Gallery Report:
I walked back into the gallery thinking hopefully this guy is on his way out. Nope. Not the case. I found him in the far back corner responding to work where Ashton Phillips, Roe LiBretto, and Zan Sisco still had their amazing paintings hanging.
I say, "Hey buddy, you gotta keep your clothes on."
He looks over his bare shoulder at me and says, "I can't do that."
I didn't care that he was getting naked, I don't give a shit (I told myself). It was the fact that he'd taken the liberty to hang his shirt above two of the paintings and was now persisting to install his own art display with his scarf. I admit bare walls are inspiring, a blank canvas I get it. He wasn't exactly breaking any laws. Why was it bothering me?
I don't know who this guy is. I don't know what he's going to do. He's standing in the middle of my gallery getting undressed which wouldn't even be weird if he were a model and if a figure drawing session were going on but it wasn't. I was alone. He must be on something. He stood in front of Roe LiBretto 's work rubbing his chest, clearly mesmerized, which...I understood. I left him alone in the gallery and walked over to see Owen Kominiak and Jared Warren at the Vape Lounge next door.
I needed advice so I asked them, "Has anybody ever walked in here and just started undressing?"
"No""Yes," said Jared and Owen at the same time. When I told them what was happening Jared followed me back into the gallery.
"Maybe he's getting dressed now," I said, ever the optimist.
Radiohead sounded great in the background playing 'Creep'. Jared and I looked at each other, and looked at this man's nude back and then looked back at each other, smiling funny as "I'm a creep" blared out.
The half-naked man was staring up at Ashton Phillips work now, with his arms outstretched. He'd taken off his hat and jacket and shirt and socks and shoes and was undoing his belt. For some reason, I noticed that the wall lights weren't on and thought that I should turn them on so this guy could get a better look at the artwork. Really. Yes. That's what I did. I went to turn on the wall lights. At least someone was in here appreciating the amazing works of art that are up. I'm always complaining that nobody's in here and now I have a visitor.
Anyway, I walked back over to the guy and said, "Hey I'd appreciate it if you'd put your clothes back on, alright?" I said and reached up to take his shirt off the wall where he'd hung it. I couldn't get it down. He'd actually put the rod through his shirt and hung it. I had to climb up the stool to reach it. I took his shirt down and handed it to him as he stood by my table and was thumbing through my kung fu binder. I almost scolded him as I handed him his shirt and took the binder from him. I was getting cranky.
"I've just felt restrained. I've felt trapped by these," he said as he took his shirt in his hand and laid it on the chair. I looked real hard at his eyes to see signs of, something. Red? No. Big pupils? Not really.
"What did you take?" I asked him.
"Nothing," he said, "This is me. This is really me."
"Okay, look," I said and handed him his shirt and tried to justify the reason I needed him to get dressed.
"Haven't you ever had to do something you just couldn't explain?" He asked me. The answer was probably yes, but I didn't want to say it. He continued, "I just need to get free. I just need some time to get free. Let me do this here. Let me set myself free." I thought about it. (!You what? Yes. I thought about it.)
He was a nice guy, whatever the fuck that means. I was really uncomfortable with the fact that he walked into my gallery and found it appropriate to start undressing and hanging his clothes from the walls like an art display but he was a nice guy.
What? He was.
"How much time do you need?" I asked him.
He shook his head bewildered and I said, "I'll give you five minutes but you have to stay over here around the corner and then I want you to get dressed and leave."
What? You did what? Seriously? Katie? WTF?!?
What's wrong with that? What's wrong with that!? There's a man in my gallery who is, clearly, insane, right? And I'm pleading with his insanity by giving him five minutes to be naked so he can "get free".
Anyway, he said, "No. I need at least half an hour."
Now that seemed rude to me, for some reason. I'm being pretty cool about all of this, aren't I? I mean he walked in and started hanging his clothes on the walls and I've just asked him to get dressed. Fuck this guy!
"Put your clothes on and get outta here," I said to him.
"I can't do that," he replied and he looked a bit distraught.
"Are you hot? Are you on something?" Was that what he meant? He needed to get naked because he was overheating and feeling trapped in his body?
"No, I just feel trapped by these clothes. These clothes aren't me."
"You do look like one of the Blues Brothers in that outfit," I said.
He nodded.
"Look," I began trying to reason with this man, "I've got artists coming in here to pick work up today and I can't have a naked man running around the gallery."
"But on your door, it says that you may see things in here that you're not expecting to see," he pleaded. He was referring to my sign on the door which reads "Art Gallery. Mature content may be on display" That fucking sign. All because I don't want to censor work, right? And here I am, censoring.
"That's for artwork," I said to him and referenced my giant nude Eve painting which was right next to him, "See Eve there can be naked because she's a painting. You need to get dressed." It was a bullshit point, I know.
"Does my body offend you?" He asked.
"No. Your body doesn't offend me, there's nothing wrong with your body I just want you to get dressed and leave," I said. Man, I was grumpy! I really was.
I walked back outside. If this guy wasn't getting dressed now I was going to call the cops. Fuck this guy! I asked him to leave and now he wasn't leaving or getting dressed. I was angry.
I tried 311 to get the non-emergency number for the police. It didn't work. I tried 211-COPS which was, I thought the right number. Nope. I wasn't going to call 911 because a man was taking his clothes off. That's insane.
"Honestly, Katie, you should just call the cops," Jared explained to me, "this guy's trip has probably just started. He's probably just getting warmed up. This could go on and on and you don't know what he'll do." True. Alright.
I dialed 911, knowing our officers must have more important things to do like catch car thieves.
I walked back into the gallery, while I was on the phone with an officer who was asking me questions like, "Did you see a weapon? Is the tazer you keep in the gallery secured? Did you see a weapon or any drugs or alcohol? Do you smell alcohol? Is he violent?" No, not a violent guy. I told the officer that he was a nice guy, I felt kind of bad for calling the police in the first place. He wasn't dangerous, he just wouldn't get dressed and I've asked him to leave and he's not leaving. Otherwise, totally nice guy. Very peaceful. Very calm. Not a threat. But I was going to wait outside because I didn't know what this guy was going to do and I didn't want an altercation to arise from any further confrontation.
"Hey," I called out to the man, who now stood by Paula Manning-Lewis paintings in his tight grey underpants, "I'm on the phone with the police now. You need to get dressed and leave, alright buddy?"
"KD, can I just talk to you?" he asked me as I turned and walked back out the front door.
The police arrived fast. I was impressed. I had been expecting to wait for hours and it was less than 30 minutes from the time I'd made the call. I think.
An officer snapped some blue gloves on as she followed me in.
I told the officers he wasn't violent or dangerous at this point. We approached him. The officers asked me to leave.
Time passed.
Finally, they had reasoned with him.
The officer explained to me that he'd told this man that he needed to get my permission and arrange and plan and make an appointment with me before doing this kind of performance art. That made sense. I wished I had thought to say something so obvious. Then again, I doubt it was the officer's reasoning so much as it was being told this or anything like it by an officer.
We entered the gallery and walked up to the other officer who was assisting the now dressed man in getting the rest of his clothes down from the walls. He apologized for being a pain in my ass and weirding me out. I walked around and picked up his stuff: A brochure, a magazine, his scarf, and a book. I handed him these saying, "Here's your stuff."
"It's not my stuff," the man said, "It's just the objects that came in with me."
"Right. Well, what I meant was that I'd like you to take the stuff you brought in with you back out with you." At that, he accepted the objects and I handed him his coat.
He finally answered his phone which had been ringing loud and severely over and over and over again throughout this ordeal. He answered on speaker-phone as the cops and I exchanged funny looks.
"Hey, where are you?" a concerned voice asked.
"You're being too clingy with me, alright?" said the now dressed man to his friend on speakerphone in a voice that reminded me of my own. We all walked out of the gallery together as this man continued saying to speakerphone, "I want you to enjoy my company but I don't want you restraining me or leading me around. I feel trapped because you're being too clingy..." He walked across the street continuing his conversation and the officers asked to speak with me for a moment.
I thanked the officers for their help and one of them asked me, "So you know this guy?"
"No," I said.
"You mean this was just some random-"
"Yes! Some random guy walking into my gallery and -"
"You're just so calm," said the officer to me, bewildered.
"Well, he wasn't a threat. I'm sorry to have called you because I'm sure you guys have better things to do. I just couldn't reason with him and get him to leave," I said. The officers smiled and nodded. They explained that I was right, they were they said, literally the only two officers in Albuquerque taking calls right now. But, they said laughing, this was the best call they'd had all day! They were expecting something much worse.
What I've learned from Saturday's events? If you walk into my gallery and take off more than your socks, shoes, hat, and jacket...once you take off your shirt, if you're not one of the homeless people using my bathroom or a model being paid by me to pose according to a civil agreement with me as an artist, and you're taking the liberty to hang your clothes on the walls where paintings have just come down, I get very uncomfortable. I don't think it's the nudity so much as I'm a control freak about what hangs in the gallery. I'm glad this is a welcoming space that inspires people, but there is something rather uncivil about taking the liberty to strip without explanation. I admit this has tested my boundaries and what I find indecent.
I've been told I think too much. Now I get it. I admit I thought too much during this episode. There is something to be said for having the confidence to make an insistence without feeling the compulsion to defend your reasons. I find that extremely difficult and it does affect my ability to operate a business. Was it wrong to offer this man five minutes? Was it wrong of this man to do what he did? What was unethical about his behavior? I could have just let him carry on and be nude in the gallery. I think it was more the demonstration he made that I could not predict his behavior. Something about the fear of the unknown.
I think too much.
