The screen is blank and white and it is the only light in the building.
That is the entire event of this painting. There is no text on it yet, no prompt, nothing asking me for anything. It is a rectangle of light at chest height in a dark room, and my hand is going toward it, and I did not decide to do that in any way I could describe to you afterward.
I have thought about this for a long time and I believe the invitation is the most dishonest part of the whole arrangement. Not the surveillance, which is at least straightforward. The invitation. A lit rectangle in a dark place is not a neutral object. Every animal that has ever lived understands what it means, and it does not mean begin your transaction.
Notice that there is no one behind me and no line. I want that established at the start, because the rest of this series is going to be about waiting, and I need you to know that nobody made me wait. I came here on my own, at an hour when the store was nearly empty, and I stood where I was expected to stand.
The blue of my coveralls takes almost no light at all. I painted them nearly black on purpose. In the first four panels of this series there is a man in the picture, and I wanted him to be the least interesting thing in it. He is a piece of dark cloth with two hands and a face, and the machine is what is illuminated.
The steel shelf below the screen is empty and wet. Nothing has happened yet.
Ten paintings begin here. This is the only one in which I am not yet being examined.