I’m part of a group chat for art openings. I think it was originally called “Art Boiz”, then “Assigned Art Boy At Birth”, and now “Tentatively Making Art Plans”. While eating lunch and scrolling on my phone, someone sends a flier to the group chat for an opening on Thursday evening, and since I’m writing this piece, I decide to go. I’m not sure how Thursday became the de facto day for art openings, but for those who attend them regularly, the effect of having openings on Thursdays creates a sense of an extended weekend. While galleries are sprinkled throughout the city, there are a few neighborhoods where they cluster. As a result, gallery hopping on a Thursday night can become a thing even if one doesn’t plan on it. One can simply be pulled by the sight of another gallery opening across the street. Similar to the 

 of an open-air market that forms on the weekends, 

the art opening has a social characteristic that emerges from the spatial and temporal rhythms that dictate when and where these events should occur

As I approach the gallery, I’m not required to show membership or purchase a ticket; access is public. The public gallery creates a veneer of democratization of art compared to the private showings that occurred at the royal academies. The exclusion of certain painters from these prestigious institutions led to the establishment of public galleries. Yet, behind each gallery is an aristocratic structure: the free laboring intern, the underpaid gallerina, the commission-based sales rep, the authoritarian director, and the noble financier. Each gallery is its own fiefdom, a market where one can find artisans and merchants. Just like the aristocrats that threw parties to appease and impress the masses, the gallery’s public art opening with its free wine, wealthy patrons, and starving artists creates 

an environment conducive to an aristocratic embodiment

Stepping into the gallery, I find myself enveloped by a white cube. Like the spatial and temporal conformity, the interior of the gallery is an embodiment of homogenization. True to the aristocratic ethos, conformity to tradition and customs finds expression throughout the art opening. Perhaps the white cube was initiated with the intention of eliminating anything that could distract viewers from the art. Stripped of context, each artwork is forced to stand on its own. Though in reality, each work stands against the context of the gallery’s white walls. Viewed together, the two reveal an alliance between the gallery and artist. Seemingly obvious, this 

alliance reveals itself as the fundamental social relation in the art world

alliance as a social relation is the embodiment of the aristocracy

With my attention on the alliance as a fundamental social relation, I begin to look around for the artist. When I spot her, I first notice the age discrepancy between her and those she’s talking to. They seem to be twenty years older than her. My friend tells me the man owns the gallery and represents another artist he knows. I wonder about the alliance and exchange of material and symbolic value between both parties. While the alliance can result in financial gain, I think about the symbolic aspect of the alliance. Certainly, the alliance must at the very least maintain one’s reputation and ideally improve it. Forming an alliance with a prestigious gallery 

. From the gallery’s perspective, perhaps one evaluates potential allies with an 

, focusing on the artist's lineage and existing alliances by running through questions like: Do they have an MFA from Yale? Do they fall into a particular race or gender? Are their parents billionaires?

Since the Impressionists were kept out of the official Salon by the French Académie des Beaux-Arts, art history seems to be demarcated by militaristic victories. Though not always successful, the emergence of a new movement can appear as a rupture in the social order of the art world. The emergence of new movements like Impressionism, Dada, Abstract Expressionism, and Pop Art appeared as declarations of war on the previous generation. Or perhaps movements are more analogous to gladiators in the coliseum, with spectators cheering for their favorite. As the spectacle comes to an end, alliances are reconfigured.

But behind every war is the writer. As I finish my wine, I notice Jerry Saltz talking to someone and wonder if he’s going to write about the opening. Like priests interpreting the word of God, the critic’s opinion is taken by many as some sign of authority. An endorsement by a famous critic can give credibility to a new movement. Cited by sales reps, how the artist’s work was featured in Art Forum last month in order to inflate the value of the work. We see that not only must the people in the art world form alliances, but the alliance between art and criticism has led to the ascension of both fields.

As we’re leaving, I begin to think of the art as royalty, something to be looked at but never touched. Something that has its picture taken while it gets paraded around behind plexiglass. Something that is recorded in history books, unlike ordinary people, until someone like Gavrilo Princip lets his intrusive thoughts win. Staring at the nonsensical exhibition text, I decide to give the critics something to write about.

The Art Opening

While hiking in Japan, I came across a shrine dedicated to Okuchi-no-Makami, a deity revered for protecting travelers. Using Google to translate a placard, I learned that the deification of the wolf known as Okuchi-no-Makami occurred after a prince named Yamato Takeru was saved while lost in the woods by a white wolf that guided him to safety. Looking around the shrine grounds, I noticed others praying and making offerings to Okuchi-no-Makami. Unfamiliar with the Shinto religion, I stood back and watched. As a spectator, I found myself feeling a bit disconnected from history, nature, and myself.

Waiting at the gate to board my flight to Japan, I find myself scrolling on autopilot through Instagram. Unlike the people in Japan that I’ll get to know, the thought of offerings and prayers doesn’t cross my mind as I prepare to travel. With a short attention span, I look up from my phone. The couple in front of me looks like digital nomads, the kind of people who probably meditate and microdose mushrooms to become better versions of themselves. I wonder if traveling is more of a spiritual experience for them or if, like mindfulness and psychedelics, it has been disenchanted by our cultural amnesia. Over the loudspeaker, a worker announces it’s time to begin boarding.

A feeling of excitement dissipates when I realize its not my groups turn to board yet. How one gets assigned to a group isn’t quite clear. This lack of clarity permeates the entire experience of flying. Mediated by a series of interfaces, the inner workings of the flight remain obscure to the passengers. Standing at the back of a mile-long line, I feel like a car stuck in traffic. Seemingly banal, the line serves as a form of order and control, shaping the experience of flying. The slow movement of the line is disrupted by an authorization checkpoint, similar to the transportation of cargo, where each passenger must be accounted for. Transformed into cargo, the passengers on a plane are lent to countries for their economic potential. In 2022, global tourism generated $7.7 trillion. As I scan my boarding pass, I realize how many forms I had to fill out to get here. A chain of forms as far as the mind can recall: the form to buy the ticket, the form to create an account on JetBlue’s website, a form to apply for the credit card I used, a form to apply to the job that pays me, a form to apply to the college that I attended, ad infinitum. As I’m handed back my boarding pass, 

I feel the road to paradise is through a bureaucracy

Struck by the diversity of people on my flight, I think of the plane as 

an affective force capable of bringing together a heterogeneous set of people

. A set of individuals with different intentions and backgrounds are simultaneously transformed into passengers. The hundreds of alarm clocks that were set, the hundreds of cabs that were taken, were all affected by the flight. The few stragglers who barely make it on time reveal the contingency of the group. The chain of events that allow or prevent someone from making the flight draws my attention to the concept of control and how central it is to our way of life.

Looking around the plane, it doesn’t seem like many people, except those in first class, are incredibly comfortable. On the plane, there’s always a sense of class consciousness that arises. One can feel themselves becoming Robespierre, staring at the decadence in first class. One day, I checked to see how much it would cost to upgrade to first class. The unbelievable amount shocked me into opting for an aisle seat in economy. In my bag is a copy of Fernand Braudel’s book The Wheels of Commerce. Braudel explains how early open-air markets that have been around for thousands of years spread over time into all areas of society. I was shocked to read that in Moscow, during winter, people organized markets on a frozen river. I wonder how shocked they would be to learn that 

today, we find markets miles high, traveling through the stratosphere at hundreds of miles per hour

The pilot begins speaking to us over the loudspeaker. His voice is deep, and he sounds confident as he tells us about the weather as if he had control over it. His disembodied voice, emanating from above, like God or something, creates 

a sense of traveling as a spiritual journey

a highly developed piece of human technology. The pilot’s body has been transformed into an instrument for a specific purpose

. The plane, as an affective force, transformed the pilot into an instrument. We can imagine him as a little boy watching his mother staring googly-eyed at a captain. With an anxious attachment style, the future pilot thinks, “What does that captain have that I don’t have?” His desire for his mother’s undivided attention catapults him toward becoming a machine capable of controlling this 400,000-pound plane. Years later, after speaking to us over the loudspeaker, he dims the lights as if he were God. The purple lights that shine softly from above the overhead bins look beautiful. Staring at them like they’re a celestial lightshow, I think about our faceless father and the idea that in the beginning was the word, and the word was God.

As we get ready for takeoff, we can hear the engines running. I crack open the window cover and stare at the fan blades. I remember learning that jet engines are made of titanium and nickel alloys, which can withstand extreme temperatures, and that a single engine can produce enough thrust to lift 10-15 large semi-trucks off the ground. Mined, transported, and refined, the plane is seen as an achievement of human ingenuity; the power of science and engineering. 

Yet the plane was derived from nature, a force more powerful and fundamental than science

. As it begins to rain, I don’t find myself praying for a safe flight; I assume our faceless God and 

the invisible system undergirding this experience have deemed the weather conditions probabilistically suitable

. A vague faith in statistics assuages any anxiety. 

Secular data replaces religious narratives

As we take off, the engines begin burning fuel. The fossil fuels reveal 

the symbiotic relationship that we have with an event that took place 65 million years ago. The plane’s entanglement with time makes it a strange object

. An event that happened millions of years ago makes traveling at an inhuman speed possible. 

The plane, as an object, is one of many that constitute our inhuman world

. Far from being angels, passengers take on an embryonic form. 

 will culminate with their birth into a new world.

Stuck in my tiny, inhuman seat, surrounded by a hundred embryos on drugs and alcohol, I select a movie to watch. I start watching Napoleon starring Joaquin Phoenix and Vanessa Kirby. When Napoleon heard his wife was cheating on him while he was in Egypt, it took him 1.5 months to return home. Today, that would be a five-hour flight. As I fall into the movie, I forget about the bureaucratic system undergirding the flight. I forget about the quasi-religious experience for the backpackers sitting by me. And I forget about the scientific limitations that are always present but only noticed when nature reveals itself untamable force. 

Covered up by distractions, interfaces, technology, and habits, the plane, like so many objects, is an opaque mystery that can be felt but evades understanding

Suddenly, the plane begins to shake. The pilot turns on the fasten seatbelt sign. It gets worse. All of a sudden, I find myself thinking about the possibility of dying, about my family, my partner, and I realize how much I still want to live. The human as a conqueror of the world becomes much smaller at 30,000 feet. The turbulence reminds us of our fragility and the limits of our ability to control nature. 

While the plane can be opaque, it seems to also have the ability to make clear that which was hidden to us

With only 30 minutes left until we land, the pilot announces we will begin our descent. The hundreds of embryos begin moving and kicking as they get ready to be born into a new world. As immigration forms are passed out, the bureaucracy that lingers underneath the surface rears its head. I talk to my neighbor for the first time when he asks to borrow my pen. The plane, as an affective force, gets every embryo to bring their seats up, close their tables, and fill out forms. As we touch down, I feel a sense of existential anxiety dissipate. It seems to exist only above ground, and I can be certain it will be there next time I fly. Without it, 

I begin to forget about the existential condition and fall back into a state of normalcy

Waiting to exit the plane, we sit staring at our phones. After hours of being on airplane mode, there is a moment of reconnecting with the people in our lives back home. The plane is like a retreat in a way—a brief moment away from the network that follows us around more or less permanently. While the plane used to be able to separate us from our life back home, the cell phone has reduced the plane’s transformative power. 

Perhaps the phone’s presence deflates the experience of the plane as a bridge to another world

As we walk in a single file line towards the exit, we find our faceless God in human form. People in front of me are saying thank you as they exit, but all I can do is stare at the clipboard in his hands full of forms. 

The Post-Humanist Sitting in First Class

In ancient Greece, the gymnasium was a space for the development of one’s body, mind, and soul. For Socrates, the development of one aspect and the neglect of the others would result in corporeal forms short of ideal. Speaking about the effects of only developing one’s body, Socrates said a person will become hard and brutal. And for the philosopher that neglects their body only to develop their intellect they will turn soft. In order to develop an ideal citizen, there would need to be a place dedicated to their development. For Socrates, this institution was the gymnasium. Today, far from what Socrates had in mind, gyms have become devoted to the development of a body divorced from the mind. Go down the street to a local gym, and you won’t find debates taking place; unless they happen to be about who had the equipment first. No longer a space for philosophers, the gym has become devoted to the development of bodies. While today’s gym might seem Cartesian because it lacks equipment for the development of one’s intellect, 

 reveals a development of a mind, albeit one that belongs to a body that has become hard and brutal.

As I approach the gym, I notice the name which has become widely recognized. Large, capitalized, bold, white letters, printed on a plain black background, connotes a sense of seriousness that has become a key aspect of the gym’s brand. 

Branding, which has early connotations with cattle, reveals the quick identification of something with its aesthetic form. Today’s notion of being self-branded reveals the masochistic tendency to create, maintain, and grow one’s aesthetic form.

 As I enter the building, I notice everyone working out. Clanking metal and the dozens of spinning treadmill belts create a soundscape evocative of a factory. As I walk towards the locker room, passing by everyone, I wonder what their motivations are and the sacrifices they’ve had to make. Each one becoming a different version of themselves. Walking down the hall, I see a bright red branding iron spiraling towards me. Struck by it, my flesh melts and the image of the gym as a tool for self-branding is seared into my mind.

Changing in the locker room, I feel some eyes avoiding contact with my body while others encounter it. The gym as a private-public space can feel like a stage -- 

. But where did this choreography come from? In the 20th century, the gym reemerged and took two interesting directions. First, by the YMCA, which promoted the gym as a place for the growth of mind, body, and spirit. Secondly, by Jack LaLanne, who founded The Gold Gym in California, near Hollywood in the late 1950s. Tracing the choreography of bodies back to its origins near Hollywood, we find the organizing power of the spectacle too close to be a mere coincidence. As I leave the locker room, I notice everyone wearing AirPods. The music in the gym conceals the silence that's present. 

Not speaking, not listening, just looking

, the gym takes on the feeling of a Hollywood movie set.

Through repetition difference is produced

Out in the main room, as I'm exercising, I find myself engaged in a series of repetitions. Between sets, I imagine two men in ancient Greece wrestling while others throw javelins in the background. While each javelin thrown is a form of repetition, the exercises today are 

. Although it might feel like one isn’t making progress in the gym, there comes a point where one starts to feel a bit stronger or lighter. And eventually, one starts to see that difference. The gym, through its focus on external changes, reveals 

the gym can appear to aggrandize a static form of being, but for those inside, the gym is more about the dynamic process of becoming

As a place for the transformation of the self, 

the gym can be conceived, in Deleuzian terms, as a singularity. The intensity of the gym's singularity, as Socrates alluded to, can transform one’s entire existence

. The gym can alter one's daily schedule, diet, sleep, health, friends, routine, attention, and desires. But the image of the gym is associated with a certain type of body that lends itself to an ontology of being. 

The gym as a singularity shifts our attention from the body to one’s life. It extends itself beyond the physical location

As I leave the gym, I notice it following me

. I see it in my food, my schedule, and my decisions. Looking around, I notice it following other people too. The facade of each gym takes on a slightly different appearance. I watch as someone at the bus stop does ten reps of Instagram on their phone. Each rep slowly transforming their life. 

The world reveals itself as a multitude of objects that connect with the body and, through becoming entangled, transform it. The gym, as a transformative life machine, can be extended to all objects we encounter.

The Gym

Standing in an aisle, I crouch down so that the shelves and people around me block the security cameras monitoring us. The 'see something, say something' messaging pushed by tough on crime campaigns is rendered ineffective in today’s 

. Looking at the iPad kid sitting in the shopping cart next to me and his dad comparing prices on Amazon, I feel shielded by their devices. 

As I’m crouched down I become undetectable. 

, creating an opportunity for me to move the products on the shelf into the opening of my bag. 

This opening, like all openings, is short-lived and emerges when a system’s limits have been exceeded

. A power failure, an obscured camera, or a distracted worker create openings that are necessary for stealing. 

As my arm moves the products into my bag, it opens up the possibility of moving towards the exit without detection. 

Stealing is a series of openings and closings that make possible undetectable movement

Exiting the store, the subject becomes a thief. This 

 positions the thief in direct opposition to the 

, who is inherently incapable of committing a crime. Taken to their limits, both the thief and sovereign are outside the law, and 

both identities are established by the act of stealing

As systems are becoming elastic, limits are becoming unreachable

. As a result, openings necessary for the creation of a sovereign life are becoming scarce.

Stealing

More thoughts

The Art Opening

The Post-Humanist Sitting in First Class

The Gym