MANICOMIO! A report

Characters. Impersonations. Rumours.

November 1921. TS Eliot is composing the poem which would become The Wasteland, under the working title ‘He do the police in different voices’. The phrase is taken from Charles Dickens’ Our Mutual Friend, where it refers to an orphan’s impersonation of different characters from the crime reports in the newspapers.

May 2017, a rumor spreads through Frieze New York that three movie characters escaped their films and found their way into the fair.

This is one report.

manicomio-body-3.jpg

Courtesy: Dora Budor/Frieze

Courtesy: Dora Budor/Frieze

I heard he was here?

Who?

The man. 

Which one?

The pilot?

Not a real pilot.

No. Not a real pilot.

But a real pretend pilot.

No a real pretend pilot actor.

A collector?

Maybe a collector.

The client buys.

I heard it was a man hunting.

Or the client dies.

manicomio-body-5.jpg

Courtesy: Dora Budor/Frieze

Courtesy: Dora Budor/Frieze

He was catching.

Catfishing?

Hunting.

For art.

Hunting for a deal.

Hunting for a buck.

Down the clients throat

No a man hunted. By a bear.

There was no bear.

No I think the thing was it was unbearable.

Churn. There was a lot of churn.

I saw him in belt and braces.

He grabbed a woman by the throat.

No that was a sculpture. The sculpture had a throat.

And faces broken open.

That was art.

manicomio-body-1.jpg

Courtesy: Dora Budor/Frieze

Courtesy: Dora Budor/Frieze

Where?

At Leo’s.

Leo who?

Leo two. Or Three.

No Leos. A hunter, a salesman. And a pilot.

Not a real pilot.

No, not a real. Pilot. A real actor pilot real collector real bear.

(HURRY UP PLEASE)

As long as you can grab a breath

Not a bear. No bear. (Exit, pursued)

I can’t bear this!

Pick up the phone

Grab a breath

Nor can they.

What do you mean?

But you want to say

No. What do you mean?

They are lost. They are in their world. Their film world.

manicomio-body-4.jpg

Courtesy: Dora Budor/Frieze

Courtesy: Dora Budor/Frieze

One was kind. He said I'm nothing really

I heard one shouting Where are my FUCKING KILLERS

The real world.

The REAL WORLD?

Road Rules?

There are no rules.

MY FUCKING KILLERS

manicomio-body-2.jpg

Courtesy: Dora Budor/Frieze

Courtesy: Dora Budor/Frieze

There is no world.

Who said that?

The man! 

The second man?

As of this moment, I am that second mouse.

This is not my beautiful mouse.

WHERE ARE MY FUCKING KILLERS

Haunts my reverie.

(IT'S TIME)

Edit. Cut. Roooooooollllliiiiinnnnggggg.

I don’t know what happened first. It’s kinda laid a mindfuck on me.

Jordan Belfort. Frank Abagnale. Hugh Glass.

Shantih — Shanty — Anti

manicomio-body-7.jpg

Courtesy: Dora Budor

Courtesy: Dora Budor

Matthew McLean is a writer and editor based in London, UK.

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