After visiting the Fiona Banner exhibition, I feel exposed to new things. Although I may not have chosen to go to this sort of exhibition off my own back, I found it extremely inspiring.
My eyes saw two planes, that admittedly were indescribably brilliant and phenomenally designed, and although this plane, designed, not for aesthetics but for function, my “arty” side turned the scene into something entirely original, most likely, not the key intention of the designer.
I snapped a picture at the Sea Harrier, an illustrious piece of machinery used for military power, and the angle of the shot made me quiver. This image intimidates me greatly and stirs a chilling anxiety within. At first glance, it is a brilliantly designed plane, but after a swift double take, that the image so obviously demands, I see a life-like figure towering over me, as if to terribly threaten me. I feel vulnerable by the prospect of the figure falling on me, crushing me with its great strength. It seems to communicate a sort of “DON’T MESS” message!
I see two symmetrical eyes, two symmetrical ears and two symmetrical arms, all perfectly in place, holding up a glass ceiling, ready to attack, arousing the prospect of a fallen-in roof and endless shards of glass. It is nothing short of a defiant threat.
This portrayal of the Harrier is really beyond compare but the tail of the plane, in real life, became the head of a monster in my mind. The plane that was so perfectly designed had only one objective. It was out to kill. And kill me I thought it might. Not with it’s tail but with its “head”. Although the designer created a “killer” plane and I perceived something else, the strength of the design is so prominent, because either way, the plane is lethal.
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