Erasing does not always mean forgetting; sometimes it is the opposite
On September 8th, the renowned street artist, part of Deodato’s roster, Banksy, unveiled a new mural on the walls of London’s Royal Courts of Justice. The striking artwork depicted a judge in court dress wielding a gavel against a protester holding a blood-smeared protest sign, seemingly critiquing the tension between the authority and the opposition.
The powerful mural was short-lived, erased just hours later by the authorities, sparking a heated debate about censorship and the fragility of artistic expression in public spaces.
Erasure Power
The authorities might have demolished the artwork, but the message is further amplified. The act of erasing, unknowingly creates more sound, louder than ever, further proving Banksy’s point. This is not new. The censorship of political artwork has long been part of the conversation, long before this demolition.
But why? Many argue that art and politics stand at opposite ends, that art should not meddle in the affairs of politics and remain pure. Others may see differently: art has always been political.
A closer look at the history shows the relation between the two worlds has always been intertwined from Jacques-Louis David's painting of the French Revolution, to Diego Rivera's mural erased by the Rockefellers, to Banksy's recent intervention. Art has consistently clashed with authority.
In trying to erase, suppress, and censor it, authorities further empower the message behind. Art speaks in ways power cannot. It cut across all classes, languages, and ideologies, turning walls into canvases of resistance instead of weapons of control.
Art vs. Authority
This constant battle between authority and artistic expression is as old as art itself. Banksy knows exactly what he was doing when he tagged the wall of the High Court: a building meant to embody fairness and neutrality suddenly became a canvas symbolizing the opposite, challenging those very ideals.
Authorities may justify the demolition as preservation of stone, but it is the act of silencing, a power-exercised act in which authority is inserted. And Banksy played a part in exposing, intentionally or not.
This tension extends globally like in the U.S., with murals painted after George Floyd death, which the city workers later erased; Shepard Fairey’s “Hope” poster, once considered vandalism, became a vital symbol for Obama’s 2008 presidential campaign and now canonized in the Smithsonian; the chalk ban across university campuses due to the chalk-led protest art.
The pattern is clear as day: authorities seek control over public narratives, and when the public insists on a different narrative, they suppress it. Only to face a harsh truth that the message echoed louder than the original wall ever allowed.
Now Political Climate and Its Effects On Art
As the global political landscape grows increasingly polarized, so does this resistance. It is unlikely to soften. Attempts to silence voices will continue, but the messages behind them will amplify and spread faster than wildfire, especially now in the age of digital.
The future of political art may be uncertain, but it is precise that in that tension, between silence and defiance, that its power endures.
In this battle, every attempt to erase only ensures that its voice will be heard louder.