From time to time, I find myself in the embarrassing position of having to explain to friends, neighbours, and passers-by in the street that the mere fact that I have from time to time studied and mathematics cannot safely be construed to mean that I have the remotest understanding of economics, nor indeed of basic household finance. My thesis was in the vital field of making computers draw complicated pictures of whirlpools and messy balls of string, and had little direct connection with the mundane arithmetic employed by accountants. Mathematicians seldom actually add anything up.
So perhaps it is due purely to my own ignorance that I cannot see how anyone can develop a workable business model out of being a human statue. I see many of these minimalist buskers, and am always impressed by their ability to stand freakishly still in a busy public thoroughfare. I certainly am not capable of standing so still myself, and it seems a marvelous skill that must require years of training. No doubt this occurs in a far distant dojo, where the inscrutable ways of motionlessness are instilled by a venerable stationary master. And probably after attaining the rank of Stillmaster, they are called upon to go out into the world to do mighty deeds of immobility and pay off their student loans.
It seems to me, however, that they do not rate their stillness as highly as I do, because they give it away for free. Instead, they ask me to pay to see them move.
During the course of a normal day, I see many people moving. It is not a skill in short supply. So thus far, I have been loath to donate any money to the human statues, lest they cease their amazing stillness and start walking around hither and yon like normal people.
I can see three explanations for this behaviour. First, it is possible that they have spent so long being still that it has become familiar lost all its magic for them, and they have come to erroneously believe that everybody else is also bored with it, and would like to pay money to see movement. Second, the stillness they give away for free is just a beginning, and for a small donation they will perform even more staggering acts of transfixion. Stillness that goes beyond mere earthly stillness, into mystical dimensions of utter infinite staticity that boggle the mind and make you cry out with wonder. Third, and it saddens me to say most likely, they are perhaps not very good at business.
If it were me, and bearing in mind that I chose chaotic attractors over introductory book-keeping, and certainly no little of the quiescent arts, I would look for an approach to human statuary where I walked around a bit, holding a hat and a sign that promised, say, one minute’s stillness for every dollar placed in it. I am certain that this would be a superior approach.