The gallery is not

Today I realise that the gallery is a magical place.

Don't ask me to define what is magic. It is this magical but not-magical, sacred but not sacred, this not profane but not not profane place.

Don’t ask me what is a gallery. The gallery is not a gallery not the exhibition not a physical thing not the artwork not the audience not a museum not a art centre not a private nor a public space. But also all of the above. You know what I mean about the gallery intuitively. Let us go beyond these etymological games.

Here I am a person, an audience an artwork, an agent, a passive an active, a perceiver and also part of the space.

Because I have been familiar, because I am strange, I am peculiar and I accustom and displace or misplace.

Today I am artwork I am part of the universe I am ignored I am alone I am unperceived but perceived and a secret and a non-non-profane.

Today I realise that there is temporal space.

Today as I shuffle quickly between the different frequencies and roles of my existence here I discover there is another place or frequency or space to exist beyond the previously limited imaginable space.

As the door is pried open I am immediately conscious of the moment and channels or whatever it is that shuffles across my brain or mind or head…space…

Beyond the words that fail to describe. Yes they pile up and upon them I climb up to reach this… sense or what that I cannot grasp in the precise.

I am not interested in the description and my failure to articulate and etymological games and limitations. I am interested in experiencing this experience, this position this feeling this… sense.

This sense not sense that the not-gallery is a not-magical, not sacred, not not profane, not special not inarticulable not place.

(also for Isaac, lynx, hyesu from our exchanges today. As I finished writing this the door just opened and gave me a shock and I mumbled 吓到我.)