On Another Plane

Please switch on and off the light in the gallery yourself. In order to be green we decided not to use power when no visitors are within the premise. Also right now we do not have an intern to sit there to read magazines. Sorry about the inconvenience. We are new at this.

Here I want use this opportunity to say a few words about the space, and hopefully later-on another time to address more insight as the program and agenda develops. Not to imply there is a lack of planning and vision, though an insistence a more organic growing process. Granted, it is not a grand space, but we are humble and we are honest.

The original concept of the space was very simple: to provide a site where artists are comfortable to carry out their ideas. In the following paragraphs I want to express (or explain) the sentiments that I had in a less methodical manner. A sensibility, if you will:

“I think about this every time: sitting on the airplane, flying across seas and bodies of land, boredom sinks in. I want to chat with the stranger next to me. I want to talk to the pretty girl next to me. But I never strike a conversation. The reason beings: The angle of approach. Quite literally I do not feel comfortable turning my head ninety degree to the right or left to talk to another passenger. Obviously I am not a robot. It is an extremely uncomfortable position. Pulling the wrong muscles on my face (zygomatic major) and my smiles looks off. Let’s just say, its not my best look. Also the proximity to the passenger next to you its problematic. If two passengers actually hold their heads ninety degree for the duration of a conversation, bystanders would think they are about to makeout.

Of course our eyes are not locked in onto another person’s when we talk. We actually move our eyes quite a bit, and it is natural because such act releases tension. I am going to call this the Butterfly Movement. We look at their eyebrows. We look at their hair. We look at our shoes. We look at the hot dog vendors on the street. We just don’t lock onto another pair of eyes while chatting about Billboard chart toppers. It is creepy. But on board a plane there is really not much else to move our eyes to. Twelve inches in front of you is a plastic table folded up holding in position by a tiny piece of plastic. All edges are baby-safe. It would be hard to kill yourselves on purpose on a flight. Fabric patterns on the seats are uninspiring. The ceiling is just bunch of symbols and flashing tiny light bulbs. Again, all edges are baby safe. No worries about throwing a four-month-old baby up in the air. You look out the window and just clouds. But those clouds are on the opposite side of the person you are talking to (yes I always sit window seats). Seems extremely rude to turn your head 180 degree from the conversation.

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