The most insane artists are typically the most fascinating. Proof: one of the most famous artists of the 19th century, Vincent Van Gogh, cut off his own ear. Perhaps people are merely fascinated by the erratic behavior of outsider artists. Or perhaps outsider art allows for voyeurism among the general public – a glimpse into an unhealthy or deranged mind, a freedom from the rigors of everyday existence. And as much as we wouldn’t like to admit it, every one of us is at least a little bit insane, and outsider art appeals to us because it touches upon and acknowledges this insanity.

The closing lines of Alan Shapiro’s poem “Space Dog” appear on an otherwise black screen. They read, “the earnest dog eyes fixed on black space like a door the masters have walked through and will return from, surely. Surely they'll come to get me. Surely they didn't love me all that time for this.” Next there is footage of Laïka, inside of the Sputnik 2 capsule, enduring weightlessness. She looks nervous and extremely uncomfortable. She wears something similar to a space suit with an oversized helmet on her head. Additionally, around her neck is a small leash that is tied to one of the control panels, greatly restricting her ability to move. The narrator informs the audience that Laïka died merely hours into her space flight, in the process becoming the first living thing to orbit the Earth. The narrator explains that the Soviets knew that Laïka would not survive her voyage on Sputnik 2. Throughout this opening sequence, stills of Laïka in addition to the footage from the space flight will be shown.