Art

Finally made it into the Martin Creed exhibit: Work No. 360: Half The Air In A Given Space, at the Henry Art Gallery.  It was the closing day.  Had meant to go on Thursday (not sure why I didn't), then on Friday, my sister was in town, so I met her for lunch, yesterday I had a headache, and earlier today I sang at a memorial service (one of the nicest services I've been to), and got home around 2 pm, gallery closes at 4, so hemmed and hawed, but finally jumped on a bus and got there after 3 pm.  There was a sign saying if you weren't in line by 3, you wouldn't get in, but I guess seeing it was the last day, and the biggest crowds they'd had (there was a good write-up in the Stranger, and students are back on campus because the UW starts this week), I heard someone come over and tell the desk that they would lock the door at 4, but keep the exhibit open until 5 pm...I got in just before 5.  I was in line from a little less than two hours.  When the line got close to the exhibit (a room 1/2 full of silver latex balloons, although, by the time I got in the attendant that opened the door joked that it was now "1/4 of the air") the smell of latex hit my nose, and the combined sound of people screaming, balloons popping, and the movement of the balloons was surprisingly loud.  The line moved slowly.  Watching from above and seeing how hard people struggled to get to the door added to my sense of trepidation (I hadn't gone sooner because I was wondering if I would panic.)

At one point there was so much popping of balloons that we joked that by the time we got in, we'd be running around and screaming in a room empty, save one balloon (that would take a bit, at its fullest, there were 37,000 balloons in the room.)

So, I did get in.  At that door, the level was low and there was a very tall man moving about, head above it all, so it seemed reasonable.  Went in, immediately came into the path of two people trying to get out, which create a tidal wave of balloons around me, and suddenly I was underneath them.  More difficult to push through than you would imagine.  For a while I could hit them up and away from me, and feel like I had air space above, but then the next moment find myself buried and having a difficult time moving through, ie, unable to push my way, trying to get my feet around the ones on the floor, but no where to push them.  I made my way back toward the door, and then a new wave of people entered, the first two running, and the next two saying they were going to the other door, so I figured I would, too.  I stayed near the wall thinking it would be easy, but halfway, I was buried and trapped (it might have actually been easier in the middle.)  It was interesting to have something so light (air, essentially) pushing a force back against me from every side, and at that point being buried about five layers down, so having trouble displacing the ones around me, as there wasn't anywhere for them to go.  Also, they vibrated, which was only expected in that I saw a single balloon out on the patio as I waited in line, and it vibrated against the ground.  That was trippy, as if they had life.  And I could hear people, but rarely saw anyone else.  Finally, a change in the light indicating a doorway, and I made my way toward it, needing a surprising amount of effort to get there, again, there was no where to push the balloons away that were between me and the door; I could hear someone (a kid, I think) to my right, fighting his way to the door, wanting out.

Overall, a strange experience.  Facing a little bit of fear, but also, experiencing something that I probably won't have the opportunity to again (although, this participatory sculpture does tour around.)

When I got out, one of the security men handed me a dart and asked me if I wanted to pop balloons.  I went at them with a vengeance.  It was satisfying.

Off to go find the moon that is super tonight.  (And the nights are suddenly chilly, high 30's/low 40's after all those nights hovering around 70 not too long ago.)