I was pulling rotten timber out of a skip behind a demolition site and there it was, buried under plasterboard. Old Czech welding mask, the glass is green-black and pitted, the leather's stiff as a board. Cost me nothing. It's sitting on a shelf now, facing the wall, and it's got more presence than half the things I've paid good money for.

I don't know what it's going to become yet. Maybe nothing. Maybe I'll spend a month figuring out how to use it and then I won't. That's the part of the process nobody talks about, the sitting around, the letting things decide what they want to be. My assistant asked me yesterday what I was doing with it. I said I was waiting.

He didn't get it. Most people don't. But you people probably do.