Zoe Friedman's Sublunary appears at the diminutive MG Gallery in Oakland's Temescal neighborhood, a gallery known as much for its off-the-wall premiere parties as its inspired shows. The premiere event for Sublunary was equal parts East Bay hipsterdom and Union Square polish. For $10, attendees were given an "endless" cup of beer; access to a wine tasting (with wines paired to the art); free admission to a shadow puppet show centered around an ancient Malaysian myth; and the chance to play charades, with participants acting out the clues from behind a transparent sheet covering a garage door. All in all, a pretty killer value.

The show itself is very well-suited to the gallery's 180 square feet. The first thing I noticed when entering the space of Friedman's multimedia installation Sublunary was the feeling of the room closing in amid a barrage of tactile, aural and visual sensations. And that's fitting, because Sublunary is an artistic exploration of what would happen if the lunar orbit of the moon were broken and it began to approach the Earth.

Once inside, the viewers are immersed in near-darkness, albeit for a tiny, rotating light emitting from the ceiling of the gallery. As the light moved around the room, I suddenly realized my transposition to a natural world of sorts. Forests, mountains and waves shot up around me, each on separate panels surrounding the space like funhouse mirrors. In another room is a stop-motion video that smartly exhibits how such a lunar disruption could affect the time-space continuum.

Within the panels on the walls are drawings of various scenes, resembling a storyboard broken down into its component parts. From guns to estranged lovers, these fragments of time attach realism to an otherwise fantastic world.

What the show--and gallery--does best is force each viewer to take part in the disruption. While circling the room, waiting for the beam of light to cross my path and allow a momentary chance to study the surroundings, I couldn't help but notice the other people in these close quarters: their arms or legs accidently brushing against mine, the warmth of their breath, their exclamations of approval or confusion as the images were illuminated. The entire experience was shrouded in an otherworldly sixth sense, where I could always feel the gaze of others, even while mine was entirely absorbed on the natural scenes at hand.

Sublunary makes the moon seem both important and frightening. Fair enough; after all, it regulates life, casting guiding light for animals and people alike while keeping time. At the same time, the gravitational pull of the moon has driven people to kill, oceans to rise, and fires to burn. Friedman makes this lunar theory tangible, real and conceivable. Her panels have texture and smell; they sway ever-so-slightly in the air currents of the gallery. It's almost as if, with the moon moving closer to the earth, I was able to see--and feel--in an entirely different manner.

After waiting for the light to shine in my direction long enough to survey the entire room, I experienced a satisfactory sense of conclusion. As I exited the tiny gallery into the streets of Oakland, everything, at least for a split second, looked different.

Sublunary is on view at MG Gallery through April 19th.