Nashville Tiny Gallery!

Nashville’s Best Hole-In-The-Wall Art Gallery

An encounter with the Nashville Tiny Gallery

When we first hear about a new band, television show, book, or movie, it’s usually through a friend or an advertisement, some sort of commercial, or an events listing. But then there are some new things that we discover, exciting new things that come to us shrouded in mystery. The unknown song that was added to a mixtape as the tape ran out, the amazing comedian you came across on a late-night cable special whose name you didn’t catch, the opening band you’ve never heard of who completely blows away the headlining act. This way- this part random chance, part whispers and rumors and little overheard snippets of information, wrapped in a bow of intrigue, is the way that I found out about the Nashville Tiny Gallery.

The first time I had heard a mention of the Nashville Tiny Gallery, I didn’t realize it was a real thing. The way it was being discussed, I thought it was one of those conversations you have with a friend where one of you begins with, “Wouldn’t it be cool if somebody...Blah, blah, blah.” One of those ideas that you think somebody should do. Sometime in the past, somebody looked at a missing brick in the wall of a coffee shop, a tiny cave of just a few cubic inches, and thought it would be cool to hide something in there. It started with a note, then someone else tucked in a drawing, then a tiny painting from someone else. The idea eventually flashed across someone’s mind, “Wouldn’t it be cool if somebody build a tiny art gallery, and hid it inside that little hole in the brick?”

I don’t know why we always think somebody else should do all of these things we imagine, but luckily for us, Nashville artist Ben Griffith went beyond just talking and daydreaming, and constructed his own miniature art gallery, exactly the size of a missing brick, and hid it outside where the public can view it 24 hours a day. Complete with tiny lights that are operated on a timer, the exhibit is accessible to anyone who is willing to decipher the clues of its location.

I had been wanting to hunt down the Tiny Gallery to see it for myself, but I never wound up in the right part of town with enough time to spare for the adventure. Then one day in late June, after a hectic morning at work, I decided to take a wide detour around the city on the way home, planning to seek out the elusive prize. I pulled into the

parking lot of the Richland Branch Library, where I originally believed the gallery to be hidden, and set off on the mission. Waves of heat from the sun met with a wall of reflected heat from the concrete, and blasted me full in the face as I stepped out of the car. This wasn’t going to be a leisurely stroll, this was going to be a swift tactical mission, locating the target, observing briefly, and retreating to the air-conditioned environment as quickly as possible. I had a foggy recollection of the first clue, something to do with a statue of a mythological animal who loves to read. I ran around the brick building and adjacent park, looking for a cement creature of the Where the Wild Things Are ilk. After two laps, with eyes stinging from sweat and shoelaces full of thistle burrs, I decided it was time to reassess the clues. I opened the link on my iPhone, then tried a few other searches to see if I could find spoilers, fully intending to cheat and skip the scavenger hunt chain of clues all together. Unfortunately those who have made the pilgrimage before me have been ethical and virtuous, and I was going to have to work out the Tiny Gallery’s location by myself.

I was at the proper starting point. I circled the library. I didn’t see a statue of a book-loving beast. And I was hot. Very hot. I was on the brink of retreating defeatedly and going home a sweaty, exhausted, and shamed failure. I looked at the photo on my phone one last time. The diminutive artistic display was closely cropped, with a small border of deep red brick just visible on each side. I looked around the park, the surrounding buildings, and across the street, hoping to find a match for that particular brick color. Then I spotted it. Diagonally across the street, almost a block away from where I was standing at that moment, I spotted it. Not just the building, not just the dark red brick wall, but the actual gallery itself. Like a familiar face in a crowd, the Nashville Tiny Gallery seemed to glow and beckon to me.

I crossed the street, panting, dripping, and wild-eyed, and approached the little monument. The gallery was positioned low on the wall, with a raised garden directly in front. To see inside the enclosure, I had to stoop awkwardly, bending at both the neck and the lower back, with both feet planted firmly in the black gardening soil. I suppose the best way to describe this optimal viewing posture would be to imagine the way you might have to bend if you were trying to eat a taco while walking through a low tunnel while wearing swimming flippers. But there it was- My nosetip was inches away from the mythical Nashville Tiny Gallery! It was like the moment in The Borrowers or The Indian in the Cupboard movie where the characters actually see the other-worldly miniature creatures for the first time. It was real!

The Nashville Tiny Gallery is a collaboration of eight or so local artists, each contributing one or two minuscule sculptures, paintings, or other works. The gallery is such a fascinating and delightful idea that a second Tiny Gallery with new artists has already sprouted, and the Nashville Tiny Gallery website even has open-source plans for others to create their own Tiny Galleries in other cities all over the world. And it all started with a single missing brick!

Craning my neck at weird angles, I try to view each installation and give them the individual attention that they deserve. Some of the pieces have a familiarity to them, one of the small clay creatures is a classic Elliot Wade Mini Critter, and a brightly painted rainbow-colored watercolor on the back wall is a Ben Griffith hallmark. I look up the names of the other artists on my phone, and try to match the names to the works. I’m still learning about the local art scene, so my test score is probably less-than- passing, but I’m still absorbing each individual creation. I admire the variety and individual flavor of each of the works. Although there were specific restrictions and parameters on submitted pieces, the artists were still able to be as unique and individualized as a group of artists could be. Whereas some of us might see the diminutive size of a half-inch square of canvas or tile as an excuse to be lazy and give an equally small measure of effort equal to the small size of the area, the artists on this project took the opposite path, pouring their personal expression and passion into their respective creations and squeezing out every last drop of originality and artistic flair.

As I continue to peer at the plaster, ceramic, and paper creations, I begin to hear tiny voices. Quiet at first, but steadily growing louder. Just as I start to think I’ve slipped too far into this Lilliputian world, I realize that the voices I’m hearing is a gaggle of schoolchildren marching down the sidewalk on a field trip, presumably to the park across the street. Suddenly I’m transported back to reality and realize that I’m the weird guy standing in someone’s flowers, sweaty and disheveled, intensely staring at a brick wall. It was at this moment that I decided that I had taken in my full measure of the Tiny Gallery experience, and it was time to return to the regular-sized world. Oh, and also air-conditioning. Sweet, sweet air-conditioning.

Anyone interested in seeking out the original Nashville Tiny Gallery, or the newer Gallery 2, can find the first of the series of clues at NashvilleTinyGallery.com. Each clue leads to another clue hidden inside or around a surrounding building. For those more adventurous or logically inclined than myself, the hunt becomes a fun and frolicking tour of the local businesses and unique establishments, culminating in the close-up encounter with the gallery itself.