Zelig

At a talk about computer art I meet a computer scientist. We introduce ourselves: he knows of my doctoral work in pure mathematics many years ago. I've never before met anyone, even amonst mathematicians, who's heard of my work, so this is rather a shock.

As it happens earlier this week I came across my doctoral thesis, which I hadn't opened for twenty years. I was out of my depth, but I don't think that can be seen from the thesis. I can blend into whatever company I find myself. Amongst mathematicians, even if I'm not a creative mathematician, I can pass myself off as one. Amongst artists, I can talk intelligently about art; at a concert recently I found myself discussing coherently a new piece of music with a distinguished pianist when I really didn't understand it at all.

This chameleon-like ability to fit in is useful but obscures my identity. What is the real me? I'm not a mathematician or an artist or a musician. I feel that I'm a collection of mirrors which reflect back the interests of my friends and the people around me: I don't know how to find the essential me behind the mirrors. If indeed there is anything there at all.