Chill Guy, Uptight Creator

The “Chill Guy” meme has completely taken over the internet. This illustration of an anthropomorphic dog in relaxed human attire, introduced by artist Phillip Banks, exudes an attitude perfectly captured in a single sentence: “He’s just a chill guy who doesn’t gaf.” And yet, ironically, it’s Banks himself who now seems to care deeply about what is happening to his creation. His legal battle to reclaim control over the “Chill Guy” feels like a fight against the natural forces of the internet.

Banks, an artist from North Carolina, posted the illustration on his social media in October 2023. The drawing was quickly transformed into a symbol of carefreeness and became the inspiration for viral memes. The internet turned his creation into a universal joke, a memecoin, and even a marketing icon. Some of these projects reached a market capitalization of hundreds of millions of dollars. But while the world embraced the “Chill Guy,” Banks saw his work appear unauthorized on merchandise, in crypto projects, and as marketing material. That changed everything. Banks decided to take up the legal challenge to defend his copyright.

This is not the first time an artist has been entangled in the complexities of internet memes and copyright. Consider Matt Furie and Pepe the Frog, which unintentionally became associated with extremist groups. Furie attempted to regain control, achieving some legal successes, but the broader meme culture proved uncontrollable. Or Antonio Guillem, the photographer behind the “Distracted Boyfriend” meme, who complained about the massive use of his stock photo without any financial compensation. Yet, in all these cases, the internet remained indifferent to the original creators’ attempts to take back control.

Banks’ struggle highlights the fundamental irony of viral fame. As the “Chill Guy” becomes a global icon, Banks loses control over his own creation. This is the paradox of internet culture: the fame that elevates an artist also renders them irrelevant. In the world of memes, everything revolves around transformation, recontextualization, and speed. Copyright? It’s an outdated concept, ill-equipped to handle the anarchistic nature of the digital arena. And yet, Banks’ reaction is somewhat understandable. His work is being monetized without him directly profiting from it. At the same time, this meme would never have achieved its current level of fame without being shared, transformed, and freely spread. The “Chill Guy” thrives precisely because of its freedom. Here lies a fascinating tension: Banks deserves recognition and compensation, but any attempt to regain control contradicts the very meme culture his work now belongs to.

Chris Torres, the creator of Nyan Cat, found a clever balance between profiting from his viral success and protecting his work. When his rainbow cat went viral in 2011, he chose to act: he began selling official merchandise and pursued legal action against unauthorized use. Torres embraced the chaos of viral content and stayed actively involved with his community. In 2021, he sold an original version of Nyan Cat as an NFT for nearly $600,000, proving that creativity and commerce can coexist. His approach demonstrates that control and collaboration can go hand in hand in the digital meme world.

We live in the era of “kekonomics,” where digital attention and absurdity create value. The “Chill Guy” is no longer anyone’s property; it is a collective symbol, a digital artifact now in the hands of the internet. Banks’ legal battle feels both tragic and heroic, yet ultimately destined to fail. Just as memes behave like gas—unpredictable and uncontainable—control slips away from those who try to hold onto it.

Perhaps the only solution for Banks is to take a cue from his creation and approach the situation with a lighter heart. Let the chaos do its work, embrace the anarchistic nature of the meme, and enjoy the irony. Ultimately, the “Chill Guy” himself teaches us that some battles are better left unfought. Just don’t gaf.