When the scaffolding finally came down from the back wall of the Spot On Snooker Club in Sheffield, Chris Ashmore was met not with quiet appreciation, but with a digital firestorm. His mural of seven-time world snooker champion Ronnie O'Sullivan, intended as a tribute, instead triggered a wave of online mockery and local debate-some calling the portrait "zombie-like" and "skeletal," others defending its boldness.
Yet, as Ashmore points out, the mural is only two weeks into a five-week commission. "It's not finished," he insists, highlighting that the current state is a work in progress, not a final product. The artist, who has completed numerous public murals, explains that working from a scaffolding platform-rather than his preferred scissor lift-left him unable to step back and assess the full effect. "When the scaffolding came down, I came away and boom-it's gone viral," he says, still surprised by the intensity of the reaction.
Local opinion is split. Gillian Jones, a nearby resident, says the mural "brightened her day." Glen Bridock, a self-described fan of "the Rocket," calls the design "brilliant." But others, like Frank Short and Shaun Spalding, are less forgiving, zeroing in on the eyes and mouth as the main flaws. "It just don't look like Ronnie. It looks like somebody who's got a skeletal face," Spalding remarks.
Dan Kirkland, manager of Spot On, stands firmly behind Ashmore. He acknowledges the facial features need "tweaking," especially around the eyes and mouth, but is adamant that the criticism has crossed a line. "People are absolutely entitled to like or dislike a mural. But having an opinion about a piece of artwork is one thing. Slagging off the person who created it is another."
For Ashmore, the viral backlash is a lesson in the hazards of public art in the social media age. He refuses to be rushed by online pressure, stating, "I'm not just going to rush it in three days because people have complained on social media. I want to do it properly in my own time." He plans to hire a cherry picker to finish the job, ensuring the final touches-especially the skin tones-are completed to his standards.
What this episode exposes is the impatience and volatility of public opinion when art intersects with sporting icons. The mural's unfinished state became a lightning rod for criticism, but the real story is the artist's refusal to compromise his process for the sake of appeasing a viral mob. In a city that hosts the World Snooker Championship and reveres its cue sports heritage, the lesson is clear: let the paint dry before passing judgment. Sheffield's snooker community, and its artists, deserve the time and space to finish what they start.
