Blog & insights

When is it acceptable to replicate another artist’s work? Is it an act of admiration, a continuation of visual dialogue, or simply an unimaginative shortcut? This question has echoed through art history for centuries, resurfacing with particular force in contemporary and street art culture.

To understand this debate, it helps to look back at one of the most revered artists of all time: Vincent van Gogh.

Following a period of severe mental health struggles, Van Gogh voluntarily admitted himself to the asylum at Saint-Rémy-de-Provence in 1889. During his time there, he produced a remarkable body of work—much of it directly inspired by, and in some cases based upon, existing artworks. Van Gogh copied compositions by artists such as Eugène Delacroixand Jean-François Millet, as well as prints by Japanese ukiyo-e master Utagawa Hiroshige. He also reinterpreted Gustave Doré’s haunting depiction of prisoners exercising in a yard.

Yet Van Gogh did not simply “lift” these works. He transformed them. Colours were intensified, emotional resonance heightened, and his unmistakable brushstrokes injected movement and urgency. 

Critics have often argued that Van Gogh didn’t diminish the originals—he expanded them, adding a psychological and expressive depth uniquely his own.

This pattern repeats throughout art history. Early artists were rarely isolated geniuses working in a vacuum. They studied, borrowed from, and openly influenced one another, there was no social media or the internet to expand your influence.

In Renaissance workshops artists trained artists to replicate their masters before developing their own styles. Impressionists responded directly to one another’s experiments with light and colour. Influence was expected—but outright copying was rare and often frowned upon unless clearly transformative.

So where, exactly, is the line?

In contemporary art, particularly street art, that line has become increasingly blurred. We often see artists lift specific elements—a pose, a motif, a symbol—from an original work. 

In other cases, entire images are lifted wholesale and inserted into collages or new contexts. At what point does this become a unique work? When does homage slip into appropriation—or worse, laziness?

The comparison to music is unavoidable. Bands routinely draw inspiration from existing bass lines or melodies, yet musicians have faced legal consequences when similarity crosses into replication. Copyright case law governs what is permissible in sound. 

Should the visual arts be subject to similar scrutiny?

Street art provides some of the most visible examples of this debate. 

Banksy, arguably the most famous street artist in the world, has openly acknowledged the influence of French graffiti artist Blek le Rat, often described as the godfather of stencil street art. Banksy’s early rat imagery and stencil techniques clearly echo Blek’s pioneering work. Influence, in this case, feels transparent and honest.

However, Banksy’s work also raises more complex questions. In Choose Your Weapon, Banksy unmistakably references Keith Haring, lifting the iconic barking dog motif—a central symbol in Haring’s visual language. 

More recently, Banksy has incorporated references to Jean-Michel Basquiat, whose raw, expressive style and engagement with street culture fundamentally shaped modern urban art. Basquiat himself was influenced by graffiti, jazz, anatomy books, and art history, collapsing “high” and “low” culture into a single visual voice.

Banksy is neither the first nor the last artist to draw heavily from others. The key question remains: is being influenced different from directly lifting imagery?

If a musician uses a recognisable bass line, is it a tribute—or a copyright infringement? Similarly, when artists reuse a known image, such as Banksy’s Girl with Balloon, embedding it into their own work, does it become commentary, collaboration, or commodification?

Some artists, such as Mr Brainwash, may have built his entire career by repurposing iconic imagery from others. Supporters argue this is a continuation of pop art traditions established by Andy Warhol. 

Critics argue it lacks originality. Interestingly, even Van Gogh—now revered as the pinnacle of originality—copied other artists extensively during his lifetime.

I reached out to several contemporary artists who openly borrow from or reference existing works. I managed to have some interesting off the record conversations, but many declined to comment; others did not respond at all. Perhaps that silence speaks volumes.

Banksy has produced some of the most iconic images of recent times. Yet the widespread reuse of works like Girl with Balloon raises uncomfortable questions about authorship and originality in an age of mass reproduction.

Ultimately, this debate will never have a definitive answer. Art has always been built on influence, imitation, and evolution. The challenge lies in recognising when borrowing becomes transformation—and when it becomes exploitation.

As Pablo Picasso is widely attributed to saying:

“Good artists copy; great artists steal.”

Whether that theft is an act of genius or an ethical grey area is a question each viewer—and artist—must decide for themselves.