Photo by Antenna on Unsplash

Hello, and Welcome to Our New Gallery. It’s a Nightmare.

Devon Henry
Apr 17 · 3 min read

Hi, please come in. Welcome to our Art Space which is probably named something like “The Munchausen Art Federation” or simply “The Thurm”. We don’t like the words “gallery” or “museum” or “condemned former Payless Shoe Source not fit for human occupation” as we like to think of this as more of an art experience than anything.

And, oh boy, are you in for an experience!

We’ve tailored this space specifically to lift you out of the mundanities of the day-to-day world and as such, we’ve elected to place the only entrance on the busiest boulevard in your city, surrounded by streets with permit-only parking. Admission is free, however upon your arrival you will be asked to participate in a brief performance piece titled, “Insisting You Reserved Your Free Tickets While an Art Student with an iPad Looks at You Like You’re Lying,” which is a commentary on modern gatekeeping culture.

Once inside, you are welcome to peruse the space in whichever order you see fit, but we highly suggest visiting our permanent collections located on the first floor to the right of the entrance. There you’ll find the collected works of Cindy Sherman’s cousin, Sherm Sherman, who transforms himself into unlicensed J. R. R. Tolkien characters through the masterful use of drugstore makeup, prosthetics and what we sincerely hope are custom merkins.

To the left of the gallery you’ll find a room of $10,000-a-piece Subzero fridges filled with rotting meat. We think it’s a statement on income inequality but honestly, it’s been so long that at this point we’re afraid to ask.

Not sure of where to go next? Simply ask one of our disaffected museum staff with asymmetrical mullets: Trydn, Lyonne or Voss. Voss is the one in the all-beige sweatsuit and those $800 Balenciaga sneakers Jeff Goldblum bought as a joke. Trydn is the one who makes self-care memes and sponsored content about indie vibrator brands with minimalist packaging on Instagram. They will collectively, not at all unlike the Weird Sisters of Macbeth, point you in the direction of our one functional elevator that has no air conditioning and seems to have absorbed roughly 30 years of farts.

On the second floor, you’ll find our Art Lounge and Curated Cafeteria, which is a great place to stop and rest if you’re hungry, tired or inexplicably enraged in a way that is impossible to articulate. Here you can enjoy a $10 bottle of Topo Chico and a salad that is a bed of chard and a single cherry tomato. It’s $40. While you eat, please turn your attention to the far wall of the Art Lounge to our prized video art installation “Lena Dunham as JT Leroy Reading Apologies from Lena Dunham’s Notes App”.

Ready to leave? Looking for a souvenir to remember an afternoon so confounding you’ll swear you merely glimpsed it in the throes of a Robitussin-fueled fever dream? Take a jaunt through our gift store on the way out! We have everything an art-lover could want: $7 pencils, children’s books about Frida Kahlo that completely ignore if not actively downplay her politics, sexuality and disabilities, coffee table compendiums of penis Polaroids taken in Berlin nightclubs in 1986, adult coloring books and a jewelry case with a single ring made out of concrete.

Thank you so much for sharing this experience with us today. We sincerely hope that you will join us next month for “Tone Deaf”, a one-night-only performance art piece where a comedian who moved to a gentrified neighborhood in LA from Scottsdale, Arizona and a subversive international artist with little-to-no grasp of America’s long-simmering racial and economic inequalities compete dueling-pianos-style to see who can yell the dumbest sentence the loudest.


Devon Henry

Written by

Writer, Nerd Queen, T-Rex Impersonator, Amateur Viking, Mostly Harmless