As we got out of the car in the parking lot, we walked 20 feet away before she suggested I bring my camera. It was that sort of suggestion that isn't just a curious reminder that I had left the 10 pound bag in the car on a sweltering southern, summer afternoon. It belied secret knowledge. She wanted to go somewhere that was a surprise. I would want my camera.
After walking down the "main street," whatever street it really was, she kept peering in dilapidated store windows looking for something she said was entertaining. A building that looked peculiar. The one we stopped at looked like a department store had imploded in the front window. Drapes, pillows, and badly painted mannequins filled the front glass. Far from dubious, it was a comedic and welcoming jar from the orderly antique shop nearby.
We had arrived at Elsewhere, the art consortium run by professional resident artists who have turned an old thrift store into a fully dynamic art piece based on their various backgrounds and fashions. Everything from toys, to doll clothes, to miscellaneous junk litters the labyrinth of extensive creative dialogue.
Every inch of the workspace is packed. There's a musty smell that seeps into your nose and clothes, and gives an olfactory sensation similar to visiting ancient cathedrals. Something is established about the experience in Elsewhere. As I walked around taking photos (they didn't even ask for a press pass,) white noise and light jazz played throughout from an art piece situated in the middle. Many of the works are so large, they would pass as installations. A falling tower of cut-out cardboard buildings creates an archway just beyond the unused store counter. A framed cash register acts as a plaque of the previous function of the building.
Beyond the register, the streetside portion of the entrance has more toys than I've ever seen. Piles, and piles, and piles of vintage toys and collectables. Seth Green of Robot Chicken would collapse in apoplectic joy at the stockpile of action figures. The mixed genre use of transformers and poetry did cause me to rethink my own Optimus Prime from childhood. Yeah, he's that badass. He can pull off poetry while still in truck form.
I took more photos of a darkened pot of zippers than any other piece in the museum. I thought the metaphor, and idea behind it was clever. The charm of art pieces, not for sale, on store shelves lining the walls made me feel I was in Borgin and Burkes on Diagon Alley. Less sinister, obviously, but still insatiably curious to see what was on the next foot of space unexplored. No hands of glory or vanishing cabinets, but more california raisin figures than you can count.
In the very rear is a kitchen where the artists sit and simmer over coffee and eggs one of them prepared in the small space. It's hard to find anything about this place pretentious, since the entire nature of the interior revolves around creative expression. They actively create and have examples of works, and live among it. You know what you're getting the second you walk through the door: a full fledged sensory excursion.
On the first story are two full fronts of the museum. The second story is a 14-room boarding style residence for the artists. The third story is a warehouse storing more trinkets and documents for both use, and inspiration. Elsewhere is free to visit, and supported through donations.
If interested in seeing it yourself, and you should be, go to http://www.elsewhereelsewhere.org/ for directions.
