Inside an art gallery in Kansas City, a man with a child attached to a BabyBjörn is pedalling on an old bike that is connected to a contraption that shoots out confetti, much to the baby’s delight.
It’s the first work of art anybody would notice in the back of the gallery — a giant inflatable yurt made of tie-die bed sheets and inflated with blowers. It’s called a “tie-flatable.” Artist Megan Miller is inside picking up confetti off the floor.
“[I’m] showing people how to run the confetti blower and how to reposition the hands because they have velcro. You can make different gestures, nice things and rude things, whatever you're feeling,” Megan Miller said.
Mike and Megan Miller’s works of art are known for being interactive and fun. Almost everyone entering the gallery immediately smiles with curiosity. The smiles get bigger when they start playing with the pieces. Carlotta Evans helped install the show.
“I helped Mike and Megan put together the tie-flatable,” Evans said, “and hang up shelves, and how to put together glass shelves from the ceiling.
“I've worked with Mike in the past on other events or projects, and Megan, so when they tell me that they want this stir or cut or moved around, I usually just hop on, not overthinking it.”
General manager Erin Woodworth said watching Mike and Megan install the show meant long days, as well as potential hazards.
“They're here when we get here, and they're here later than we leave,” Woodworth said. “And every day you can see the progress that they've made.
“The hanging glass shelves with ceramics on them make me very nervous, but so far, so good. I probably just jinxed it, but like that guy right there now [is standing] very close. Luckily, Mike has quite a few replacement ceramics in the back, so if something happens, we have replacements, which is good.”
Though the shelves are still for the moment, many of the larger sculptures are kinetic and primed for play.
TJ Hanscum was gallivanting about First Friday and stopped to turn a crank.
“[I] have no idea what this thing is,” Hanscum said. “I'm twisting this like a little cog because I saw someone else doing it. So I think I can do it too, unless that was the artist. Then in that case, I guess I can't do it.
“It seems to be twisting some sort of long spring type thing, and it's making some weird little counterweight wobble; this piece of driftwood with all of these giant long antennas with seed things attached to the ends. It's like a wiggle machine. It's like a big, giant wiggling contraption.”
Hanscum moves to another work of Miller’s.
“What we have here is some sort of giant rock,” Hanscum said. “It's covered in lichen, and I'm moving it with a surprising degree of ease. It seems to be on springs, and there's a horizontal and a vertical hand grip to move this big, giant boulder.”
Artist Mike Miller tries to remember the title of the piece Hanscum is on.
“We as individuals are personally responsible for the earth's environment … which is very, very true,” Hanscum said.
“You grab that hand, and you're driving the Earth,” Mike said. “I didn't have that idea until after it was done.”
Next to that piece of Miller’s work is another one you can rotate yourself inside of. The person climbing aboard smiles, noticing the face-level rearview mirror, perfect for selfies.
“You can jump on it and turn the crank,” Mike said.
