Upon my return to San Francisco I was locked out of my apartment (see description in Part 1).

I had no plan when I got off the plane in San Francisco. I was not relishing the opportunity to be locked out. I was annoyed and mad at myself for making art work like this. I just wanted to go home and hide. My intentions: To create a work of performance art that was not only in the moment, but transcended the moment as well. This could be accomplished by insisting that the audience at the performance event was not witnessing my performance. The true action and intended purpose of my performance was going to happen in the future and the audience would not be able to witness it. They only knew that there was something occurring outside of there field of perception that they are directly connected to. The connection was represented by the gesture of me giving my keys to each of the audience members. By giving my keys to stranger I set up the opportunity for someone to invade the life of myself and my roommates. Though I can not control the way in which someone interacts with my piece my intention was not to provide the opportunity for someone to do this. My intention was to be locked out of my apartment. Getting off the plane I took the subway to my apartment. All the while worrying that someone will abuse or misunderstand my gesture and decide to enter my private world. I attached to all the things in room and decided which I could live without and which would be devastating to loose. Which I could afford to replace and which were irreplaceable. I did not want to be locked out. I began to figure out the path of least resistance. I planned what I would say to my roommates when I called and said I was locked out. How I would get in contact with them. More than anything else, I was exhausted.

Arriving at the gate to my apartment building I began to call one of my roommates who was at work. Before I could dial any numbers one of the people that lives in my building came downstairs. She let me in the gate. I told her that I was locked out and I needed to go down her back stairwell to see if I could get into my apartment. She let me into the building. I went down the back stair well and was happy to find a safe place to put my bags while I figured out what to do. I decided to see if I could break into my apartment. I climbed up a wall and piled up some cinder blocks and was able to reach one of the windows to my room. I managed to pop the window open and climbed in. I was locked out for about twenty minutes. This is not the first time that I have done things like this as a locksmith. I have climbed up pipes, jumped down porches, squeezed under garage doors…what ever it took to get in a person in. This is not as noble as it seems. If I don’t get the customer in I don’t get paid. Climbing thru my window on March 14th I felt like I was entering a strangers room. I had never experienced my room from this vantage point. Despite my worry and the desire that I felt on the plane to be in my room, when I finally was there I didn’t associate with a single thing in there. None of it seemed like mine. None of it seemed important. It was not my room. The only emotion that was distinct was a sense of relieve that the piece was over and that it wasn’t too annoying of an experience. I had to work the next morning. I had people and obligations that I was expected to take care off. These are my baggage. These are the things that I attach to and from which I develop my notion of myself. These are my keys. In the end it was the obligations that I couldn’t handle living without…the material things in the room mean very little to me. I suppose I couldn’t live with the idea that I would let those obligations down. Those are heavy and bulky keys for me. Truthfully, more than anything else I learned that my apartment is terribly insecure. And judging by reaction, so am I.

The Locksmithing Institute of Contaminate: Part 2 (four days later), San Francisco, 03/07 | 2007 | The Locksmithing Institute