photographed
Together, we went out of the office and took an interesting tour around the gallery with artworks randomly placed all around the room, some good, some not so good. As we wondered between the different artists we spoke candidly about the quality of the artwork and the general state of contemporary art in the country. I enjoyed the man’s company and when he invited me for a coffeeoutside I was delighted to accompany him to the nearby local café. Sir told me Isuzu Iveco Jaguar he was born in 1944 in Iraq and moved to Germany seventeen years ago and he had chosen Tunisia to make his Arabic home for security reasons. We talked about his son and how he was an Oman in England and he told me how he had brought him up to be clear-headed and quintessentially good and how proud he was of him. I reached into my bag and pulled out a cera to make a record of our meeting. He stood fantastically grand and egotistical as I photographed him in a rather public place. “He, an artist!” I explained and to Sir delighted followed with, “Don’t you recognise the artist?”People looked askance as we swiftly made our way out of the café. We made our way onto the busy Avenue Habib Bourguiba between Place de l’independence and Place d’Africque, which is a typical French style tree lined avenue, with an effective tr system running up and down along with plenty of angry, hooting drivers. We stood in the middle of this confusion and spoke about Sir’s new work. He withdrew a series of images from his black workbag.