Performa: deliciously fooled.

Performa is infusing New York City once again with its streak of wild creativity. Have only been to a few events. The anger workshop was a lot of talk, signing up release forms, and only 3 and half minutes of being angry. I need much more than that.Then 4 minutes of loving someone, a stranger, by hugging closely another participant to the session. An intriguing experience. Why should I love a complete stranger? But then anyone around me that I love is also there by contingence, out of the several billion people on Earth.I didn't review 8 billion people to choose my loved ones. That workshop took place within the tent of the Australian Embassy, with awesome activist/artist Richard Bell.

The Wyatt Kahn show Work was sweet. The painter's paintings became puppets who articulated their pride or protest at the artist and art scene. The setting, the Swedish Marionette theater in Central Park, is even sweeter, and the hip audience sitting on benches, hip to hip.

The Heather Gibson exhibit, Final Days, did not particularly grab my attention but maybe I was distracted and did not do it justice. And I was thirsty. Beer bottles and cans floated in a large bucket. I considered them. A guy was standing awkwardly next to the pail. Short, pale, glasses, 50. Holding a plastic bag close to his stomach.

- Are you looking for a beer? he says, with a British accent.

- No, water actually. 

 - I don't think there is water, just beer. Which one do you want?

 - Thanks, no, usually I love a beer, but I really need water right now.

- Are you enjoying the show?

- So so.

- I'm an artist too. Kind of a failed artist. I've had quite a few mishaps in my life. I used to be a prolific artist.

- Really? I say politely.
Is being prolific a good thing? I wonder.

- Yes. I wanted to open an art school in London, for people who can't afford art schools, and I put all my fortune in it. 

Hm, upper class guy, then, I guess.

- It failed, and I lost all my money. I decided to make small sculptures from all my mishaps, 

He pulls a keyring out of the plastic bag which I see now is full of them. It has a rectangular structure (pictured above).

- Here's the plan of the school, you see, it was a Victorian building. These are the trees.

- Aha.

He pulls another keyring which is a ballerina lying on her back, and another one that looks a bit like a game jack. Meanwhile my phone rings, I have to join a friend who's waiting for me up the block.

- This is a dolof, do you know what a dolof is? he asks. But maybe you have to go?

- I have a minute.

I'm intrigued.

- A dolof is something on the beach that holds it in place.

- You sell these key rings?

- Yes, he says, even more awkward.

- How much', I ask, 'because I haven't got all the time in the world.'

- $20 each.

A guy in his 30s approach while I'm on the phone.

- I said I would take 2 for $30, he butts in.

- No, says the little guy, that won't work.

- OK, I say, I'll take the school one. 

Because I think they look cool, and $20 is cheap to avoid having to say no to the small, awkward guy and hurt his feelings. 

I pull a bill out, we proceed with the exchange.

He says:

- My name is Ryan Gander.

- Nice meeting you. I'm Arabella. Bye.

2 days later, I find out in the Performa printed catalog that it is an act. Of course, you my reader had guessed, but that's easy from your armchair: I was deliciously fooled. Ryan Gander was performing. In fact, I saw him two days later at the Performa hub playing it out on a young man who was trying to buy 3 for $50. He looked so genuinely sad while performing. I thought, maybe he's sad he's so good at peddling off his goods. Maybe he's a bit sad because the act works only if the buyer does not know who he is, with the implication he's not as famous as he thought he was. Maybe he's a really good actor at playing the failed artist.

Contributed by -- Arabella Hutter