My brother taught me to fold paper planes in the back of church. While the preacher did his thing, we did ours. After church we would launch white sheets of papers from the porch of Gods flight station. The old white church stood atop a hill. There were at least 25 stairs and the porch stood at least 30 feet from the ground. The porch was the perfect height for launching paper planes into Kingdom Come and watching them loop then spiral from heaven and crash into a Earthly hell of dirt and rock. In flight, the imagination was in awe of a flat page that has become the symbol for our imagined flight to wherever we wanted go. Faith Temple was the name of our flight station on Sundays. Faithfully, we flew planes to different destinations every summer Sunday. We were our own pilots in charge of our own flight schedule to any destination.
The lofting of airplanes into the air is a freeing gesture, one that instantly provokes the smile of a child in a toy store with a hard earned allowance; a smile I still get to this day when lofting planes. The funny thing that’s cemented in my brain is learning the fold. Now, I believe there is a collection of knowledge in the lesson. A technique handed to me by my brother that we all remember into adulthood. I bet you can still fold your first paper jet plane and I bet the joy of flight is still the same.
This brings me to the works of Christopher Hutchinson and the idea of flight. Folding the same paper planes from his childhood memories he prepares us for a great voyage.
Not just any old trip from the porch of a church, but a massive movement of paper planes in formation, in charge of their own destiny and flight schedules. Simple yet beautiful arrangements of innocent paper planes that appear to the imagination like a fleet of stealth bombers ready for battle. I wonder where they are traveling so boldly? They have not a care or concern in the world for idle flights. Theirs is a serious mission. Could a paper airplane even be taken out its playful innocent context and if so how would it arrive at this conclusion? Like the folding of the paper plane itself, its quite simple to Hutch. MAKE THEM BLACK. — Michi Meko
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