RO ON EYESPACE – 2

SPACE IN THANKSGIVING WINE GLASSES

Guy holds up a lens that makes me see my glass this way:

http://www.rohini.com/thanksgiving/

GUY ON EYESPACE

THE EYE OF A HURRICANE

What is a bubble? When we look at a bubble, are we perceiving the space inside it, or (I think more probably) are we perceiving the container of that space?

At first blush a bubble seems to be, by definition, not space but container: anti-space enclosing space neatly and efficiently. But actually, that’s not really right. Another use we have for “bubble” is what we could also call a “pocket”: an area of negative inside a positive. Holes in swiss cheese are bubbles, you know—at least before the cheese is sliced.

I mention this because we often actually do conflate space with its container. A bubble is an easy example, but what about the “P Spot” Rohini talked about earlier? Most anyone would say that the P Spot is a space; that when those poor locker-room men and women are looking at the P Spot, they’re looking at negative space.

But I’d say that when you are looking at the P Spot, in fact you are probably more aware of its container—naked people!—than of anything else. The P Spot is both the space and its container, inseparable.

In American football, quarterbacks are not trained to throw the ball at their teammates (receivers), but actually to throw the ball at spaces between the opposing team’s players. The fact that they have to be trained into this shows our innate tendency to recognize mass rather than its lack, but the fact that they’re highly successful at it shows that on an instinctive level, space and anti-space are on a more equal footing than we realize.

This understanding allows us to perceive mass better, because normally observing an object—an individual mass—leads us to ignore its container, the space around it. Thus we miss information and perception until we realize that the two are one.

Seem a bit abstract? Then consider the hurricane. Understanding its rotation requires recognition of the space around it. Hurricanes happen to rotate counter-clockwise in the Northern Hemisphere because the heavier airs surrounding them rotate clockwise—not because they turn that way on their own. You don’t usually see these surrounding airs because you’re focused on the storm. But the the only way to understand hurricanes, if not all weather, is to look at everything, positive and negative, massy and light, empty and full: all side-by-side, associated, and intertwined.

ADAM K ON EYESPACE

FOR YOUR EYES ONLY

My reaction to Ro's naked glaze in the men’s locker room at the gym conjures up the memory of a pregnant moment in Luis Bunuel’s film, Un Chien Andalou. (Or perhaps it is really an abortive moment?).

Here’s the scene from my memory:

A delicate young woman is seated on a chair in a limbo setting. (A kind of space that’s everywhere and nowhere.) A man, gentlemen-like. stands right behind her. The two are in portrait mode, gazing at the audience. They look as if they know that they are being watched (at least by the camera). The audience sitting in the theater is surely less reflective, less aware, watching at will and without reproach from the safety of their cushiony seats.

Slowly, the man lifts up his arm to reveal a straight-edged razor. He holds it tenderly in his hand. The camera then creeps in for a close-up of the woman’s face, and comes to rest only when one of her eyeballs fully fills the screen.

The macro eyeball is raw, bulbous, and viscous. The spatial relationship is disorienting. The effect is unsettling. Suddenly, the activity of seeing becomes an object to contemplate, and no doubt to question – as in, “what’s going on here?” Bunuel’s answer is nothing short of the unthinkable. The frozen moment is about to become thoroughly chilling. The razor blade slides across the smooth and silky surface of the defenseless eyeball. It cuts deep. (I believe Bunuel used a real cow’s eye. No special effects here.)

Yes, the eye is disfigured. But what’s more disturbing is that the entire “space” is ruptured. The space on the screen. The space between the viewer and the screen. The space inside the viewer’s mind. I remember at the moment of incision turning away, not wanting to ‘see’. Abort the space. Now, years later, I still don’t really want to ‘see’ this moment. It’s almost too much for the mind’s eye to take in.

So what’s the learning here? First off, if you haven’t seen this Bunuel film, do so. (And keep your eyes peeled for the eyeball scene.) Secondly, try to always watch where you’re going. Otherwise you might end up in a space that’s not always pretty to look at, or be seen in. You know, like a men’s locker room.

RO ON EYESPACE – 1

COMFORT OR CLUTTER?

So. I decided to study visual space in locker rooms. I started somewhat inadvertently in the Men’s by wandering into it by accident. Dazed, I watched men grapple with modest shock for their invisible fig leaves, protesting with accusatory, wounded glances – poor deer in the headlights.

Not a little embarrassed, I fled to the Women’s locker room, where shared space is a silent, seething bugbear on everyone’s mind. Who is really the encroacher – the stripper or the "strippee"? Why should I avert my gaze and limit what is my rightful visual territory when someone flaunts her unsolicited nakedness? If I looked, wouldn’t their space be just as violated? To this, American comedian and writer Rich Hall has a solution: The “P Spot”, a place on the wall which men in washrooms meditate upon, fearing that a glance in any other direction might arouse suspicion.

On the eye, space is as much a comfort to some as clutter is to others. The Japanese worship minimalism, treating space itself as an object. Perhaps this also explains the white plate rage in restaurants, used to display the art of food. My own obsessive-compulsive preferences demand sitting away from the clutter of cutlery and the crowdedness of corridors – God forbid washrooms – when I dine at a restaurant. "Princess", they call me, but why doesn’t it sound like a compliment?

"Princess" wears block colors, never prints - no matter how pretty. Princess also has mirrors on her walls in place of pictures; with space reflecting space. Compare that to a fridge crowded with magnets and attempts at art by children of proud glowing parents. Who’s to say what’s right?

My pet peeve is space in wine glasses. Nothing offends my sensibilities more than a glass of wine filled to the unsightly brim. If anything needs to breathe, it’s Wine. In addition to "Breathability", there needs to be room for "Swirlability". How will you perceive the rim, and read its difference from the core? How will you allow it to tell its story of Viscosity through its tears?

This is where I bow gracefully out of your visual space and ask you to fill mine with your thoughts.