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musically, and it never quit; the plane never flew out of earshot. I walked out on the porch and looked up: it was Rahm in the black and gold biplane, looping all over the air. I had been wondering about his performance flight: Could it really 35 have been so beautiful? It was, for here it was again. The little plane twined all over the air like a vine. It trailed a line like a very long mathematical proof you could follow only so far, and then it lost you in its complexity. I saw Rahm flying high over the Douglas firs, and out over the water and back over farms. The air was a fluid, and Rahm was an eel. 40 It was as if Mozart could move his body through his notes, and you could walk out on the porch, look up, and see him in periwig and breeches, flying around in the sky. You could hear the music as he dove through it; it streamed after him like a contrail. I lost myself; standing on the firm porch I lost my direction and reeled. My 45 neck and spine rose and turned, so I followed the plane's line kinesthetically. In his open-cockpit black plane, Rahm demonstrated curved space. He slid down ramps of air, he vaulted and wheeled. He piled loops in heaps and praised height. He unrolled the scroll of the air, extended it, and bent it into Mobius strips;" he furled line in a thousand new ways, as if he were inventing a script and 50 writing it in one infinitely recurving utterance until I thought the bounds of beauty must break. From inside, the looping plane had sounded tinny, like a kazoo. Outside the buzz rose and fell to the Doppler effect as the plane looped near or away. Rahm cleaved the sky like a prow and tossed out time left and right in his wake. He 55 performed for forty minutes; then he headed the plane, as small as a wasp, back to the airport inland. Later I learned Rahm often practiced acrobatic flights over this shore. His idea was that if he lost control and was going to go down, he could ditch in the salt chuck, where no one else would get hurt. If I had not turned two barrel rolls in an airplane, I might have fancied Rahm felt 60 good up there, and playful. Maybe Jackson Pollock' felt a sort of playfulness, in addition to the artist's usual deliberate and intelligent care. In my limited experience, painting, unlike writing, pleases the senses while you do it, and more while you do it than after it is done. Drawing lines with an airplane, unfortunately, tortures the senses. Jet bomber pilots black out. I knew Rahm felt 65 as if his brain were bursting his eardrums, felt that if he let his jaws close as tight as centrifugal force pressed them, he would bite through his lungs. Rahm was deliberately turning himself into a figure. Sitting invisible that Continued kinesthetically-through the sensation of movement Mobius strips- a one-sided surface, formed by giving a half-twist to a narrow, rectangular strip of paper and then pasting its two ends together Jackson Pollock-(1912-195 rican abstract expressionist o invented a technique where images emerge haphazardly Page tha 2 as precdeceived designmusically, and it never quit; the plane never flew out of earshot. I walked out on the porch and looked up: it was Rahm in the black and gold biplane, looping all over the air. I had been wondering about his performance flight: Could it really 35 have been so beautiful? It was, for here it was again. The little plane twined all over the air like a vine. It trailed a line like a very long mathematical proof you could follow only so far, and then it lost you in its complexity. I saw Rahm flying high over the Douglas firs, and out over the water and back over farms. The air was a fluid, and Rahm was an eel. 40 It was as if Mozart could move his body through his notes, and you could walk out on the porch, look up, and see him in periwig and breeches, flying around in the sky. You could hear the music as he dove through it; it streamed after him like a contrail. I lost myself; standing on the firm porch I lost my direction and reeled. My 45 neck and spine rose and turned, so I followed the plane's line kinesthetically. In his open-cockpit black plane, Rahm demonstrated curved space. He slid down ramps of air, he vaulted and wheeled. He piled loops in heaps and praised height. He unrolled the scroll of the air, extended it, and bent it into Mobius strips;" he furled line in a thousand new ways, as if he were inventing a script and 50 writing it in one infinitely recurving utterance until I thought the bounds of beauty must break. From inside, the looping plane had sounded tinny, like a kazoo. Outside the buzz rose and fell to the Doppler effect as the plane looped near or away. Rahm cleaved the sky like a prow and tossed out time left and right in his wake. He 55 performed for forty minutes; then he headed the plane, as small as a wasp, back to the airport inland. Later I learned Rahm often practiced acrobatic flights over this shore. His idea was that if he lost control and was going to go down, he could ditch in the salt chuck, where no one else would get hurt. If I had not turned two barrel rolls in an airplane, I might have fancied Rahm felt 60 good up there, and playful. Maybe Jackson Pollock' felt a sort of playfulness, in addition to the artist's usual deliberate and intelligent care. In my limited experience, painting, unlike writing, pleases the senses while you do it, and more while you do it than after it is done. Drawing lines with an airplane, unfortunately, tortures the senses. Jet bomber pilots black out. I knew Rahm felt 65 as if his brain were bursting his eardrums, felt that if he let his jaws close as tight as centrifugal force pressed them, he would bite through his lungs. Rahm was deliberately turning himself into a figure. Sitting invisible that Continued kinesthetically-through the sensation of movement Mobius strips- a one-sided surface, formed by giving a half-twist to a narrow, rectangular strip of paper and then pasting its two ends together Jackson Pollock-(1912-195 rican abstract expressionist o invented a technique where images emerge haphazardly Page tha 2 as precdeceived design