ALL STREET GALLERY is a community oriented gallery and multimedia art collective holding space for alternative exhibitions, experimental productions, and creative gatherings.

They have two locations:

77 East 3rd Street & 119 Hester Street




How did All Street come about? Tell us more about your name and what inspired the foundation of the project.

Our original name was actually “The All Street Journal,” and we started out as a low-distribution zine that lovingly satirized the New York arts and culture scene. We were in undergrad at the time, and a lot of our friends were getting internships in finance and banking—which, to us, seemed like a nightmare—so we imagined ourselves as the comedic opposition to The Wall Street Journal. We’d also all grown up in the city when Occupy Wall Street was gaining momentum, and I think that energy seeped into our subconscious as well. The initial motivation was simple: we didn’t want to end up in a corporate office job, so we decided to start our own venture focused on something we actually cared about: New York City.

How does being in NYC specifically shape your programming and the community you've built? And as the city has a saturated art scene, how do you carve out your niche while staying true to your ‘alternative’ mission?


Being in NYC has forced us to adapt and stay flexible. Since our work relies entirely on collaboration, we’ve had to accept that obstacles, both good and bad, are inevitable. One day, a leak might spring at our Hester Street gallery; another day, someone gets called into a last-minute freelance gig; or we might suddenly be invited to fill a slot at an art fair. It’s hard to live with that uncertainty, but we’ve learned to harness the chaos and trust the happy accidents, since those moments often lead to the most serendipitous opportunities. We work hard on every project we take on, but we also know that if something doesn’t go as planned, another opportunity will always appear—as long as we keep going.

At the same time, New York can be an incredibly competitive city, and there’s actually a shortage of spaces that nurture emerging artists or help them build a genuine local community. That gap is a big part of what motivates us to create a space where artists can experiment, show work, and feel supported without needing institutional validation first. We’re trying to make something sustainable in a city that often feels like it only rewards visibility and money.

While we like to think of ourselves as one of a kind, the art collective and “alternative space” model is nothing new. There’s no real way to distinguish ourselves except by grounding our work in our literal geography and lived experiences here in New York. Instead of looking outward to strategize how to stand out, we focus on what we naturally produce and trust that it’ll be enough. We also try to stay firm in our belief that what we can make or do together is stronger than anything we can do as individuals.



What do you look for when identifying emerging artists to work with? What makes someone a good fit?


Everyone in New York is good at something, which means countless talented artists aren’t getting the attention they deserve. Unfortunately, a lot of them have bought into the ridiculous idea that to be a “real artist,” you have to be an a**hole. For us, it’s simple: make good art, but more importantly, be a good person. Care about something. Be curious about community. Learn about what All Street stands for and, instead of trying to bend the gallery to your will, think about how your work and our mission can feed into each other.

We love working with artists whose practices include some element of social consciousness or social engagement, people who understand that art doesn’t exist in isolation and who think about the social, emotional, and physical labor behind their work. A lot of what drives All Street is recognition of care, community, and labor, not just as values in how we operate as a collective, but in the artwork we highlight as well.

To put it simply: we value artists with a DIY mentality who prioritize collaboration over competition. Beyond that, we’re open to artists of all mediums and backgrounds.

What gap in the art world were you trying to fill when you started this collective?

Fight pretentiousness. Save America. Make more jokes. The art world sucks and is insufferably self-serious. A painting isn’t going to end a war, nor will a sculpture solve climate change. But art can bring people together and form a community, and from the organization of like individuals, the real work begins. Although a single artwork can’t immediately prompt sweeping fundamental change, it can very effectively annoy, call attention to, and hold people and institutions accountable. Our aim is that of every art collective that’s probably ever existed: make art more accessible, center underrepresented narratives, and build genuine community. Unfortunately, as hard as we try, we still have to play by some of the same hypocritical conventions that dominate “fine art” to survive financially. But within our means, we try to stay as disruptive as possible.

What strategies do you use to make the gallery accessible to people who might feel intimidated by traditional art spaces?

I think it’s really simple: we just try to make people feel comfortable spending time in the gallery. Most galleries are sterile, designed to erase any trace of human context or warmth, supposedly to let visitors “focus on the art.” But nothing exists in a vacuum. Pretending otherwise erases the labor and humanity behind both the work and the space.

We think of All Street like making a home. We don’t want visitors to feel observed, judged, or out of place. So, we play music, provide checklists with prices, let people use our bathroom (even though they keep destroying it), write press releases in plain language, and use humor in our marketing. We also host community-oriented events that go beyond just looking at art, so people who may not feel comfortable just going to a gallery have a reason to come and experience our exhibitions.




How does working across different mediums influence the type of community you've built?

Working across mediums has led to some really unexpected collaborations, both within our collective and among artists who met through All Street. By placing all mediums on equal footing, we value creativity over the traditional hierarchies of fine art.

It also really helps with keeping projects grounded; oftentimes, artists who work in the same medium share similar reference points, which can create a kind of closed circuit between maker and audience. When different mediums intersect, new questions arise, and people really have to explain their decisions, so those conversations tend to yield the most interesting results. It’s basically the same reason diversity matters in a classroom: different perspectives enable more interesting and accessible conclusions to be drawn.

What role does collaboration play in your programming decisions?

Since All Street is a collective, we try to present and make decisions that represent all of us, so it’s a priority to take in the input of our team. There are also certain moral stances that are important for us to uphold, and regardless of potential financial gain or esteem, having partners helps keep our mission aligned with our beliefs.

That said, our process is pretty seamless because we’ve been working together for a long time and know each other’s strengths. Typically, different members lead different projects, exhibitions, or events, with the rest of the team jumping in to support based on interest and availability.



How do you navigate the intersection of digital and physical space in your work?

We were all raised with the internet and access to computers and smartphones, so responding to or utilizing developing tech has seeped into everything we do. However, with a physical home base of two storefront galleries, we prioritize in-person exhibitions and events. Yet, to make our in-person projects viable, we must maintain an online presence and figure out how to translate our projects and artistic practice into a digital realm. We definitely haven’t found a succinct formula, but we try to look at it as a constant experiment. For example, there are a couple of short film projects the collective has made that are in post-production. We also have a YouTube page where we’ll sporadically throw up a video we made the day before. Although technically the mediums are the same, our approach vastly differs based on how we think certain projects have the potential to be consumed.

Separately, we also host an online viewing room called /virtu.all on our website as a way to transcend our local community and honor artists working in digital mediums. While we deeply value our local community, we also want to acknowledge artists who may not be able to physically access it and audience members who want other ways of connecting with what we do.

It’s really easy to demonize technology’s role in art and challenge the legitimacy of browser-based art, but we think the onus is on artists to creatively and ethically harness tools instead of ignoring or being scared of them.

How do you see the role of spaces like yours evolving as the art world changes?

We think more galleries will move toward community-oriented models like ours rather than the hyper-commercial, sales-driven archetype that’s been repeated for decades. People are lonely, and art is an incredible way to get them out of their apartments and into spaces where they can connect.

As big galleries close and layoffs continue, new spaces like ours keep popping up, run by optimistic young artists eager to exhibit and platform their peers. The art world has long been dominated by the cult of celebrity, but collective ownership feels much more sustainable than the first-name-last-name galleries with armies of underpaid staff manufacturing prestige.

With social media, artists are already bypassing galleries to sell work directly, so galleries need to rethink their purpose. Instead of functioning as middlemen, they should focus on contributing to their neighborhoods and creating experiences for their communities. Most people don’t buy art as an investment; they buy it because they feel a personal connection. Creating a space that facilitates that connection isn’t just altruistic—it’s smart business.

Follow All St. Gallery 
@all.st.nyc