123 Main St. is a consideration of the contrived nature of our own “comfort” – denaturalized from the domestic, objects that define our “homes” meld reality and
projection.

123 Main St. is a rumination on the precarious rental market of major cities: a reflection on the progressively degrading investment properties that enunciate the flimsiness of our existences for an ever-increasing cost.

123 Main St. is a reflection on the coldness of mass-produced design, reflecting and satirizing the sameness of our most intimate spaces.

123 Main St. is a meditation on the time Hunczak was harassed by a landlord for over two years, and then, when on his way to the hospital to treat a panic attack the night before a court date, got t-boned in his car.

123 Main St. is a testament to how much weird stuff airport security will let you put on a plane so long as you tell them it’s for “art.”

123 Main St. is an art show.