The Art of Waiting - Part Two

Are you still here? Good.

You may remember that we were sitting on plastic chairs watching two young men demonstrate their art with the aid of a turntable, an Apple laptop, two vinyl records, a cotton cornucopia, some haberdashery, several pincushions, threaded needles and coloured inks.

After several minutes it becomes apparent that the performance has started several minutes ago. Brown trousers has been bending over his laptop, which is connected to the turntable on which there is a vinyl record. Faint electronic sounds have emerged.

Pale blue suit, sitting at his table, has picked up a white cotton square in a round embroidery frame. As the faint electronic sounds have risen up into the cotton cornucopia and winged their way via the ragged cotton tape to his shoulders, he has picked up a threaded needle and started sewing.

He has chosen a coloured scrap of material and a hank of black fur. He has amateurishly sewn them to his sampler. He has picked up a coloured pen, and made several rhythmic marks on the sampler to the faint electronic sounds coming to him through the tape (and by conventional means, to us).

There are six or seven of us in the row of seats, and four people standing to the side. After ten more minutes the standers melt away. The other sitters look suspiciously like friends. Our faces up to now have been inscrutable.

There is an art to waiting, but there is no art in getting away.