{"id":302,"date":"2014-05-08T11:11:28","date_gmt":"2014-05-08T11:11:28","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.sarahlowndes.net\/?p=302"},"modified":"2014-05-08T11:12:28","modified_gmt":"2014-05-08T11:12:28","slug":"the-stranger-2hb-glasgow-cca-2009","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.sarahlowndes.net\/?p=302","title":{"rendered":"The Stranger, 2HB (Glasgow: CCA, 2009)"},"content":{"rendered":"

The scene:<\/em> It is almost seven o\u2019clock on a Friday evening in London in mid-October. Dozens of people are still spilling out of the white tent of the art fair into the darkening cool of Regent\u2019s Park. \u00a0Most are fashionable, some are rich: all are hungry, and somewhat fatigued from a day spent in the brightly lit and slightly unreal atmosphere of the fair. Across the road, a courtesy coach laid on for VIP guests is parked. \u00a0The driver is waiting for the officious blonde intern with the clipboard to instruct him to drive off across town, to the opening of a dead American artist’s retrospective at the Camden Arts Centre. \u00a0As the last passengers board, a man makes a phone call to a male colleague, possibly his gallerist.<\/p>\n

\u2018I was just in the talk \u2013’<\/p>\n

[inaudible query, something along the lines of \u2013 \u2018Did you ask her something in the Q & A?\u2019]<\/p>\n

\u2018Yeah, I did actually and she gave me a nice answer.\u2019<\/p>\n

[Inaudible response, possibly a comment to the effect that it would be good to get hold of a recording of it]<\/p>\n

\u2018Yeah, I think it was recorded and it\u2019s going to be out on Resonance FM, so it should be easy to…’<\/p>\n

[inaudible reply, perhaps checking that everything is in hand for that evening, and that he knows how to get to the place where he will be staying that night]<\/p>\n

\u2018I\u2019m going up to Camden now on this bus. Yeah – I\u2019ll go by the overland to Dalston later.\u2019<\/p>\n

While the man has been on the phone, a woman with a heavy accent, either French or Spanish, has boarded the bus and now asks if the seat next to him is free. \u00a0Silently he indicates that it is, but with a feeling of slight surprise \u2013 given the number of empty seats on the bus. \u00a0The man concludes his phone conversation in a more self-conscious manner. Feeling that it might be bad manners to pass the journey in silence, he now turns to the woman and begins making polite conversation.<\/p>\n

\u2018Are you enjoying the fair so far?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Yes\u2019, she says with a girlish laugh.<\/p>\n

\u2018And you\u2019re here as an artist, or a curator or…?\u2019<\/p>\n

The woman gives him a slightly too lengthy rundown of her various art-related activities.<\/p>\n

\u2018So you run a space, a magazine and you\u2019re an artist, you must be very busy.\u2019<\/p>\n

Again the woman replies with a simpering \u2018Yes.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018What kind of work do you make?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Photography\u2019.<\/p>\n

\u2018Photography, right\u2019. \u00a0There is a slight pause in which the artist tries and fails to think of anything to say about photography \u2013 it is clear that the medium is not his \u2018bag\u2019.<\/p>\n

Moving on in search of something to talk about with this complete stranger that might interest him slightly more he asks, \u2018And what is the journal?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018The journal does not exist any more, I am just looking after the archive now, and running the space -‘<\/p>\n

\u2018And is the space…?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Yes, it is new. We are having exhibition programme and events.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018What kind of events?\u2019 he asks, perking up, but adopting a slightly\u00a0proprietorial tone – it is clear that live art is more up his street than photography.<\/p>\n

\u2018Well, all kinds\u2019, says the woman, somewhat bemused. \u00a0\u2018Is boring to just have exhibitions so we have talks, tea parties \u2013 events!\u2019 <\/em>she finishes emphatically as if exhausted by what strikes her as an unnecessary explanation.<\/p>\n

\u2018Okay, I wasn\u2019t sure what you meant by \u2018events\u2019 \u2013 it\u2019s become a term that used a lot in the art world and I wanted to qualify what you mean\u2019, the artist replies in a reasonable tone.<\/p>\n

His phone rings again.<\/p>\n

\u2018Hi\u2019 (it is obvious that it\u2019s someone he is very intimate with, either his long-term girlfriend or wife).<\/p>\n

[inaudible question]\u2028 \u00a0\u2018Yeah, I\u2019m just on the bus going up to Camden\u2019.<\/p>\n

[inaudible question: likely to be \u2018who are you with?]<\/p>\n

The man replies with some hesitancy, as if wary of arousing suspicion, jealousy or irritation in his partner. \u00a0\u2018I\u2019m with \u2013\u2018, he pauses, \u2018a stranger, actually.\u2019 \u00a0He lets out a small, nervous laugh. \u00a0\u2018She just came and sat down next to me.\u2019 \u00a0(This last said as if to admonish himself from any wrongdoing).<\/p>\n

[inaudible question, likely to be: \u2018What is her name?]<\/p>\n

\u2018I don\u2019t know actually \u2013 what is your name?\u2019 he asks the woman.<\/p>\n

\u2018Arelia.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Arelia?\u2019 he pronounces the strange name uncertainly. \u00a0\u2028\u2018I\u2019m Bob\u2019 he says, and then, something about the strangeness of the\u00a0situation causes him to perceive the shortened version of his own name as being potentially misunderstood, being a verb as well as a proper noun. An image of apples bobbing in a bucket of water for Hallowe\u2019en floats into his mind. \u2018Bob as in Robert\u2019, he adds, laughing again uncertainly at the oddness of introducing himself to this woman while on the phone to his partner. \u00a0Returning to the conversation with his partner, he responds to a comment she has made concerning the mess he has left in their home (in a Northern city some three hours train ride away) in his haste to depart for London and the fair.<\/p>\n

\u2018Yeah, I\u2019m sorry I left in a bit of a panic and just left a big pile of clothes on the floor…\u2019<\/p>\n

[inaudible question, likely to be \u2018what are you wearing?\u2019]<\/p>\n

\u2018I just put on my leather jacket.\u2019<\/p>\n

[inaudible question, probably concerning his plans for the evening.]<\/p>\n

\u2018Yeah, I\u2019m going up there later. I\u2019m getting a bit nervous actually, it\u2019s going\u00a0to be packed.\u2019<\/p>\n

[Inaudible statement, likely to be \u2018I love you\u2019]<\/p>\n

He replies, \u2018Yeah, me too\u2019 \u2013 the classic response when unwilling to say\u00a0aloud in a public place \u2018I love you\u2019.<\/p>\n

[inaudible statement \u2013 probably \u2018I miss you\u2019]<\/p>\n

Having only left home a few hours earlier, he replies with a trace of\u00a0irritation, at having this rare free time interrupted, \u2018I miss you too\u2019.<\/p>\n

[the imagined reply, perhaps slightly frosty in tone: \u2018I can tell you\u2019re busy,\u00a0give me a ring later if you have time.\u2019]<\/em><\/p>\n

He says (with some relief),\u2018Okay, yeah, I\u2019ll phone you later.\u2019<\/p>\n

Turning once more to his companion, he says, by way of explanation, \u2018As\u00a0you\u2019ve probably gathered, that was my partner, we\u2019ve got a young son and she was just putting him to bed (a slight pang enters his heart at the thought of his son in his pyjamas, fresh from the bath with his hair tousled and his face rosy, clutching his favourite story book, \u2018How do dinosaurs go to bed?\u2019 \u00a0But a second later, his thoughts turn back to the evening ahead in London, and he says brightly to the woman, \u2018I\u2019ve got a couple of nights off!\u2019 \u00a0Then, unable to resist a small boast, he says, \u2018I\u2019m going up to Dalston later to do a performance at this Dada event.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Oh\u2019 says the woman, clearly about as interested in performance as the man is in photography.<\/p>\n

Changing tack, the man says, \u2018I went to the talk about [inaudible]. \u00a0It made it all seem really important \u2013 sometimes I don\u2019t know how important art is \u2013 so it\u2019s good to feel that it is.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018The woman, who clearly suffers from no such misgivings about the importance of art, offers nothing in reply. \u00a0Gallantly, the man asks, \u2018What is your work about?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Mostly I am taking photographs of funerals around the world, as an expression of individual and community.\u2019 \u00a0This is said in a slightly prim and self-important way, with the subtext \u2018my work is far more worthy than your silly performances\u2019.<\/p>\n

The man is left gobsmacked by this response \u2013 thinking silently, her work sounds awful \u2013 and really out of date.<\/p>\n

A silence descends for a few moments in which the artist thinks, God, I am so tired. \u00a0His son had woken him up at 6am that morning, and his partner, extracting the last bit of co-parenting available before he fled to London, had\u00a0said, \u2018Can you get up with him please?\u2019 and then turned over in a way that suggested she was not asking, but telling. \u00a0The man cannot draw up the strength to discuss the woman\u2019s terrible photographs of funerals \u2013 and thinks, a bit petulantly, I didn\u2019t ask her to come and sit next to me. \u00a0He wishes he could be alone to mull over the events of the day and to think ahead to his performance that evening – to enjoy the strange tinselly feeling of nervous excitement that being in London at night brings. \u00a0The coach has now stopped at some traffic lights in a leafy street in St. John\u2019s Wood.<\/p>\n

\u2018It\u2019s so dark\u2019, the woman says.<\/p>\n

He, mistaking her comment for self-congratulation relating to the profundity of her own practice assents blandly, \u2018Yes, it must be.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018No, I meant \u2013\u2018, she gestures towards the night outside. \u00a0\u2018It is quite scary, especially if you are a stranger\u2019, <\/em>placing emphasis on the final word as if piqued at being described in this way to his partner.<\/p>\n

\u2018I\u2019m sorry about that\u2019, he says, \u2018I didn\u2019t know how to describe you as you\u2019d only just sat down beside me.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Ah \u2013’, says the woman, and then muses, \u2018What is the difference between foreign and stranger?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Well -\u2019, the artist says, with a spark of sudden interest, being a man who likes to pin down the specifics in life. \u00a0\u2018They are similar words, but you use them in different contexts \u2013 you would talk about a foreign language for instance, but not a strange one.\u2019 \u00a0He is conscious suddenly of the race issue, and how describing the woman as \u2018foreign\u2019 might even be worse than describing her as a stranger. \u00a0Suddenly, and with blessed relief, he thinks of Albert Camus and offers, as if he had been complimenting the woman all along, \u2018Stranger sounds better in French…\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Yes\u2019 the woman agrees, giggling again girlishly.<\/p>\n

Silence descends once more, broken by the arrival of the coach at the gallery. \u00a0The man and woman disembark, the woman immediately encountering some friends approaching the gallery on foot. \u00a0She embraces them warmly and begins talking to them in fast and excited French. \u00a0The artist, who has been forgotten, walks towards the bright lights of the gallery and the slender flutes of champagne sitting fizzing on the counter inside, just waiting to be drunk.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

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The scene: It is almost seven o\u2019clock on a Friday evening in London in mid-October. Dozens of people are still spilling out of the white tent of the art fair into the darkening cool of Regent\u2019s Park. \u00a0Most are fashionable, … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-302","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-creative-writing"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.sarahlowndes.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/302","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.sarahlowndes.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.sarahlowndes.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.sarahlowndes.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.sarahlowndes.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=302"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"http:\/\/www.sarahlowndes.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/302\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":305,"href":"http:\/\/www.sarahlowndes.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/302\/revisions\/305"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.sarahlowndes.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=302"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.sarahlowndes.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=302"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.sarahlowndes.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=302"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}