NOMAD Creatives Menu
It’s safe to assume that British graffiti artist Banksy will never give a TED Talk—despite some of his contemporaries already making the circuit. Nor is he likely to share a pint with Sir Ken Robinson at a local pub. Given his disdain for institutions of any kind, TED would likely receive the same mix of indifference and satire that defines much of his work.
While following Banksy’s month-long New York residency, I found an article on Salon titled “TED Talks Are Lying to You” by Thomas Frank, a regular contributor to Harper’s. Frank critiques the formulaic nature of books, speakers, and media surrounding creativity, with TED Talks at the center of the branding machine. He argues that the prevailing “creativity-will-save-the-future” narrative follows a predictable arc: the global economy is stagnating, affecting industries like business and education. According to intellectual elites, the prescribed solution is creativity. Corporate leaders, entrepreneurs, and social agencies suddenly turn to artists and designers for inspiration.
Cue the ironic laughter.
Banksy has been laughing since he first gained notoriety. A pseudonymous UK-based graffiti artist, filmmaker, and activist, his work combines dark humour, social commentary, and stencil-based graffiti. While I appreciate his art, I’m even more intrigued by his interactions with society—particularly how he challenges institutions like governments and museums. One of his most telling stunts during his New York residency perfectly ties back to Frank’s critique.
In October 2013, Banksy set up a pop-up art stall on a busy Central Park sidewalk, selling original spray-painted canvases for just $60 each. Unbeknownst to passersby, the pieces had an estimated market value of $250,000. Despite the staggering discrepancy in worth, the stall went largely unnoticed, with only a few purchases totalling $420 by the end of the day.
Banksy knew this would happen because he understands that creativity is subjective—especially in street art, which is often dismissed as vandalism. The key to recognition? Context. People would have valued those canvases only if they knew they were Banksy originals. His pop-up booth was less about selling art and more about exposing a harsh truth: our culture’s celebration of creativity is often tied to financial validation.
Frank’s critique rings true—despite the praise creativity receives through books and TED Talks, its value is often determined by the same institutions it supposedly disrupts. Had someone recognized Banksy’s work that day, a single savvy investor would have bought out the entire stall—not for its artistic merit, but for its financial appreciation over time.
For all its reverential talk about the rebel and the box breaker, society had no interest in new ideas at all unless they reinforced favorite theories or could be monetized in some obvious way.
Thomas Frank
And what about those who unknowingly purchased a Banksy original? Their appreciation was likely rooted in something purer—an unfiltered connection to the artwork. This naiveté is key to genuine creative engagement, like how children instinctively embrace imagination. Creativity, after all, isn’t confined to galleries or keynote speeches. It thrives in educators making the most of limited resources, caretakers stretching supplies, and professionals finding clever workarounds in rigid systems. These unsung innovators won’t headline a TED Talk like Banksy’s paintings went unnoticed on one busy October afternoon in Central Park, but their creativity is no less significant.
This blog post from 2013 has been rethought and rewritten for relevance.