There I was, spray painting on the church hall, when alongside me appeared another street artist.
I paused, momentarily affronted.
In some places, that level of stepping-upon-one’s-toes – sharing the wall they’re defacing – would be enough to start a turf war. But I was only spraying my signature pig – with my tag Snort beneath it – so felt not the need to resort to violence.
The wall was big enough. We weren’t exactly touching elbows.
“Hello there,” I said, an attempt to override violent stereotypes.
She peeked out from beneath her hoodie and I think nodded, but I couldn’t be sure because of the hood.
When my pig was finished, I stood back to watch her, enthralled by the skill on show: the number of layers, the swiftness and accuracy; the fluidity, never still.
This was clearly a pro. An actual street artist.
It was then that it occurred to me who I was not quite rubbing shoulders with; this was the most famous living street artist of them all.
I was watching the actual Banksy paint an original Banksy! — which was confirmed for me a moment later when she sprayed her name beneath her piece.
Banksy
“Nice dog,” she said, indicating my pig, before gathering her materials and gliding off.
I had just been complimented by the Banksy. Or I think I had been. It seemed sincere, even if she thought my pig was a dog.
I stood back, appreciating her work, of a policeman strapped to the underside of a drone, peering through a pair of binoculars.
It was definitely better than I could do, even though I’d just completed one of my best pigs yet.
In a way it was one of Banksy’s best pigs too.
vss #31
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Phillip Drown 
😂
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