A contemporary artist who always seeks to remain anonymous is very nearly a contradiction in terms.
An artist friend of mine (who most assuredly does exist) has doubts as to the physical existence of a "Banksy" himself, pointing-out that the term 'Banksy' had always previously meant (to her, and her friends) the state of being art-house / South Bank / modernist / radical / rebellious. Much of "Banksy's" work utilises stencils and print master-copies used to create multiple originals.
Also (like many great artists) he (if he truly is an embodied person) has many emulators, that happily follow his style in a movement sense, and there now exists a cosy accomodation of presumed provenance between 'vandalised' local authorities and 'Banksy'.
As someone else said to me (in a position to know, and with tongue firmly planted in cheek) "he certainly gets about". Indeed.
Portobello Road, Portobello Road
Street where the riches of ages are stowed
Anything and everything a chap can unload
Is sold off the barrow in Portobello road
You’ll find what you want in the Portobello road
Rare alabaster?
Genuine plaster!
A filigreed samovar owned by the czars?
A pen used by Shelley?
A new Boticelli?
The snipper that clipped old King Edward’s cigars?
Waterford Crystals?
Napoleon’s pistols?
Society heirlooms with genuine gems!
Rembrandts! El Grecos! Toulouse-Letrec’os!
Painted last week on the banks of the Thames!
Portobello Road, Portobello Road!
Street where the riches of ages are stowed
Anything and everything a chap can unload
Is sold off the barrow in Portobello Road
You’ll meet all your chums in the Portobello Road
There’s pure inspiration in every creation
No cheap imitations, not here in me store
With garments as such as was worn by a Duchess
Just once at some royal occasion of yore
In Portobello Road, Portobello Road
The fancies and fineries of ages are showed.
A lady will always feel dressed a la mode
In frillies she finds in the Portobello road
“Burke’s Peerage” “The Bride Book” “The Fishmonger’s Guidebook”
A Victorian novel, “The Unwanted Son”
“The History of Potting”
“The Yearbook of Yachting”
The leather bound “Life of Attila the Hun.”
Portobello Road, Portobello Road
Street where the riches of ages are stowed
Artifacts to glorify our regal abode
Are hidden in the flotsam in Portobello Road
Tokens and treasures, yesterday’s pleasures
Cheap imitations of heirlooms of old
Dented and tarnished, scarred and unvarnished
In old Portobello they’re bought and they’re sold
You can eat like a king here in Portobello Road