The Touchables Hands-on in SPACE BY MAGGIE KNOWLES

Of all the senses, touch is my favorite. It is so powerful — it makes you fall asleep when a child plays with your hair; it gives a stomach full of sparklies when that cute barista brushes your hand; it gets you yelled at while patting a stranger’s fur coat — and we crave it, to touch and be touched. The current exhibit at SPACE, aptly called "Touch," proffers ample opportunity to grasp, stroke, tinker, twist, poke, twirl, scrunch, meddle, and prod the works of art. Single? You’ll love it.

Upon entering, notice the path of blue tape hoping to guide you through the exhibit. Feel free to go in the opposite direction — it’s like reading the last chapter of the Da Vinci Code first, it’s where all the really cool stuff happens.

The first work was "broken," as it were. The artist, Ling-Wen Tsai, invites one to sit in the window and watch a plant grow. After absorbing all the Zen needed, you fill out a guest book. Apparently, the window locale was too cold for poor little plant, because it had died and been whisked away to some remote rejuvenation spot. It was not a complete failure, because I was touched to think that flora had been harmed during the creation of this piece.

Moving on.

Make sure you read the instructions posted next to the artwork, because some you cannot touch. I found this out as I ran my hands over a stunning painting of a nude woman (apologies to artist Ian Factor) and was kindly asked to stop. But it is an incredible portrait. Factor layered hundreds of acrylics with his fingers to create this showstopper. Markings from his hands accentuate her breasts, hips, and neck, while her legs melt into the sheets. You can, however, touch his other work, but it is just a pencil sketch of a manly figure with breasts. Not seductive.

Note: There is an emergency exit door next. This is not part of the exhibit. Do not follow the directions and press lever to sound alarm.

Ahem.

Theresa Smith and Erin Frazier designed their piece Fear Factor style. Several earthenware jugs are stuffed with various objects and the viewer guesses what their finger is immersed in. There is nothing gross (well, my friend Jenn is convinced one is full of pubic hair), but you still get squeamish prodding about in dark little holes. Remember in third grade during Halloween when the teacher would peel grapes and tell the class they were eyeballs? It is kind of like that; the imagination carries you.

The next work asks you to contemplate your path in life by marking with a Sharpie (the official writing utensil of Yogis everywhere) where you saw/see yourself in the past, present, and future. I marked outside of the future box because I am not ready to be there yet. Many people left blotches in the past and tiny stardust specks in the future. No one can say we aren’t optimistic.

Note: Don’t touch anything in the bathroom.

By this point in the show, you are in a Children’s Museum for grownups and Catherine Anderson’s piece is the cherry on that proverbial sundae. Thank God I was with my equally "I have no shame" friend, because as we suited up as Anderson’s characters Egg and Simone, I hoped no one I knew walked by. I adjusted the straps on my flannel bathrobe and read with luster from the two-minute script as Jenn spun in a dress that could only look flattering on Sarah Jessica Parker. I don’t recall a theme exactly, except I was prompted to stuff newspaper in my bra and sing, "If I Only Had a Brain."

To help one cope with their newly acquired acting skills, the next piece, "Transcribe," calms the soul through poetry. The directions ask you to select a typed card from the holder and copy the words on a huge canvas. The Trivial Pursuit of Poetry. My card read sky, my wet hair flowing . . . Who knows what line will soon marry those lovely words, but in the end, I suspect it will closely resemble a huge canvass of those poetry magnets that were all the rage in the mid-’90s.

I was bummed that the masseuse had only turned up for the opening, but there is lovely music performed by pianist Dana Cunningham, David Merril’s message-handling machine, Malin Bengtsson’s "Transversable Mutation Series," and plenty of other works to get your hands around.

The last work of art in "Touch" is a large bar complete with wine, beer, and coffee. There were no directions or signs reading "Don’t Touch!," so we lifted our heads to the majesty of design and gazed in awe at the realistic selection of bottles and stemware. We stood in silence until someone asked if we wanted anything. Not an exhibit after all. We quickly exited into the cold with "If I Only Had a Brain" swinging through our heads, and the gallery worker wondering if we were, indeed, touched.

Maggie Knowles can be reached at margaretknowles@yahoo.com

"Touch," curated by Amy Stacey Curtis as part of the "Artists Curate Artists" series, shows at SPACE, in Portland, through Feb. 27. Call (207) 828-5600.