Before becoming the group’s friend, Andy had no friends. During the day, he saw no one except the woman with whom he shared a three-room apartment, who happened to be his mother. People say that during this time, Andy received regular visits from a guy named Dennis. Apparently, Dennis was one of those half-philosopher, half–art critic types who enjoys prowling around art openings and artists’ studios. Andy had met him while he was still working in communications, and at that time, Dennis was frequenting comm agencies. Dennis is also the kind of guy you see all over the place – can’t go anywhere without running into him. Being up-to-date on everything, Dennis enjoyed the story of Andy’s sacking, and wanted to let him know that, so he expressed a desire to speak with Andy, who, having no friends, agreed to let Dennis hang out in his bedroom-workshop.

Upon seeing Andy’s drawings, Dennis stated, Not bad, delicate lines, undeniable talent as a colourist, sense of composition, bravo . . . it’s cute . . . there’s certainly sensitivity and a technique, but on the other hand, addressing Andy directly, finishing his sentence with a snicker, but if it’s art you want to do, then you’re not there yet. Andy expressed his desire to become an artist, to which Dennis said, Okay, now, pay close attention. And Dennis, the talker that he is, gave a speech showing Andy that it would be judicious for him to work in a certain way, in the process adding two or three pieces of advice regarding his way of being Andy. You will be loved, you will be hated, he concluded by way of a prophecy, showing his naked body and trembling with desire for an unfazed Andy.

Following this studio visit, Andy seemed to work on his artistic expression, keeping Dennis posted on his progress with almost daily telephone contact. Up until the day Andy asked Dennis to visit, claiming he had a few things to show him. After pouring a thick and amber-coloured drink into a whisky glass, a glass he then handed to Dennis, Andy sat him down in front of two works on canvas, depicting two plastic bottles that at first glance looked identical.

And as the story goes, Dennis observed a long moment of silence which he then broke with a long critical commentary, of which Andy didn’t miss a word, scattering in some why?s so that Dennis would say more, fully elaborate his ideas, explain his remarks to the fullest detail in order to achieve the clearest articulation possible, the most intelligible train of thought, using wording Andy would easily be able to reuse the day someone asked him to present his approach in a few short, memorable maxims.

By all accounts, meetings between the two boys became spaced out after that. They planned a series of appointments, which they cancelled. They communicated less and less until they ended up not speaking to each other at all. Andy and Dennis stopped thinking about each other. They lost touch for good.

Andy spent the following months in his bedroom where he drew, painted, decoupaged and coloured. Stretched out on a floor covered with newspapers, magazines, picture books and cut-up texts, with two different radios playing two different radio stations, he read and daydreamed.

After researching the lives of other artists from other times, from other places, Andy thought about his own situation. What could make him an original artist, an artist different from other artists? What if, on the contrary, Andy decided to become a non-original artist, i.e., an artist like some other artist? Andy told himself he could imagine becoming like some other artist. Which led him to the following problem: what is some other artist like? Andy wasn’t unaware that a good number of artists existed before him, some of whom were named Andy. However, is homonymy enough to ensure similarity to his models?

During that evening’s opening in a squatted apartment, Andy took a tour of the exhibition, then designated a corner for himself. He said, This here is my corner, and he went to hide out. He did what one does when one is shy and finds himself in a place where he doesn’t know anyone and everyone else seems to know each other: stand off to the side, observe the surrounding opening-goers, listen, take notes. But given the present company at this opening, there is no corner in which to go be forgotten. There’s still a video camera lurking.

Upon entering the shot, Andy was immediately offered an interview. Andy loves the idea of an interview. But he really prefers to ask the questions himself . . .