in which the rules of engagement are laid out plainly via a conversational introduction to the author.
So, who are you?
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I am an artist.
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No, no, that’s not what I mean. I didn’t ask what you do, I asked who you are.
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Quite the opening gambit. Well, I am an Englishman.
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Your location, ethnicity and gender are pretty self-evident – after all, you are standing right beside me. But who are you, really?
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I am a customer service advisor; I work just over that bridge.
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Your profession suggests many things, but still does not answer my question. Who are you?
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You seem to be looking for a specific answer, which I am sure you will endeavor to return to me as a kind of shocking transcendental revelation. Needless to say, I do not have the means to satisfactorily give you an answer, nor the will to appease your transparent line of questioning.
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Why are the clever ones always so fucking hostile? Oh well, at least you’re not dull. I’ll try another question. Do you presume all the people you meet in cordoned-off outdoor smoking pens are trying to psychoanalyse you?
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Not as a rule, but they’re quite easy to spot. A penchant for unusual attire, bright wide eyes. A little playful hostility breeds fascination. So, if you’re not on a mission to unlock my inner strength, or convince me to join your small group of true believers, then who are you?
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I’m the total stranger sharing a cigarette and awkward conversation with you in a small, enclosed area.
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That is how you answer your own contrived, leading question? It doesn’t exactly give me a great deal to go on.
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If your purpose is simply to learn about my activities, ask me who I was, or ask me who I want to be.
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I see. Now we’re getting somewhere. So your grand revelation is that you ‘live in the moment’ and don’t let your past and future define you.. I bet you thrive on risks and extreme activities, never stopping once to consider anything. How’s that working out for you?
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I like you, you’ve got an interesting way of saying things, but how is all the deeply cynical moral superiority working out for you?
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What may appear to you as cynical is simply realistic. My anthropological conclusions are slightly more sophisticated than ‘live for the moment’ and they are working out for me just fine, thank you.
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Fair enough. I can’t say I’ve made many anthropological conclusions. So, with all that busy and fulfilling work at the call centre, how do you find the time to be an artist?
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I work to fulfill my creative goals. One must have the money to live. It is all merely a means to an end. In the future, I will be a successful artist and make a living through my painting.
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Do you have your work displayed anywhere? I’ve been to a few gallery shows recently, I might have seen some of your stuff.
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My work is not ready for that. When I feel I have reached a point where my work is ready for public scrutiny, I shall offer it for display – not a moment before. I would not presume to force my unfinished and haphazard ideas on a brutal audience. In any case, the process is more important than the result.
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That all sounds very sensible. So when do you expect it will be ready, when do you plan to ‘launch your attack?’
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When I am ready.
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When you’re ready to become an artist? What are you waiting for?
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I am already an artist, but the competitive nature of the creative industries means that unique approaches like my own have very little chance of being appreciated.
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Is this another of your anthropological conclusions? It appears that you have conceded defeat without the hassle of actually entering the competition. Can I roll you another cigarette, because you seem terrified of the world.
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I assure you I am not scared of anything. I’m standing here talking to a stranger in a smoking pen.
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It’s quite easy not to be scared when you actively resist participation. Why risk anything, when it’s safe to be anything you want in a cordoned-off pen?
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The pen protects the non-smokers from the smoke, not the other way around. Those in the pen are wrongfully stigmatised by a hostile world.
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You’re right. Let’s stay in the pen and protect everyone else from ourselves. So I ask you once more, who are you?
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I’m a man, sharing a cigarette with you in a small enclosed area.
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We’ve been in the pen for far too long. Are you coming?
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Yes. It’s about time I got back inside.
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