Albertina Modern, Vienna
Until 12 October 2025
Damien Hirst, Drawings
Same time, same place
This is not the hardest puzzle ever set, but that does not stop it from offering some enjoyable insight onto our assumptions about the way the world works.
A buddhist monk sets off to reach the top of a mountain, walking up a single winding path, slowing, stopping and starting at will, before spending the night at the summit. He sets off back down the mountain at exactly the same time as he set off the day before. Can you show that at some instant during his descent he is at the same place at the same time as he was the day before?
Reveal solution
The solution offered by puzzle’s original setter, the legend of brain tease Martin Gardiner, is that we should imagine there are two monks setting off from the top and bottom of the mountain at the same time on the same day. Their journies must inevitably cross at some point and this would, naturally, have to be at the same place and at the same time. This is an extremely concise and elegant solution, but it is also hard for me to picture and why should we have to shift timeframe and imagine two monks?
It was easier for me to draw a graph of distance up the path and time, zeroed at the time the monk sets off each day (see right). If you try drawing wiggly lines between the top of the mountain and the bottom and bottom to top, you will find they have to cross. This crossing point means the monk is at the same place at the same time of day on both days.
We might also notice, using this method, that the paths can be made not to cross if we had a rogue monk who retreated below the starting point on day one until after the time he returns on day two (see left). Or he might do something similar by setting off then simply levitating above the summit on day two until after his arrival time on day one.
Allowing monks to participate who had the ability to disappear and reappear again would also mess up the argument (see right). It is not the hardest puzzle ever, but this does not stop it from asking us to question our assumptions. ■
Direct action
This is fiction.
Geoff had a problem, a big problem. He had been blissfully unaware of it until his partner, Steff, brought it to his attention.
He was too wary of confrontation. He wasn’t direct enough. And this meant he didn’t sell himself and he let people walk all over him.
Her observation didn’t come from nowhere. In an ideal world Geoff would never say anything to upset anyone. Better to offer someone an awkward gesture and let them fill in the gaps.
So when Colin, the next door neighbour, parked across their driveway Geoff would knock on the front door and say, “Hi, Colin. Sorry to bother you, but do you think you could, maybe, y’know?” Letting Colin guess what he meant.
Colin would impatiently grab his keys, marching to his car as if he were the injured party. This got the car moved with no hostile exchange – Perfect, everyone’s happy, thought Geoff.
Geoff had taken a similar approach at his interview for a promotion last Tuesday. Mike’d asked,
“Geoff, you’ve been with us for 12 year, the last six leading the product return team. Why do you think you’re ready to move up?”
“Well, y’know, I read the job description and I think I can do it. And, well, I thought I should put myself forward, to give you an option.”
“Right. Do you think you have what it takes to coordinate product returns teams across multiple sites, maybe even working across county borders?”
“Yes, I have run my own team for 6 years and have been involved in drawing up coordination plans, some of which involved coordinating with Sheffield and even into Barnsley.”
“Excellent. And do you think you are the best man-person for the job?”
“I do feel I could do the job well, yes. But the best man-person for the job? That’s a tricky one. There are millions of men-people in the world, and also other people. Some of them are bound to be better than me in some respects, aren’t they?”
“So are you’re suggesting we should look elsewhere? Broaden our search, like?”
“Not exactly. I’m just saying that if you did, you are almost certain to find someone better than me. It’s a matter of statistics,” said Geoff, pulling his ear, one of his wide repertoire of awkward gestures.
And with that Mike sank into a moment of reflection, before wrapping up the interview.
“OK, Geoff. We’ve heard enough. We will be in touch.”
Geoff returned to his desk, feeling uncertain. But this uncertainty didn’t last long. Within an hour an email titled “Your application” landed in his inbox.
“Dear Geoff,” it said, so far so good. “Thank you for your application. After some internal discussion we have decided to broaden the scope of our search. I hope this is not a disappointment to you.”
It was, in fact, a deep disappointment to him.
It became even more of a disappointment after he told Steff why he was pulling his ear after breakfast the next morning.
“‘You’re almost certain to find someone better!’?” Steff shrieked. “Geoff!? You’re meant to be selling yourself, not offering statistical insights.”
“I was right, though, wasn’t I?” Geoff said, shrugging.
She told him, no he wasn’t right. She also told him Colin next door wasn’t bothered about statistics and that was why he was a success and had a big car that he constantly parked across their driveway.
“Your inability to stomach confrontation explains why you are a self-sabotaging failure,” she said, slamming the door behind her, leaving Geoff thoughtfully massaging his ear lobe over his half-finished bowl of muesli.
On the other side of the door Steff leant against the doorframe. She felt awful, shocked at what she’d said. Had she gone too far?
“No, no, it had to be said,” she thought, straightening up. “It was for Geoff’s own good. I was harsh but fair. And, anyway, what could possibly go wrong?”
Two weeks later Geoff stood in the dock of a magistrates court, blinking, not quite able to believe it. He faced three counts of public affray, one of anti-social behaviour and one of criminal damage against a motor vehicle.
“Geoffrey Edward Winstanly Hodges, do you have anything to say in mitigation?” said the magistrate presiding over the case.
Geoff pulled his ear, shrugging and bowing his head.
“Please, Mr Hodges, might I ask you to make an audible statement, for the court record.”
“Sorry, your honour. All I can say is that I am truly sorry for the undoubted distress or damage I caused. It troubles me very much.”
He looked over to Steff in the crowd.
“I did it to prove to someone very special, and everyone else, that I am how I am normally because I believe it is the best way for me to be, not because I am afraid.”
“I believe you have, indeed, proven your point most decisively, Mr Hodges, albeit at substantial cost. And I am sure your statement of regret will be of some small comfort to your victims. I hope you will now revert to your previous blameless pattern of behaviour. Despite this I must sentence you to two weeks of community service and issue you with a fine of £900 as a penalty for the distress you caused,” the magistrate told the court, banging his gavel. “Court dismissed.”
Geoff turned to leave the stand, looking over at Steff who looked back smiling, unable to suppress a mix of pride and excitement rising within her. ■