The ancient Greeks believed birds to be messengers of the Gods. Conduits between Heaven and Earth, their flight patterns were perceived as omens and signs. The species’ ability to conquer the skies in a way humans had only touched upon remains astounding. To replicate flight requires audacity; but such audaciousness exists under limited conditions. Where hope is a religion and truth an invention; mythology, politics and science are the foundation. We have a knack for making ideas fit our desires.

Ross Redmon's Passenger Migration is a forward formation that advances the rules of evolution. Always looking ahead, the birds’ shifting patterns are magical and visceral. Evolution of the flock is what matters and they are not deterred. There is no Ovidian god to magically change our skin and save us from self-inflicted peril. Where humans forget the fiction of Metamorphoses, the avian species adheres more resolutely to their instinct-determined survival.

Collective fear stimulates the human herd, we fight facts with beliefs. Looking up at Redmon’s one hundred porcelain birds we see a united front. This species does not waste time dividing themselves. Our continued observation detects their patterns and shows us how we can navigate our own underlying humanitarian beliefs.

The relationship to what we hope for and believe versus what we see and know are unconsummated. There is opportunity to be had from this stagnant flock. When we take one away or send them to be installed elsewhere, they are given home. We must remember to do the same with our own flock.

The messages found in Passenger Migration are a metaphor steeped in reality. Are we a part of one migration keeping the flock together, or will we splinter ourselves with fear, desperate for a place to land?

Blair Schulman