TVBoy, the urban artist behind the kiss between Broncano and Pablo Motos: “We owe it to Banksy to stop us from being seen as vandals” | Culture

“I’m not Banksy, I’m not Banksy,” the urban artist Salvatore Benintende (Palermo, 43 years old), better known as TVBoy, responds with a laugh when asked for his full name. The Italian, who has lived in Barcelona for years, became accustomed to seeing his name linked to that of the British in the press when his works began to stand out. He takes it philosophically, anticipates the comparison and assures that it doesn’t bother him. Furthermore, he recognizes the importance of probably the most relevant urban artist: “We owe it to Banksy and other artists to not be seen as vandals,” he says in a video call.

Benintende began to stand out last decade with his paintings of kisses between famous people. In 2017, his work Love is blind, The photo of Messi and Ronaldo kissing on Passeig de Gràcia became world famous. Other kisses followed: that same year, the then president Mariano Rajoy had an affair with the leader of the opposition, Pedro Sánchez; later, Sánchez with Carles Puigdemont, and Alba Flores with Úrsula Corberó. “I use celebrities to attract the public’s attention, because a kiss between two strangers wouldn’t have the same impact,” she explains. The latest kiss to go viral, this June, was that of David Broncano and Pablo Motos, on Calle Pelayo in Madrid. “There is a lot of talk about the rivalry between the two.”

The ultimate goal is not to go viral, says TVBoy, but to make people think. “I use celebrities to symbolize something, I want to defend values ​​such as diversity, respect for others. I took advantage of the controversy of the presenters to launch a message of integration.” Although he admits that not everyone understands his murals. “Those who stay on the surface will see the joke, the grace, but those who stop to think understand the message against LGTBIphobia, sexism…”

Benintende escaped for a while from the Cupra City Garage space in Madrid, on Serrano Street, where he presented his first solo exhibition in the city to capture the kiss between the two communicators. “I take advantage of my trips to paint something in the cities where I go.” With the car firm she is touring Europe (she has been to the brand’s spaces in Paris, Berlin, Munich…). “They named me Global Ambassador in 2021, and I am especially excited because of the values ​​we share: it is daring, rebellious, they care about sustainability and that is why they are heading towards electrification. Plus, cars move through the streets, like my art.” Among her works, highlights Saint Rosalia, a painting of the singer depicted as a virgin. “Before, religious figures were venerated; now that cult has turned to celebrities, and that is why I drew her like that. Also, Saint Rosalia is the patron saint of Palermo. When I drew her there, many people did not know who the singer Rosalia was, but they left her flowers and lit candles for her,” she recalls. Super Alexia, which depicts the Barça player as a superhero. “The two women represent female empowerment. I have a 7-year-old daughter who last year asked me to sign up for football, inspired by Putellas,” she says.

From the underground to conservative neighborhoods

As TVBoy, he is especially excited to exhibit in conservative and traditional neighborhoods like Salamanca. “I come from painting in social centers, in a more underground. Being able to take my speech to a bourgeois street like Serrano makes it even more vindictive.” He knows there are people who may be bothered by his work, but he doesn’t care. “It means that I have achieved my goal, I have stirred something inside them, I make them think.” He is also aware that his works, when on the street, can disappear or be altered. His perception of this has also changed.

“At first I was very angry. Now I see it as a gift that I make to the city, the moment I paint it, it stops being mine. If you don’t like it and they decide to delete it, then that’s it, I have already made my plea, and I have documented it and uploaded it to networks, where it has a longer life.” Also broader: on her Instagram, she has more than a million followers. “And if someone writes about my work or modifies it, in the end they are making a performanceit becomes collective and I like how it transforms. For example, in my work Ayuso formula (the president of Madrid appears in a rally driver’s overalls), someone wrote about the dead in nursing homes, and so it acquired another meaning.”

Since 2006, many cities have begun to implement anti-graffiti plans: if an artist was caught with spray cans, the matter would be penalised. So TVBoy had to change his technique to reduce the time it took to create the work. “I have paid up to 3,000 euros,” he confesses. Now he paints the work on paper in the studio, cuts it out, applies a special glue and sticks it on the wall he wants. “Then, with the spray, I add details such as shadows and other effects to give it three-dimensionality, or I write a phrase. The execution time goes from hours to minutes.” This also allows him another game: blending in as a regular worker. “I used to go out at night, so they wouldn’t see me. Nowadays I like to work during the day. I often put on overalls, like a worker, and the cloak of invisibility it gives you is incredible. When they stop me, it’s to ask me for directions,” he laughs.

“Democratic showcase”

Speaking of graffiti, what do you think of the word graffiti artist? “I don’t like it, it has something derogatory about it, like a security guard. Yes, I started doing graffiti, but it was 1996, I was 16 years old and I painted letters on trains. And that’s where I fell in love with urban art, I wanted to be accessible to everyone, I didn’t want to pursue a career with a traditional easel, because you connect with people of all kinds, it is a very democratic showcase, you reach people with studies, without studies, to children, to the elderly…”, he claims.

So, do urban works lose their meaning when they enter a gallery or museum? “In the end I fell, yes,” he confesses, amused. “After the Covid pandemic, spending so much time locked up in the studio, I felt the need to make an exhibition in the museum that would compile everything I have done on the street, which has been lost,” he acknowledges. “I agree that the moment a work enters a museum it is no longer urban art, but what is important is the message, which is communicated in the same way. “What I do is replicate the mural on fabric.” This is not always possible, like his work in kyiv, where he went in January 2023 to deliver a message for peace and reconciliation. “There the strength was in the support: the walls full of bullet holes, a rusty tank on which I drew a dove of peace… If I paint those murals on a canvas, they lose their meaning, so I printed photographs of the result to keep its power.”

Furthermore, he admits that he likes that contradiction in his art. “If my works are on the street, they have no value, some are even eliminated. On the other hand, once they enter a museum, they acquire a value, the conception changes.” And he takes the opportunity to tell an anecdote: “In 2018, the Italian ambassador in Madrid, who was very open, gave me permission to paint the facade of the Embassy, ​​on Lagasca Street. Well, the police came and, when they were already handcuffing me, Stefano Sannino had to come out to explain to them that he had permission. The agents couldn’t believe it.”