. Every artist we meet uses a
name – but they’re not our names.
“What you find is a lot of people think anonymous artists are cool – ‘Oh,
Banksy’ – but it’s not like that. What you’ll find is that a lot of us work in
a sector that’s involves a helping, caring environment: lots of us are social
workers and support workers. The very nature of it means that I can’t
be helping people that have just got out of prison, and then going out
committing crimes every day. The best way to subvert anything is to fully
understand it, and that’s why I think a lot of [our artists] work within these
sectors, and they fully understand it more than anyone. These people who
go looting and wear Nike, kicking in the windows, they don’t get it. We’re
from within and know what happens and gradually chip away; that’s the
way forward.
“So that’s the nature of the anonymous part. Nobody I know [in SSOSVA]
has done it because they think it’s cool: it’s a necessity. I could put my
name on thousands of pieces, pretend to be a tiger and say ‘Look at me,
I’m everywhere’. That’s why I don’t put my name on things, I don’t care.
The message is done. It could be anyone. There are better mediums to get
your message across, and I think this is the best medium I can work with.
My work gets seen by lots of people, the papers pick it up, it’s done. Once
you’ve seen it you can’t un-see it.”
On the ‘Banksy Effect’ of publicity
“Let’s say, for instance, that the piece [the mural on Jamaica Street] was
me, and that message was done: I’m happy with that message. Now, let’s
say that exact same piece, looking exactly the same, is a Banksy. What’s
the difference? The message is still there. I don’t care who’s done it. The
point has already been achieved, by a lot of people seeing it and a lot of
people reacting to it.
“That particular piece had a massive impact because of the nature of what
it was. To have massive impact, it’s got to get the reach, and it’s got to be
a good message. Every single artist, they’re lying to you if they say they
don’t want their work to be seen by as many people as possible; that’s the
whole point. I want that message to be seen, I want that message as far
out as it can go. And, sadly, a lot of the smaller artists like ourselves, we
just don’t get that exposure. The illusion of it does not fit the fantasy. The
romanticism far outweighs the reality.”
On value
“At what point does the value come on it? It’s all a fraud, the whole thing’s
a fraud. It’s like the stuff that gets taken from the walls: Banksy doesn’t see
a penny from that, so if they want them that bad, speak to his agent and
commission one. They’re taking it from where it was originally intended.”
On art in the public realm
“Once it’s on the street, it’s no longer yours. It’s in the public domain. Stuff
on the street is for the street, it’s meant to die on the street, see out the end
of its life there. In two minutes someone might spray over it, or it might stay
for five years, get knocked down with the wall… you can’t moan about it.
It’s only when it’s fucking stolen and sold that it becomes a problem.
“Some people say the only way you can make an impact is stunts. I don’t
really like things like that, I just like it to be my own thing. If I wanted, I could
go and print a palette load of fake notes and throw them off the roof of the
Pyramids and cause a riot. You’re selling your soul then, aren’t you, really?
You’re basically theatre. Like some art in installations where you’re the art,
you’re the theatre piece. And I’m not into that.”
On legacy
I think everyone’s really sensitive of what people think of them. I’d like
to think I’ve had a little go. I’m a lad from a council estate: if I was to die
tomorrow, I’d be very happy with everything I’ve done so far. It’s not much,
but more than I should have. I’m happy. Fuck everything else.
“I know the risks. In my book it says something like, ‘I read about the risks
of graffiti once – so I stopped reading’. You know what you’re doing in this
game, but is it worth it? Is anything worth it? The way I view it, it’s not
going to go out and write itself. But at the same time, it’s just paint on a
wall. That’s all it is. Paint on a wall.” !
Words: Christopher Torpey / @CATorp
Photography: Mike Sheerin / michaelsheerin.photoshelter.com
Artwork: Supplied by Silent Bill
ssosva.com
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