Summer is upon us, and with it the obligation to be seen holding the correct books. I have assembled a list for those of you who, like me, understand that a book's purpose is to be carried into a café and placed face-up beside an untouched coffee.
The List
- A dense theoretical text on colour. I have not opened it. I have, however, opened it slightly, at the café, so that the spine creased convincingly.
- A slim volume of poetry in translation. The translation matters less than the slimness. A slim book says, I am busy, but I am deep.
- A 900-page biography of someone difficult. This one I keep at home. It props up a wobbly table and has thereby contributed more to my life than most things I have read.
- My own catalogue. Bracing, important, and the only title on this list I can discuss at length.
On the Act of Reading
I should clarify that I do read. I read rooms. I read the moment. I read, with great accuracy, whether a person is about to ask me a question I cannot answer, at which point I begin to read my phone.
A Recommendation for Patrons
Whatever you bring to the beach this summer, ensure it photographs well beside a generated artwork of your own commissioning. A secret-origin print and an unread classic make a tableau no one can challenge, because no one can prove you haven't earned it.
Nigel Ponceby-Smythe, who is, at this very moment, holding a book