I once built my own aeroplane. I built it to fly away from where I was. Where ever I was. It would bring me around the world and beyond. This and the next. It would bring me through all the landscapes the eye can touch. The mind can think of. Abstract ones and figurative ones and real ones and imaginative ones. Through ones I knew, I knew very well and others I had no idea what to expect. My plain would take me there. But it hadn’t been there itself. Or at least not as far as I knew. It’s wings where white like clouds behind which the sun hides and with it the rest of the universe. But we would go there.
The material I used to build my plain was art-history. Art-history is always a good material to start building with. You can basically turn it into anything. Even aeroplanes, with first class seats, free drinks and very cute flight attendants.