Fear and Self Loathing in NYC

I’m in New York at a TV Promotion and Marketing Conference and awards. Three feet in front of me is the legendary artist Ralph Steadman clutching my mobile phone looking for a hammer. Three feet behind me, 2000 or so people are staring. At me. Bewildered. And I’m embarrassed. Very embarrassed.

This is not one of those dreams and I’m not naked. Nudity could not strip me of any more dignity.

It wasn’t always like this. A short while ago the room was enchanted. Ralph described moments from his career; told stories and showed personal photos of his close friend Hunter S Thompson; took us through the length and breadth of his work, the good and the bad. Some of it was garbled and incomprehensible but we didn’t care – we were laughing and being inspired. This was Ralph Steadman and he deserved our respect.

He walked onto the stage and his opening gambit was to pull out an Iphone, mutter something about it befuddling him and asking the packed crowd whether he should take an axe end of hammer to it. YES we all hollered, thrilled and excited. Yes Ralph, do it. A hammer was duly brought out and over a piece of wood he skewered the phone to the stump in a shower of tungsten lit lcd crystals. It was magnificent.

Next he projected a picture he had done of Marcel Duchamp and filmmaker Bunuel onto the giant screen and spoke of their influences on him and his book Doodaaa ( a play on Dada). And it was probably about here that it all started to go wrong with me.

‘Ralph likes Duchamp?’ I must have said to myself. ‘I like Duchamp! ‘No, I love Duchamp. Ralph and I are connected. Ralph and I are friends,’ I must have reasoned. I see so easily now how stalkers are born. My eyes drifted to the recently impacted iphone. It reminded me of Ralph’s ‘teacher hammers’ in Pink Floyd’s The Wall. A film, as a kid, I had had a bit part in. See! Ralph and I are connected, Ralph and I are friends.

In that instance I realised how beautiful that phone was. It wasn’t just a broken gadget. It was Dadaism. It was art and I had to have it. I played the scenario through my head. There was bound to be Q&A at the end. I would bound boldly up to the mic, express my in depth Dadaist knowledge and demand the phone. Flattered, Ralph would gladly hand it over, hammer and all - the audience would applause, albeit jealously that they didn’t think of it, and I’d return to my seat with a small piece of art history in my hand.

It didn’t quite go that way.

Ralph was running over and the conference President, Jonathan Block-Verk was duly dispatched to usher him off the stage. Regardless, Ralph called for questions and I dashed to the mic, doubtlessly pushing a few genuine questioners out of the way.

“Ralph, my name’s James” see we’re on first name terms now, “ In the spirit of Dadaism can I take the mobile and I promise to frame it and put it on display?”

So far so good. Ralph seemed down with it and the audience admired my chutzpah. Quick as a flash and with unequivocal determination, president Block-Verk stepped in, “No, I’m putting it in my office,” he said.

He didn’t say – “We’re keeping it in the archives,” or “ We’re auctioning it for Charity.” Oh no. Vert was putting it in his office. I knew, he knew, the crowd and probably even Ralph knew 6 hours later we’d see it on Ebay. I was humiliated and you could hear the audience turn.

“How about,” suggested Ralph, “I do it to your Iphone.” The audience turned again. Will he have the courage of his convictions or wimp out? I was cornered. I handed over my phone, albeit a dated one. What the hell, the insurance company will understand right?

All that was needed was another hammer. And there wasn’t another hammer. “I’ve got a mic,” suggested a stage hand but we all knew a microphone and a Nokia does not great art make. By which point time had passed, we’re all looking like lemons and the joke had lost what little zing it had left. The audience had turned for the final time, clearly not in my favour.

“I’m here in NY all week, come find me,” said Ralph and I was sent back to my seat as a lot of eyes averted there gaze.

Three hours later I was back on the same stage collecting an award for a short film. I resisted the taking-a-hammer-to-the-award gag, said my thank yous and got the hell off the stage, much to the audience’s relief.

“What would you have done with phone?” someone asked me as I sat back down.

Probably put it in my office I concluded.