The Observer
January 9th, 2021
Starring: Lenny (male, 45-55), Claude (male, 55-70)
The entrance of a prominent art gallery/museum. Think the Met, Guggenheim, MoMa, the Getty. The area is full of people sitting around, taking photos, milling about, feeding pigeons. Somewhere near the doors, Claude sits overlooking the space. He sits in silence, wearing tweed, watching the crowd. Lenny, in a full construction outfit, sidles up next to him.
LENNY
Mind if I join you?
Claude looks up and smiles. He speaks with a strong French dialect:
CLAUDE
Please.
LENNY
I see you every day. While I’m on lunch break.
CLAUDE
You walk in from the West side. You get two slices of pepperoni pizza from the cart, sit down on the far right, then make a phone call. Your father, I’d presume.
Except today.
LENNY
I wanted to introduce myself.
Leonard. But call me Lenny.
CLAUDE
Lenny. Pleasure.
Claude. Come, sit.
Lenny sits next to Claude, staring out.
LENNY
My Dad’s in assisted living. He enjoys the calls.
CLAUDE
Of course. Who wouldn’t?
…
LENNY
So do you lipread?
CLAUDE
Just observe. Patterns, body language, some informed guessing. All in a day’s work.
LENNY
What’s the work?
CLAUDE
I’m the observer in-residence.
LENNY
I didn’t know jobs like that existed.
CLAUDE
They’re never publicized.
LENNY
Then how do you get it?
CLAUDE
When enough people are convinced what you see is worth thinking about.
LENNY
So I should know you.
CLAUDE
No. Unless you are some stuffy scholar with a pole up their bum.
I taught for a long time in France. Wrote some essays. Next thing I know, they ask me here.
LENNY
To watch people.
CLAUDE
Observe. They call me the father of modern sociological observation.
LENNY
They?
CLAUDE
More people with poles up their bums.
As far as I’m concerned, I’m just a seasoned people-watcher.
LENNY
So what do they want from you?
CLAUDE
Intelligence. See who’s coming in, coming out, who’s staying away.
LENNY
They don’t know their crowd by now?
CLAUDE
They do. It’s about seeing who else is out there. Reaching the people who need art, but aren’t coming.
People like you, Lenny. Hardworking, curious, with a heart. I’m supposed to find people like you.
LENNY
I don’t have time.
CLAUDE
But if you did, would you come in?
LENNY
No.
I’ve been already. With my Dad, way back when. It was alright. I liked the art. But the whole feel of the place—the vibe, the crowd, the price...it didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel like it was made for me.
CLAUDE
It wasn’t.
LENNY
So why do they want me to come back?
CLAUDE
To prove to themselves art is for everyone. But it’s not. You don’t need the father of modern sociological observation to know that.
The only thing I’ve become more sure of in my time here is nobody likes to change. And most always, for all the right reasons.
LENNY
Is that what you tell them? When they ask you what you see?
CLAUDE
Ha, no. Usually something like “large numbers of tourists from the Eastern hemisphere, twentysomethings with multiple piercings, elderly caucasians.” The obvious.
I often wonder why they still pay me.
LENNY
Because you’re the observer. You see things.
CLAUDE
We all do.
LENNY
You saw me. To me, that meant something.
Can I buy you a slice of pizza?
CLAUDE
I’m not supposed to move.
LENNY
Really. Who’s watching?
Isn’t that what they have you for?
Claude considers, looks around, then nods. He gets up, wiping dust off his tweed. He and Lenny walk towards the pizza cart together.