project number . 20050816
project title . shotcode tattoo
medium . ink or washable tattoo
my identity has shrunk to my skin...
<< I link therefore I am >> says WJM
my tattoo is no more a barcode that one scans
for revealing the identity of a product
the extension of my body is a url
we exist because of the envelope, the image
which is drawn, written, or projected onto it
our skin is a state of mind, a habitat, and our identity
the last private space?
my body is a hypertext

8.45: I call C. Cabs in Cambridge, MA. Last goodbyes to the gorgeous Parisian and the Che—B. is Chilean.
9.03: Impatient. A black car stops, with no signs. As I look at it strangely, wondering if it is really my cab (it could not be… right?), a man comes out and screams before I say a word, taking away my suitcases—one of 30 and some kilos and a carry-on.
_Yeah it is me! THEY should have told you… It is a BLACK car, a BLACK car…
_ How… how… do I know… (…it is you?)?
_ Look, You called right? How the hell do I know that you are waiting for a cab for the airport if you hadn’t called? (Mumblings…)
_ Yaz, appelle-moi quand tu es à l’aéroport!”
Last goodbyes, we invite each other for a visit, somewhere on earth. I do not have time to think, I need to go to the Airport. I get in the black car. There is no counter in the cab!
_Yeah you see, they want ME to do what THEY think it is right! It is always the same thing… he says with a loud voice.
_Well if THEY don’t want to change, it would be smart to avoid the confusion… a sticker on the car would do.
_ I would not know that you would want to go to the airport if…”
(I look at him, he looks strangely familiar, nervous like De Niro…)
_ Fiiiine, I really do not have the patience to hear anything else. I am leaving my friends… They are all going back…
_ To Chile?
(I freeze.)
_ How do you know? (silence) You really scare me! (I want to get out).
_ Miss, I have good ears ok, I heard you saying goodbye…”
(I feel just a slightly bit better. Now he looks vexed. I take my Cell Phone out of my handbag, ready to call… my friend or the police? At a red light, he takes his CVS glasses to read a neighborhood newspaper. There really are psychos out… I have maybe seen too many movies… But De Niro does not turn left after the bridge… He goes straight. I panic.)
_ What are you doing?
_ I am doing my job ok. I am going to the airport.
_ You should have turn left!!! I say almost hysterical.
_ Look MISS I know my job OK?! At this time of the day, it is impossible to turn left so I know where I am going…
I am ready to call thinking that it would be too late anyway when I see a panel with a sign to the airport. I feel anxious. It is just the beginning of the journey. Traffic is so slow… The driver gets nervous…
9.36: Airport... finally! I give him a good tip because I am so happy to be there, and he leaves with a smile.