I woke this morning with a deeply philosophical yearning to feel the city. Decided to continue my ongoing masterpiece: “Urban Echoes: A Blindfolded Exploration of Existential Pavement.” That’s the working title.
9:00am – Strapped on my black silk blindfold (hand-dyed with squid ink – a nod to David Hockney’s squid period), packed my sketchbook, two flapjacks, and a laminated card that reads “This is performance art. Do not call an ambulance.”
Set off from Liverpool Street. Felt very Richard Long meets Ozzy Osbourne. First 20 minutes were a sensual delight – the rhythmic tap of my feet on the pavement, the scent of wet concrete, and the dulcet tones of a passing bin lorry. A pigeon landed on my head. I consider this an artistic collaboration.
9:23am – Walked directly into a Pret A Manger sandwich board advertising “Seasonal Beetroot Bliss.”Removed blindfold as per artistic protocol.
10:05am – Took a sharp left down Brick Lane. I think. Walked into a group of baffled French exchange students. One clapped. One filmed. I may have misunderstood – their English was negligible – but I believe I went viral on TikTok.
11:47am – Midway through what I believe was Soho. Felt a strong artistic urge to lie down and let the city envelop me. Realised I was in a bike lane. Several cyclists did not appreciate my contribution to urban texture.
Considered quoting Marina Abramović to defuse the tension but instead whispered, “I am the installation.” Ran, which is dangerous whilst wearing a blindfold. Tripped over a dog.
12:32pm – Removed blindfold. Found myself inside a Greggs. No memory of entering. Ordered a sausage roll out of instinct. It was transcendental. Possibly the best such roll they have ever sold.
1:15pm – Ran into Trevor from my art school days. He now teaches pottery to corporate lawyers. He called my project “utter lunacy with mild undertones of municipal danger.” Took it as a compliment. He once tried to knit a boat.
2:00pm – Continued westward. Blindfolded, of course. Heard the gentle sound of classical music. Thought I’d wandered into a string quartet’s open-air rehearsal. I was, in fact, in a Tesco with an overloud tannoy.
3:45pm – Fell into a low hedge. Lay there for ten minutes contemplating the impermanence of hedges and also whether I had dislocated a rib.
4:30pm – Called it a day. Removed blindfold. Discovered I had almost made a full circle, give or take a couple of miles. An almost perfect loop. A statement on the futility of forward motion? Or just my appalling sense of direction? Either way – ART.
Tomorrow: Camden. I am considering walking blindfolded whilst on stilts. I’ve hired an intern for a day, to yell HE’S NOT MAD, HE’S MAKING ART at anyone who gets too close.
Final note: Must remember to carry a bird-scarer. City pigeons are not to be trusted.
– Chester