The vague nature of the space is particularly refreshing in New York.  Or confusing.  Things are so product-driven here.  You walk around, and you can pretty quickly tell what’s being sold somewhere, what the bottom line is.  To wander into an ambiguous space like this is sort of a special thing. 

There’s a script.  There’s a script we walk into a store with, which is that you’re a consumer and you have a choice.  You can buy it or not buy it.  In an art space there’s another script, which is you walk in and contemplate something you’ll probably never be able to acquire and feel slightly alienated by. 

In some way maybe we’re slightly tricking people.  They come in thinking they know how to operate or how to carry themselves, and then we’re like, ‘Tricked you, there’s nothing for sale.’  But then maybe they’re open to another kind of encounter.  The store script is more accessible to more people, perhaps.  This is our assumption, anyway.  As opposed to the gallery script, where it can be unclear how one is supposed to be interacting with the space.  Or a sense that there are protocols you might not be fluent in.  The store is like, OK, everyone has to go to a store.  We know how to do this.  So we try to lure people in and then interrupt the script, basically.

Has there been a lot of engagement from people just walking in?

Oh yeah.  We can’t get any work done!  But engagement is the work.  Yeah, it’s great.  So many stories.  It’s kind of incredible the people the space is a magnet for.  Folks that are more old-timers notice immediately when something is out of wack.  People who have lived here for 20, 30, 40, 50, sometimes 60 years, come and really study and try to figure out what’s going on.  And then it’s a pause, and the pause is the moment that some kind of encounter can really have room to happen.  

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