09/08/2014
I've been taught that when studying a piece of time-based art, it's good to consider the first image, the last image, and something in the middle to build an armature of meaning. Even though While You Wait has an indeterminate structure and isn't necessarily even art, I thought I'd try to look at Friday's inaugural stint at Best Buy through that lens:
FIRST IMAGES: a messy stack of plywood panels, tools, costume pieces, instruments, on the floor by the shopping carts and palpable frenetic energy as my helper and I try to assemble, fix, and rig 5 gold curtains inside the While You Wait box in less than an hour. I can't find certain tools and I'm sweating, cursing, and lightly panicking. Why am I doing this, I wonder? It's so hard and I haven't even really begun. The encircling chorus of TVs are flashing images of ethnically diverse families smiling about all the great Labor Day deals that are part of the Labor Day Sale that is STILL GOING ON BLESS US ALL.
MIDDLE IMAGES: Around midday, a man I know emerges from the box and says he traveled to three different places in his mind in his 5 minutes: his grandmother's beach club in Old Lime, CT, to Casablanca where he was "salaciously anticipating" dancing girls emerging from the gold curtains, and finally to "that place where I go in yoga." I jot down his account quickly because my iphone is dying and I have to go buy a phone charger 20 feet away. I note that I no longer feel there is any world beyond the walls of Best Buy.
FINAL IMAGES: Ahmed, the last visitor of the day and one of the front-of-house Best Buy greeter employees, comes out of the box and tells me the middle eastern music that Chip has been playing inside reminded him of his homeland of Palestine, from which his entire extended family is displaced. He tells me his family went to Iraq where his mother was shot, then they went to a refugee camp in Syria where Angelina Jolie in her UN capacity visited and promised to help them. Four years ago, he and his family arrived in Charlottesville. He asks me if I would like to see him do his traditional dancing at UVA next year. We take a selfie and trade emails, and I limp out through the automatic double doors, weary and in pain from standing all day in ridiculous shoes but full of heart from all the new connections and the shattering of expectations.