Dialogue in the Dark

On Sunday I attended the Dialogue in the Dark exhibition at the Seoul Arts Center. It's Thursday now, but I still find myself thinking about it. When I'm sitting in a cafe or a restaurant, at the risk of looking like a total idiot to the people around me, I close my eyes, inhale and try to recreate the experience in my mind.

After a brief orientation, during which a member of the museum staff showed us how to use a walking cane, we entered an unlit room and the door slid closed behind us. Together with about 7 other exhibition guests, Gavin, Hyungkyung and I were plunged into an all-encompassing darkness. There was no light at all. I couldn't see my hand in front of my face, or any other part of my body for that matter. Though I could hear other guests around me, they were were just as disembodied as myself. It's rare to experience such a complete and utter loss of sight. Even when we close our eyes, a few particles of light eventually find their way past our eyelids to our retina, forming an impression there. But in the pitch black, I could see absolutely nothing and I had the uncomfortable feeling that I'd become nothing more than bit of consciousness floating in outer space. This alternated with feelings of having been buried alive. I had to hold on to Gavin's hand to make sure that we still existed.

A voice in front of us addressed us in Korean. He asked us to introduce ourselves, and when he discovered that two of his guests were foreigners, one of whom could speak little Korean, he switched to English to reassure me. "Anna, don't worry. You are completely safe," he said. "Just follow the sound of my voice." He asked us to use our other senses to compensate for our lost sight, and drew our attentions to the sounds, smells and textures around us. I noticed that there was a cool breeze, the sound of running water and birds chirping. Leaves rustled nearby.

At first I was sure I couldn't last a full hour without my sense of sight. But our guide's voice and his calm descriptions of the surroundings was soothing, and as I concentrated on it, my fear gradually subsided.

"Are we at a market?"
"Yes. Can you tell what they are selling here?"
"Umm. Oh! These are onions!"
"Yes. Anything else?"
"These are melons. Or are they pumpkins?"
"They're pumpkins."

"Okay, now follow the wall for a few steps..."
"... Um... where IS the wall?"
"It's right in front of you."
"Oh!"

"What is this?"
"Touch it. What do you think it is?"
"I'm not sure. It's got metal... and leather..."
"It's a Harley Davidson."
"Oh! Right, it's a motorcycle!"
"What color do you think it is?"
"Umm... I don't know.... black?"

For the next hour, he led us through a few different simulated environments: a park, an intersection, a market and a cafe. There wasn't a particle of light anywhere, but I was sure our guide could somehow see. How else was he able to identify each of us by name, or reunite us with our friends when we got separated? And how was he able to redirect each guest when he or she mistakenly walked off in the wrong direction?

In the final room, a cafe, we each ordered drinks. I had a Lipton Ice Tea, Gavin had a Miller Lite and Hyungkyung had a rice drink. After we had paid (how does one know which bills are which in the dark??) and were sipping our beverages, our guide came up to Gavin and me to chat. It turned out that he had lived in New York for some time as well.

"Tell me, during the tour, did it occur to you that I was able to see?"
"Yes... but I thought maybe you have night-vision goggles or something..."
"Here, feel my face. Are there any goggles there?"
"...no..."

I guess I had assumed that our guide wasn't blind because he led us through the exhibit with such reassuring confidence. But it makes sense that a visually disabled person would be the most capable of guiding sighted people through the dark. It just had never occurred to me before. I went into the exhibit thinking I would come out with a new appreciation for the trials that the disabled must endure, but instead I came out feeling humbled by my own dull senses, wanting to do the tour again just to feel that heightened sense of awareness that comes when you close your eyes. It wasn't until I thought about it afterwards that I realized also how grateful I was to know that someone had approached us, Gavin and me, without any preformed notions based on our appearances. So this week, and hopefully for the future, I'm trusting my eyes a little less and my other senses a little more... I hope it affects my art and design in some tangible way...