A Fun Game

How do you get to work? Or, please allow me to rephrase that question; do you go to work? I could mean a couple of things by that. I could be asking whether or not you are one of those new-fangled "e-commuters" who is able to work from home. At the same time, I could be asking whether or not you work at all; perhaps you have inherited a castle with a moat and you spend the day in a smoking jacket.



Well, like most folks, Old Ken goes to work (as what we call in Vera Cruz an "analista de sistemas") using the small object you see above: a London transport "Oyster Card." Why does it have that funny name? On the basis of its seeming ineffectuality as an aphrodisiac (a noted property of that most delicious shellfish), Old Ken is left to infer that the name has something to do with the fact that both objects (cerulean polyurethane card folder and oyster) both open up to reveal their contents. I'm not sure if we can push the analogy much further than that; but that too would be a fun game.



To return to my story, though; when you are on the Tube in London, you will see people reading, listening to music, staring at their hands—seemingly anything other than making eye contact or (heaven forbid!) conversing. Usually Old Ken joins them, reading a book or one of those soul-sucking "newspapers" handed out for free in Tube stations. Yet, recently, having grown weary of the burden of carrying around a novel on top of those other implements necessary to the art—scratch that, science—of the analista de sistemas, Old Ken has sought out a new kind of transport entertainment.



Perhaps inspired by those VIPS scribbling critical things into PDAs on their way (ASAP) to get a little RNR, Old Ken realized that the Oyster Card portfolio could be put to a more aesthetic use. Removing the enclosed map, which seemed to cover the entirety of southeast England and parts of Holland, I tore and folded a few sheets of drawing paper so that they could fit into the portfolio's external pocket. Holding the portfolio fairly close to one's body (as is requisite on a crowded Tube) and using a heavily ink-saturated drawing tool (such as a Sharpie), it is possible to make quick gestural sketches of folks on the train or waiting at the platform relatively inconspicuously.

Here are a few examples. As you will see, they are pretty crap. But, Old Ken would submit that it is an interesting experiment to try to adapt one's hand-eye coordination to the demands of working rapidly on such a small surface and with one's limbs basically compressed in upon the torso. As Jack White once said of his two person band: "It wouldn't excite me if there weren't those limitations, if we weren't living in that box, if we weren't trapped." Wise words.


Here, you'll see a vignette of some people waiting for the bus in that most attractive of all possible hams—Lewisham; and a creepy-looking man on the Tube, who sufficiently evoked a character in a Francis Bacon painting that I thought I'd share him with you. Whee!