THE FUTURE OF IRL ART SPACES IN A DIGITALLY DISTRACTED WORLD

There’s a kind of magic that happens when people gather in a space filled with intention, the kind you can’t replicate through a screen. In a time when attention spans are fractured by nonstop notifications and social media feeds, the idea of slowing down and engaging with art in real life feels almost… rebellious.

Recently, I hosted an artist mixer in my studio — just a handful of creatives, painting supplies, some wine, and space to just be.

No pressure to perform, no agenda to impress.

The energy in the room was electric in a quiet way.

People talked, painted, shared stories, and stayed longer than they planned. That night stuck with me and it reminded me just how necessary these kinds of spaces are.

Not just for art-making, but for community, reflection, and recharging.

As a multidisciplinary artist who's built a career in the digital space, I still find myself craving something tangible, something that doesn't disappear in 24 hours or rely on an algorithm to reach people. And I know I’m not the only one.

Why we still need physical spaces for art

There’s something sacred about stepping into a creative space.

The lighting. The quiet hum of people processing a piece in silence. The unspoken permission to feel instead of scroll.

IRL art spaces ground us, they invite presence, something the digital world actively fights against.

In-person spaces allow for multi-sensory experiences.

We don’t just see the work; we hear it, smell it, feel it.

Whether it’s the subtle smell of fresh paint, the shuffling of supplies, or the sound of artists talking shop in the corner,

none of that can be felt through pixels.

Over time, I feel like these spaces can also foster organic community. You’re not just consuming something; you’re participating. There’s a shared intimacy in physically showing up; it means something.

The digital fatigue is loud

We’re more “connected” than ever, but more of us are feeling emotionally depleted and creatively stuck.

Scrolling has replaced discovery.

Doomfeeds are interrupting daydreams.

It’s harder to be inspired when your attention is constantly being hijacked. We’ve replaced depth with dopamine. And as artists, and humans, that kind of fragmentation chips away at our ability to be truly present, with our work and with each other.

What art spaces need now: flexibility, fluidity, feeling

I am actively sharing my space because I understand what it's like to be without and I believe that the future of IRL art spaces isn’t about recreating the white cube, it’s about reimagining it.

Here’s what I believe the next generation of creative spaces could look like:

• Multifunctional spaces that operate like part gallery, part creative lab, part hangout. I always refer to what Madbury Club built because to me, that will forever be the blueprint on building a space that isn't just for creating but also sharing.

• Drop-in moments that don’t require RSVPs or exclusivity — just curiosity. For example, when I recently opened up my studio for people to come cowork for the day, you'd be surprised on how many times people expressed gratitude. Working or creating from home can be an isolating experience and I feel like that can change.

• Co-creation zones where guests can physically participate in the making process. I mention this because when we were children, creating was a "together thing" meaning someone was on your left and right. Without really knowing, these zones were buzzing with little tinkering minds, exploring and shaping what was in front of them.

Who’s leading the shift?

Some of the most exciting examples aren’t coming from institutions, they’re coming from artists. Artist-run spaces, studio showings, and community-centered pop-ups are doing what traditional spaces can’t: making art feel personal again.

What if the future looked like:

Creative YMCA's

Sliding-scale studios.

Monthly memberships for creative play.

Open studio artist installations that invite the public into the middle of the process, not just the polished result.

The kind of space where you could walk in empty and leave full.

If you’re craving this too…

You’re not alone.

This is your sign to seek it, build it, or support someone who is.

If you’ve ever felt more moved sitting in someone’s tiny apartment studio than at a massive commercial gallery... trust that.

The future of art doesn’t need to be bigger.

It just needs to be closer.