We all learned in school long ago that through two points only one straight line can be drawn. Alongside it, endless other lines wander and squirm. These can be sketched, imagined, or doodled, but the straight line needs none of those. It is an absolute, requiring no tangibility–only two points.
And what does the point itself require? Nothing, plain and simple. Just a place to be, and not even that in some ways. It has no length, no width, no height, bears no shape or measurement. It lacks body, full stop. The first Euclidean definition, therefore, is negative. You can identify where it is but have almost nothing to add about the point itself. We can only state what it is not.
There’s not much benefit to be had from such a point. Not much benefit from a straight line whose only quality is that is constitutes the shortest route from one absent to another. However, in reality these points may carry heft and volume. In fact, they serve as points of origin, destination, stations, homes. And reality is not Euclidean in nature. Lines do not run straight.
Let us review, as an example, the map. Better, consider a navigation app. It presents us with various possible routes to a destination. Several lines twisting their way to a single point, and none of them straight. Short routes and long routes, coiling. Paths that lengthen the interim span.
In her solo exhibition Morning Noon Evening, Efrat Klipshtein meticulously examines the meanderings of a love story. She deconstructs it and presents the cracks that hold it together.