The chair up against the wall of this art gallery could be part of the art, but it also could be the abandoned post of one of the employees. There’s no way to know for sure. I’ve been standing here for 5 minutes and none of the people who seem like they work here have even looked like using it. But there isn’t any kind of description on the wall. I don’t know what to think. Maybe this is what the artist wanted? What is art anyway? Is this all it is? A chair against a blank wall? It’s almost a metaphor for life I suppose. It’s empty and alone. It’s beautiful.
Still, I’ve been walking around for a good 30 minutes and could very much do with a sit down. That chair looks inviting. Am I so intimidated by the concept of art that I would let my legs get sore just to avoid the possibility of strangers thinking I don’t get it? I suppose so. And what if I’m just standing here, contemplating my life because of a normal chair. What if my perspective on my whole existence changes today because I looked at a chair that wasn’t even supposed to be anything. What kind of an idiot would that make me? The biggest kind.
But my legs hurt so much. It’s really unbearable. I definitely need to rest soon. There’s only one real option left, that I can see anyway. I’ve got to curl up on the ground next to that chair. Yes that’s it. Oh yeah. Boy does that feel good. Finally some respite. The sweet relief of the fetal position. Mmmm. And what’s even better is, I win. Who’s the idiot now? You thought you could fool me, ‘artist’. You thought you could humiliate me with your quadruple bluff of a lonely chair. But I refuse to be another idiot, standing in stunned silence. I am the art now.