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Flirting with the fictional

When artist Sophie Calle met novelist Paul Auster they turned fiction into reality. Now Calle wants somebody else to invent a life for her

By Hettie Judah   June 2001

it is a cold spring morning in Chelsea, Manhattan, just at that section where the grimly chic galleries muster themselves on the western edge of the island, as if preparing for a leap into the Hudson. Here, the art is interspersed with auto repair shops, rusting railway bridges and out of date film posters. Standing out against the car yards can be spotted huddles of New York art fanciers disporting themselves in ironic fur coats and deeply serious facial hair.

This Saturday one huddle is especially big and self-conscious. Elements of it are filtering in and out of a glass-fronted…

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