This project, Xenia, is an experimental format for hosting people and art together. The central purpose is to stimulate the kinds of encounters that artists have with their own work: encounters that takes place over prolonged spans of time, simultaneous with one's daily life, and in which judgment/interpretation is not called upon like a test in front of each new thing, but instead arrives when and where it is appropriate.

The other purpose, for us involved, is to give and take pleasure in the resources available; Resource is a funny word in its precision and its prejudice--as if the things that matter in life exist in ready numerical bundles. This motivation is neither ground-breaking nor otherwise noteworthy except for its ability to make the passage of time more meaningful, and Time, we are imagining, is a resource that we could all take more pleasure in.

As a way of talking about how and why this project came to be I would first like to share a quote from Norman Bryson's Looking at the Overlooked: Four Essays on Still Life Painting that I read some time ago and found to be particularly fitting today:

'For when the Greeks became more luxurious…they began to provide dining-rooms, chambers, and stores of provisions for their guests from abroad, and on the first day they would invite them to dinner, sending them on the next chickens, eggs, vegetables, fruits, and other country produce. This is why artists call pictures representing things sent to guests 'xenia'.' (Vitruvius)

The figs, honey, the basket of cherries, the milk and cheeses in Xenia I are foods for the guests to prepare for themselves, as part of the ceremony of bringing the stranger (xenos) into the oikos or household. This particular form of hospitality is precise about the boundaries that demarcate social distance: the stranger is welcomed and absorbed into the household through the gift of food, yet at the same time the gift creates a sort of satellite household within the house, so that strangers eat their own food separately prepared, in a separate space of their own. A certain emotional generosity surrounds the provisions sent by the host. They are raw, not cooked, and the freedom given to prepare the foodstuffs separately marks a respect for the stranger's needs, for sustenance but also for autonomy and a measure of independent existence within the oikos; this is the difference between such provisions and, say, a banquet.

What strikes me in re-reading this is how well this description fits the project at hand, with artwork in the place of raw foodstuffs. But also I am interested in the readymade kit of boundaries that we put in place, often unquestioningly, when it comes to hosting art. The above tradition, recorded by Vitruvius, and its history are persuasive in asking the question--what boundaries are helpful and/or unhelpful in making art available to strangers: physical boundaries, temporal boundaries, social boundaries, monetary ones, etc.

In re-measuring some of the boundaries the hope is to create more meaningful experiences with art. Sometimes this happens best with your back to it, or with your own work in front of you and the art in the background. Coffee, Sculpture, Work, Lunch, Phone Call, Live Feed, Painting, Bathroom, Painting, Headphones, Nap, etc.

In summation what we are providing is, in Bryson's words, a 'satellite household' whose main form of hospitality is art, and 'a measure of independent existence' in relationship to it. If you are interested in being an overnight guest please visit the Airbnb page (https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/5307747).

If you are in Seattle and are interested in spending a day, discussing this project, or have other ideas for engaging with the space I would love to hear from you.

Take Care,

Rob