The public enters the room, empty and without signs of art. I take my place anonymously among people. I wait a few more seconds to accelerate the sense of bewilderment and the search for something to see or that is about to happen.
I conquer the center of the room by walking among people with raised hands. I’m surrendering, here, … I surrender! I give in to pressure, tiredness and rhythm. After all, I’m a certain age.
I remain with my hands raised in surrender as long as my strength allows me, until I can support the weight of my arms.
As long as I keep my hands up, I surrender to art. I can’t take it anymore and I do it right.
Exhausted, I lower my arms and return to the people, I’m like them: one who never gives up.
I never try the action before I do it. I want to be in the same conditions as the public, virgin to verification.