Though my Stone Roses T-shirt provided little cushioning, the Kalashnikov’s barrel didn’t much hurt when the militiaman used it to prod at my chest. I kept asking myself why I felt so calm. A general placidity blossomed in me like an opiate as soon as the barefoot man appeared with his rifle, seemingly out of [... more ...]
From the Ministry of Silly Walks: Francis Alÿs at David Zwirner, New York, Winter 2007