Review of Plank the Walk project space.
-part one-
_______________________

I was having a sea vacation. Like really detoxing from, -not just my phone and social media- but from media 
art mostly. The stuff just pops up everywhere and I can’t really classify when something is still media art 
and when something is not. Not that I usually care about distinctions like that, it puts me in this 
pretentious headspace. You know, wondering about how virtual reality is more real than, like whatever.. the 
other reality. And therefore Isn’t everything media art? Needless to say, useless thoughts. So detox it is! 
No phone, no connection, no vehicles, no one knowing where I am, no sense of direction. Only the salt water 
of the sea I’m floating on. No thoughts, head empty. After a few days of floating -halfway through my 
vacation- a ship suddenly dropped anchor next to me. A captain waved at me and asked me to come aboard. I was 
visibly annoyed not really because of the pirate ship that disturbed my sea vacation, but by the large black 
vinyl letters that were glued onto on to the ship. This was not just a pirate ship, this was ‘Plank the 
Walk project space’.

Of course, I had to come aboard, the captain must have recognised me. And I’d rather not have the entire 
art world know I had a vacation, (no one gossips like curators) so I played along. Did my best to be kind.

“Woa” the captain said. “Did your ship capsize?...or were you having a sea vacation”, he smirked.
“NO” I said, “haha, imagine… No my ship capsized obviously…”

“Well I’m glad I get to meet you, my mates and I have been reading your texts in Kielhalers.” He 
pointed at a big stack of Kielhaler zines on the deck.

I was impressed since we printed a ton but never sold a single issue. So he must have picked up these from 
our bins. I admire that kind of dedication and grassroots distribution.
“It’s always good to meet a reader.” I lied.

“Welcome aboard Plank the Walk! I’m glad we picked you up. I’m the Captain-Curator aboard this ship.”

“I read a piece about ‘PtheW’ a while back in some magazine. I remember the author was very impressed 
with your mission, and the way you carry out what you stand for.” My clothes were dripping and my feet were 
standing in a growing puddle.

The Captain-Curator laughed and said “there’s always folk that heard about this ship once and come here 
with talk of how a floating gallery space is a metaphor for carrying a message, you know? They think it is 
somehow something inherently important like it will change the world. They think exhibiting in the middle of 
this binary between sea and air automatically produces important work.”

“The two genders right?”.

“Yes, sea and air… It’s more of a spectrum really…”
“A critic once described the ‘liminal quality of our space’, as if what we do is somehow pushing 
through from one world into another.“
He shifted his weight, let his shoulders hang and put his hands in the air. “Well.. the truth is no one 
comes here, we’re not that accessible you know. It’s just the crew and me who see the work. And we 
luckily don't have to pick up castaways often.” he said. I smiled 
“For the stuff we do to really be changing the discourse, more people would have to come to PtheW”

“Well, what IS the stuff you have on show? can I see?”
“Of course, I’m happy to give you a tour.”

The captain showed me through the exhibition titled ‘Catch a fish by its tail, not by its lip’. The 
exhibition space was made in the cargo bay. The original wooden beams were visible in the first part of the 
space, the light was dim and a few shiny white plastic projectors were hanging from the ceiling and slowly 
moving with the ship's sway. Between the projectors were fishnets casting shadows on the projected video on 
the walls. The videos showed image slide shows of craftspeople making nets, the slide show clicked from one 
image to the other really quickly, making the stills almost look like a faltering animation. Because of this 
fast-paced rhythm, I at first didn't notice that the craftspeople were not using the nylon that is usually 
used for fishnets. As soon as the captain pointed out to me that they were hired by the artist to make nets 
out of sand and glue I could see how the craftspeople were skillfully glueing together every individual grain 
of sand, and weaving these strands into the finest nets I’d ever seen. 

“The artist wanted to hang the sand nets here between the beamers instead of the ones hanging here now, but 
as soon as the glue came in contact with the salt air the nets became too brittle and just fell apart… I 
think the nylon nets hanging here create a nice contrast with those seen in the video.” The captain said.

“Eh... Is the sand on the floor the original nets?” I asked. The captain looked at my shoes with slight 
disgust. I was still dripping water all over the floor and the sand became wet and the glue had started to 
make it stick to my shoes. I had already left a trail of footsteps.

“yes, well what is left of it the captain said. Don’t worry about it though, you can take the sand that's 
glued to your shoes… consider it a souvenir.”
I said that I don’t usually take stuff from exhibitions, but I wasn’t keen on leaving my shoes here, so I 
accepted his offer.