OUR FOODBANK MONA LISA. A SURREAL MOMENT IN THE EMERGENCY FOOD GAME

 

It turned up a couple of weeks ago. The picture. I didn't notice it. And I probably never would have noticed it. I have never been remotely observant and old age has rendered me pretty much blind to everything barring the blindingly obvious.

So it was left to Sean to notice.

I suppose it was kind of meant to be Sean. He floats his way through life, always wide open to the strange. The out of step.

So it was he walked through the front door with an unusual gleam in his eyes.

"Have you seen it?"

"Seen what?" And I can't say I was giving his question my full attention. I am used to Sean asking me questions to which I have no answer. He once asked if I thought Yetis were an actual thing.

His explanation at first glance seemed very Sean. There's a picture wedged behind a drain pipe by the front door. A portrait. A mystery.

I just said I hadn't seen it and cracked on with the day to day stuff a food bank manager cracks on with.

When the time came for me to step through our front door a couple of hours later, Sean's question hopped back into my head.

"Have you seen it?"

So I stopped in my tracks and took a look. At first I didn't see it. Like I said, I'm unobservant.

Then I saw it.

And it was just like Sean had said. A white canvas, about 12 inches by 12 inches. A line drawing of what looked like a young woman but it could just as easily have been a young man.

A few words written at neck level. In scratchy capitals.

'A BRIGHT SPRING DAY'

The words were not on the level. They were tilted, starting low and climbing high.

I took a photo which my phone won't allow me to download. So you'll have to take my word for how it was. A line drawn face. Not exactly Picasso, but not bad.

And in a way, it raised a whole bunch of questions. Were they life and death questions? Not even close. They were quiet questions on a quiet April day of watery sunshine. High white clouds. People still needing a coat to stave off the chill.

Not really such a bright spring day after all. So the picture must have been penned on another day. And we haven't had many bright spring days this year. Not yet.

So maybe this was from last year. Or the year before.

So why now? And why our drain pipe?

Was it the drain pipe itself? Did our particular downspout offer the perfect space for wedging a picture? And was the relative quiet of Buccleuch St somehow preferable to the heavier foot traffic of the High St?

Or was it important to the artist to site the picture at the entrance to a foodbank. Was it a message to those who made their way inside? Street art for the victims of the world we live in?

At a time when the price of everything is going up and up, the cost of a bright spring day remains stable. Unchanged. Free at the point of use. A hint at the summer to come when the heating can be switched all the way off and the incomings have a fighting chance of matching up with the outgoings.

Was our artist an aspiring Banksy? Was the location a part of the art? Was our front door every bit as much a part of the picture as the picture itself?

Or was the foodbank connection a pure red herring?

How much had our artist paid for the canvas itself? Amazon suggests about three quid for 10 x 8. Not a fortune, but not nothing either.

Assuming our drain pipe was indeed the gallery of choice, then maybe our clients are the preferred viewers. A drain pipe outside M&S would have meant more eye balls. But different eye balls. The Big Issue sellers choose the pavement outside M&S to maximise their remuneration. Our guy was clearly uninterested in financial reward. Instead they had invested £3 for the pleasure of going public.

So who is the face by the drain pipe? Our very own foodbank Mona Lisa? Subject unknown. Artist unknown. Do they even know their face is on our wall? Do they walk by every day on the way to work with a small, knowing smile. That's me. Right there. Wedged by a drain pipe. Bringing news of a bright spring day. Not taken down yet. Not shipped away to land fill.

Left in peace. Respected? Yeah. Respected. How many passing pedestrians have noticed? Stopped in their tracks? And have they smiled or frowned? Have they approved or sneered?

Have they judged?

Have they felt anything?

Has a contribution been made?

Is the world a better place?

Is it really a food bank Mona Lisa?

Or is it merely the right drain pipe at the right time?

I have absolutely no idea and that of course is the whole point.

And now, on the very day I have penned these words, our food bank Mona Lisa is no longer with us. Gone without any trace other than the undownloadable photo in my tired old phone.

Our drain pipe stands alone and unadorned..