![]() ![]() Less sinister, obviously, but still insatiably curious to see what was on the next foot of space unexplored. 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. I thought the metaphor, and idea behind it was clever. I took more photos of a darkened pot of zippers than any other piece in the museum. He can pull off poetry while still in truck form. The mixed genre use of transformers and poetry did cause me to rethink my own Optimus Prime from childhood. Seth Green of Robot Chicken would collapse in apoplectic joy at the stockpile of action figures. Piles, and piles, and piles of vintage toys and collectables. A framed cash register acts as a plaque of the previous function of the building.īeyond the register, the streetside portion of the entrance has more toys than I've ever seen. A falling tower of cut-out cardboard buildings creates an archway just beyond the unused store counter. Many of the works are so large, they would pass as installations. 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. ![]() Something is established about the experience in Elsewhere. There's a musty smell that seeps into your nose and clothes, and gives an olfactory sensation similar to visiting ancient cathedrals. Everything from toys, to doll clothes, to miscellaneous junk litters the labyrinth of extensive creative dialogue.Įvery inch of the workspace is packed. 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. Far from dubious, it was a comedic and welcoming jar from the orderly antique shop nearby. Drapes, pillows, and badly painted mannequins filled the front glass. The one we stopped at looked like a department store had imploded in the front window. I would want my camera.Īfter walking down the "main street," whatever street it really was, she kept peering in dilapidated store windows looking for something she said was entertaining. She wanted to go somewhere that was a surprise. 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. Or so I thought.Īs we got out of the car in the parking lot, we walked 20 feet away before she suggested I bring my camera. The area is quaint, but a little small, and not offering so many attractions to warrant an entire afternoon. My girlfriend recently suggested a walk downtown in Greensboro, NC. ![]()
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