Puma In Puma Out

How fortunate that you keep a notebook in which to make sketches, said Pliny the Elder. But I am more intrigued to know why you were sketching a puma.

Oh, I said, it wasn't a real puma.

May I see? asked Pliny.

No, I don't want you to see, I replied. They're three increasingly bad attempts at drawing a puma.

What possessed you? asked Pliny.

I'd been to the Art Gallery, I said. In 2004. It was an installation. A stuffed puma. Oh, alright, you can see my pumas.

Goodness , said Pliny. You really have no idea of how to draw an animal. .

I know, I said. I would have done better if the puma was in front of me, but I tried to recollect it after I got home.

They really are very, very bad, said Pliny. You're right, each attempt is worse than the one before. Ha ha, look at the last one where you tried to draw it from behind! And tell me, was the puma leaping towards a mirror?

It was a long time ago, I said. I don't think it was a mirror but a picture of a puma in a cage. Or a video of a puma in a cage.

Puma In Puma Out, said Pliny.

What? I said.

Puma In Puma Out, he said. That's what you've written underneath. What does it mean?

It was the title of the installation, I said. It means one of the pumas is in, and one is out.

But they're both in, said Pliny. In the sense that one is in a cage, and the other is in the Art Gallery.

You could equally say they're both out, I replied. In the sense that one is out of a cage, and the other is out of the Art Gallery.

What an interesting discussion we're having, said Pliny. I do like modern art.

So do I, I said.