The district of Dalston originally began as a hamlet within the parish of Hackney in the northeast part of London. The origins of its name was unremarkable as it developed on either side of Dalston Lane. While I was standing approximately 4,624 miles away from Dalston in New Orleans, Louisiana, I couldn’t help but think of the wall art I had seen there. You know the one I am referring to.  

You have seen it replicated on those bootleg t-shirts on sale at the flea markets. On my last visit to New York City I spied some wannabe rapper teenagers walking around dressed like it. The wall art I’m referring was created by Banksy – the image of the old school hip hop dressed kid wearing the backwards hat, a long gold chain with what appears to be some type of gun charm, while holding a boom box in his left hand and a teddy bear in his right hand. Yes, you read that correctly, a teddy bear. 

Was this a stunt of some kind? Was this kid a street performer? Maybe he was also a fan of Banksy? 

Standing next to a lamppost down Pirate’s Alley in New Orleans was the old school hip hop Banksy kid’s doppelgänger. I checked out his gear like I was checking off a Costco shopping list. The kid was wearing the backwards hat – check. He’s got a long gold chain with what appears to be some type of New Orleans Saints old gold “fleur-de-lis” charm – appropriate for our geographic setting. He was holding a boom box in his left hand and there it was, the teddy bear in his right hand. There was something different though, besides the easily identifiable Saints icon. A few inches away from him was what appeared to be some kind of bucket or pottery. 

Street performers in New Orleans come in all shapes and sizes. Many have all sorts of gimmicks. I’m not referring to beads and those type of shenanigans – I’m talking street scams. The one I laugh at every time I visit the French Quarter is when I’m approached and told – “Bet I can tell ya where you got your shoes.” This kid had to have something going on like that.

The lamppost he was next to was just slightly off to the left of center a few yards down on this atramentous and soggy cobblestone street. These rounded river rocks were the exact kind used to pave the streets of Nawlins a very long time ago. They aren’t particular comfortable on your feet when walking across them and certainly standing on the rounded cobbles for even a few minutes can be painful. In spite of any podiatric paroxysm, this stoic non-sound blasting sentinel stood stable. As I approached nearer to him, he didn’t flinch. Before I could reach him, a few frat boys walked past and one pulled up for a make believe fade away jump shot and launched a number of coins into the hip hop kid’s bucket. 

I picked up my pace as I wanted to get quickly past the clearly inebriated Greek-lettered Lords of the Flies. The predictable machismo pushing match with the “hooligan” brothers followed as they proceeded down the street away from me. I reached the breathing Banksy analogue and admired his serenity as he just stood there in his hip hop poise. 

He didn’t blink. 

He didn’t even gesture towards me.

 
Now kneeling down on one knee to see what was written on his bucket, I realized it was more of a refined redwares earthenware clay pot from colonial times, the kind you see on the Antiques Roadshow on PBS. Inscribed on the exterior with was clearly a Sharpie 44001 Magnum permanent marker, was the word “HUNNY” in all capital letters. The only difference was the letter N in the middle was turned backwards like Winnie the Pooh’s hunny pot. I reached in the pocket of my jeans and threw all the change I had into this Nawlins Banksy’s bank. 

As I did, I whispered in my best southern drawl, “Yo, Banksy hip hop kid, betcha I can tell ya where you got your shoes.” 

This picket of Pirate’s Alley proceeded to break his composure and yell out “You got ‘dem shoes on your feet” while he hit play on his boom box to Mac Miller’s “Nikes On My Feet.” The irony is that particular video starts with Mac walking down a dark street near some lampposts. 

Art imitating life? You decide. 

I call it ironic ingenuity.