Adrienne Moumin Picturexhibit

I will always remember the delicious smell of fresh cement on a bracingly cold day in Chelsea.

West 23rd Street, in 2007 or 2008, and the HL23 was under construction. I didn’t know right then that I’d get to photograph part of that process from a bird’s eye perspective.

But that’s not really what this story is about at all. At least not entirely.

Because right behind the unending construction and the architectural curiosities, the art galleries with their hushed auras and polished cement floors, and “private” signs imprinted on smoked glass doors, stand you and me, somewhere near the edge of the periphery of the center of the action.

So, ultimately, it is a story of excitement and discovery, beckoning dreams, hope and disillusionment, and, finally, returning home with oneself at the end of the evening. It is the photo-story of my wanderings in Chelsea over the ten years from 2001-2011, condensed into the time frame of a single day.

This story is dedicated to me and to you, and to all of the artists dreaming of making it in a place like this, one of the most aloof of the arts districts to ever come down the pike of art-vending history.

Project Notes:

I have shot hundreds of frames of film over duration of this project. All images were shot on 120 black and white film, which I hand-process. Prior to August 2006, I was using the 35mm film format.

When I began this project in the early 2000's, I felt a similar sense of disappointment over the impenetrable nature of the commercial gallery market.
Obstacles blocked my way. I could not become part of the scene, or the success.
Sometimes I would just walk the streets, with the overwhelming sensation of being completely alone in the midst of other art-world denizens.
I think this describes it pretty well.
Jack Pierson @ Cheim & Read, 2006
Sometimes I feel invisible. Everyone doing their own thang, no time for more than a cursory glance at anyone else!
Max Streicher's "Quartet" at Ricco/Maresca, 2004
We all want to be noticed, even if only for a moment.
Maybe if I took off all my clothes, I’d get some attention?!
Oliver Herring: Ideas for Action, Muelensteen Gallery, 2010
The view through the window grille in this gallery building speaks to the loneliness and separation of those who don’t belong.
But, let us remember, why did we come here in the first place?
To be inspired by the art. To experience the joy of virtuosity.
Sculpture by Kathy Ruttenberg at Gallery Henoch, 2006
To come face to face with ourselves and our likeness.
Looking at Cindy Sherman's "Untitled #476" at
Metro Pictures, 2008
And to ponder how that self appears to others.
"Coo" by Tony Oursler at Metro Pictures, 2003
And also to witness their creative process firsthand.
Zoe Strauss at Bruce Silverstein Gallery, 2008
And sometimes even to make a connection with one of the artists.
Filip Noterdaeme, Founder and Director, HOMU, 2010
The galleries are a world unto themselves. Even when you think you’re alone in a space, you may not be.
David Zwirner Gallery, 2006
Some of these temples of rarified commerce even have security guards. Always a turnoff, and a challenge to me to pull out my big noisy camera and grab a clandestine shot!
Dennis Hopper at Tony Shafrazi, 2009
Every so often, I need to take a recharge break from all of that art world "civilization."
One of my favorite pastimes is to climb a bunch of stairs for rooftop access, which often affords amazing panoramas.
Although it’s not as easy as it used to be, more and more of them are locked over the years.
This shot was actually taken through the window of one of my favorite galleries. They moved to a windowless space a few years later.
Sometimes I chance upon a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. The IAC Building by Frank Gehry, under construction, 2006
And can revisit it over the course of time. 2008
There is a particular building’s rooftop which itself has some amazing structures of its own. One of the 2 water towers
And its shadow on the neighboring building
And a phenomenal
windowed penthouse,
seen here occupied in 2006,
and vacant in 2010
2004. One of my favorite spots is a tiny section of the High Line, visible from a gallery building hallway window.
2009
2010
The former space of White Box Gallery, 525 W. 26th, over several years. One of the longest renovations I’ve ever witnessed. White Box Gallery Fundraiser, October 2005. They were serving water in plastic hip flask bottles which looked like vodka.
October 2008, recently vacated. The previous image was taken while standing on the riser at the upper right.
June 2010. A man was single-handedly breaking up the concrete floor with a sledgehammer.
Tar paper laid for new flooring. The last few times after that, all the windows were covered with paper. In 2015, this space became a swanky arty Starbucks.
The sheer visual poetry of the place gives me chills sometimes. There’s a buzz in the air that’s palpable.
The lobby of 150 Eleventh Avenue
And as the day winds down, there’s an expectant hush on the streets and in the galleries.
Sean Kelly Gallery
As the afternoon begins to give way to the evening…
…and the Sun begins to set in the West…
…it’s time to hit the opening receptions and see your friends! (Since you can’t see much of the art then anyway.)
And to pose for the camera, if you are someone who "matters."
Howard Read and Jack Pierson
Opening reception: Jack Pierson: Abstracts – Cheim & Read, October 8, 2009
People seem to get into the most remarkable conversations.
And sometimes they become very serious. (Because as we all know, art is a very serious business.)
Or very funny.
And sometimes they continue long into the night.
Peter Reginato and John Schupf at Reginato’s “Polychrome” post-opening reception party, March 2011
For many years, some of us have been going to Pepe Giallo on 10th Ave. for some amazing pasta. Just the thing for capping off the evening.
Or for those with slightly deeper pockets, there’s the Empire Diner.
One of my most memorable post-reception experiences added an edge of danger to the end of the day. I was sitting on a loading dock on 27th St., enjoying the gorgeous evening, and absorbed in the experience of photographing the Starrett-Lehigh Building from a new angle. I momentarily looked away from the viewfinder, to find an enormous UPS truck slowly and silently backing into the spot where my legs hung down from the platform. With only inches to spare, I grabbed my gear and jumped away in the nick of time. A fitting ending to an exciting day!