‘Glenn’ by Jean-Michel Basquiat.
There wouldn’t be any Basquiat clones if there weren’t any social media.
NEW YORK – “Royalty, heroism, and the streets” was Jean-Michel Basquiat’s answer when asked what his art was about. Parker Hippe, a 19-year-old artist notorious on Instagram for showcasing his heavily Basquiat-inspired art in hopes of profit, doesn’t have an answer to that question—at least not one that could be easily found.
Hippe’s renditions of scribbled faces, ambiguous animals, buildings, and three-point crowns are obvious markers of Basquiat’s abstract, street art-inspired style. Undoubtedly, Hippe is a talented artist, and his inspiration and creativity stem from a place of genuine love and respect for Basquiat. However, his Instagram and TikTok pages are filled with comments criticizing him for his lack of originality and creativity. The discourse surrounding Parker Hippe and other “Basquiat clones” often concludes that these artists are directly stealing and appropriating art about struggles they do not experience.
Despite coming from a middle-class family, Basquiat was a famous heroin addict who spent his days tagging “SAMO” across New York while living in the streets of Brooklyn, making money through odd jobs and the occasional drug deal. The vitriol directed at Hippe and other “Basquiat clones” is often justified by the notion that these Instagram-based artists directly copy an art form born out of struggle, poverty, and drug addiction. Hippe’s use of Basquiat’s famed crown in his pieces is seen as insulting and disrespectful to Basquiat’s original work. To many social media users, it is equivalent to signing his work as “SAMO” or photocopying a Basquiat painting and signing it “Hippe.” All these criticisms are valid and, to an extent, necessary to protect the creativity of all artists, especially those with a significant impact, like Basquiat has.
‘Omen’ by Parker Hippe – selling for $1500 on his website.
The racial disparities are also significant. Hippe and other young white males are creating art in a style inspired by an African American painter, using elements of African art, music, and experience in their work. How can a young white man in 2024 understand the life and social standing of a Black American heroin addict in the 80s? The pop influences in Basquiat’s work, like Andy Warhol’s paintings, are symbols of their time. They remain relevant today, but this era of art cannot change the world again the way that Basquiat’s did. Art is constantly changing to reflect the current world. While the past can be inspiration – it can’t tell the whole current story on its own.
But why does it matter? And who decides who can create what, anyway?
No one would have a problem with Parker Hippe’s clear copying of Basquiat’s iconic style if he had kept it in his sketchbook.
The reality of social media is that users—the collective “we”—can never truly know what is happening in the life of someone behind their posts. There’s no way to say that Parker Hippe and other Instagram “Basquiats” aren’t heroin addicts scribbling their art along city walls while they starve. However, when you sell whatever story is yours through art, each piece must reflect you or the greater meaning or story you wish to represent. When the art is so closely tied to that of another artist—especially one with Basquiat’s social impact—you’re essentially selling that story. And it’s not yours to sell.
Copying someone’s art hurts no one if it’s hung up on your bedroom wall or saved in a diary as a reflection of something or someone you admire. The issue of being a “clone” or a “copycat” arises when that art is presented publicly, especially when these pieces are being sold for $1,500, as is the case with some of Hippe’s paintings. Social media has made it easy to monetize creative endeavors—something that was nearly impossible during Basquiat’s time. Instead of waiting on a street corner with postcard-sized prints of your paintings, you can simply post it online, monetize view counts, and make a profit. So, when someone takes advantage of this easily exploited system of social media and starts selling work heavily influenced by—or outright copied from—another artist, the original purpose of both the new and old artist is lost. Once profit and social media are involved, the goal shifts to making money. While Basquiat painted the streets of New York in between bouts of heroin addiction, white men on Instagram can sell his likeness by posting a 20-second video clip from their homes. That is why people hate Basquiat clones.
Draw, paint, or create whatever you want, but keep it to yourself if the work isn’t yours.