In 2021 I bumped into Ai Weiwei in Lisbon, just after the pandemic. It’s still the first and only time I’ve ever walked up to someone famous for no particular reason. I interrupted what looked like a perfectly nice conversation he was having with a shop owner, said “Hey Ai Weiwei, big fan,” and immediately held out my hand. He looked at it, smiled politely, and shook his head. COVID, of course. I apologised, then somehow followed up by asking him why he was in Lisbon and not in China. I already knew the answer, but for reasons unknown, that became my question. He smiled and said he didn’t exactly have the best relationship with the Chinese authorities.
My girlfriend had watched the whole thing. When I asked her to take a photo she whispered, “Who is this guy?” I told her I’d explain later, then put my arm around him, somehow forgetting the handshake I’d just been denied. After thanking him, I instinctively offered my hand again. “Still not a great idea,” he smiled. I then took this photo of him. On the way home my girlfriend asked what the fuck had just happened to me. I told her I thought I’d been temporarily insane. I’ll save the photo of the two of us for another note, when I’m ready.
