If you’re walking down the street like a true New Yorker (in other words: avoiding contact with anyone or anything at all costs), then you would probably breeze right past Galleria Esperienza without noticing it, and what a mistake that would be. The gallery lies behind a Lower East Side storefront, windows entirely blacked out with fabric, barren, save for a pink neon sign of the word “Play.” Even upon entry, it seems as if it’s “just” another art gallery with nothing unusual about it; there are black and white photographs of New York City street scenes by Saam Aghevli lining the walls and a nook filled with cozy floor cushions. Some folks would certainly brush the experience off at first glance within these circumstances, but those who choose to dive deeper are rewarded greatly.

Galleria Esperienza is created by Roll the Bones Theatre Company, an experiential theatre company conceived by former Sleep No More artists Taylor Myers and Rosalie Lowe. The show offers a menu of five different mini-immersive theatre experiences, each accompanied by a handful of vague adjectives and “tasting notes.” These descriptors were essentially meaningless (and, frankly, seemed a bit pretentious) when I first arrived. But as I made my way through the different experiences, I found myself returning to the menu in reflection. I was almost comforted by the piece of paper in front of me — the feelings and visions the menu listed were in alignment with my thoughts and emotions. This was such a lovely point of validation. The micro-encounters are all very different, but also somehow very cohesive (more on this below). Participants would do just as well with a “snack” of one or two experiences as they would with ordering the prix fixe (which has all the experiences included).

I find myself lucky enough to receive a curated journey from the creators, taking me through each experience over the course of about an hour. After skimming the menu, I was whisked away to the first moment. My guide leads me to an area past the check-in desk. We enter an area cloaked by black fabric which is behind where I originally assumed the venue ended. He pulls back the curtain and a small library is revealed, the fabric creating abstract partitions to separate time and space from that of the real world. Inside is a table scattered with books in all states of repair and sat next to it, a man (perhaps the librarian, I think). I ponder this scene for a moment but soon realize it doesn’t matter who he is intended to be at all.

He instructs me to choose a poem. I do, and he fetches the appropriate book.

He reads it aloud.

“Let’s have another.” he prompts.

I choose The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, an old favorite.

He reads it aloud, same as the first.

The cynic in me wonders, “What’s the point of this? I could read poetry at home,” but I quell the thought and keep my mind open.

Then it washes over me — the magnificence of another human being doing nothing but reading poetry to you. It’s intimate but not invasive, compelling but without urgency. It’s generous, a gift from one person to another. I wish he would ask me to pick one more, but, of course, everything must come to an end. Before I leave, he hands me a poem, as something to remember our time together.

I proceed to be shepherded to each bite-sized experience — ranging from a surface level look into lives that aren’t mine, to a bit of organized chaos, to a moment of deep serenity, and an artisanal cocktail accompanied by a bartender with a penchant for profound conversation.

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I won’t go into too much detail as the revelation of each unique space was the most enchanting element of the event, but there are two performances I’d like to highlight, the first being “The Game Room,” which was by far my favorite part of the evening. In this piece, I pull back the fabric curtain and step into the quirky office of a woman (Rebekah Morin) to whom I’ve apparently applied to be employed by. She’s an absolute firecracker, speaking a mile a minute and bopping around the room. She instructs me to fill out the job application form, which I do, but I am interrupted shortly after writing my name and the date by her sudden need to measure my legs. “All finished? Wonderful!” she chirps as she snatches the form away and assesses my work (which was “pitiful,” but to be fair, I didn’t stand a chance).

“Alright, then Brian, it’s time to get to the test.”

Brian?

My name is “Brian,” obviously.

I am then led through a series of ridiculous tasks ranging from contributing to a blacklight finger painting while blindfolded to performing my best “James Bond” impression with a mouth full of whipped cream (or vegan whipped dessert alternative). After nearly failing to finish, I complete the last of the challenges with just a moment to spare. Seconds later, I find myself outside the space with a congratulatory certificate in my hand which already had my name printed on it, Brian.

The other menu item I’d like to mention is “The Bar,” which takes place in a tiny bar hidden behind the magic fabric walls in the front of the gallery. I am greeted by a bartender (Jeff Prewitt) who mixes me a personalized artisanal cocktail. “Are you lucky enough to still have both of your parents?” he asks. Anticipating another scripted and distinctly structured experience, I answer honestly. We continue to speak for some time, all the while the bartender inquisitively prompting profound and even taboo topics of conversation. By the time we surpassed a discussion of capitalism and had moved onto plans for the impending apocalypse, I hadn’t realized how much time had passed. I had fully bought in and trusted the experience. When my guide came to check in on me, I realized I had been at the bar much longer than I had anticipated. (In fact, I was late for a meeting that evening.) But I didn’t mind. I had completely let go of time and indulged in the art of conversation. This, too, was a gift. I can’t recall a moment in recent memory when I had let time get away from me, much less because I was intensely engaged in musings on the creation of humankind and all of our fallacies.

What Roll the Bones Theatre Company has mastered in this exhibit is the art of facilitating experience not for the sake of creating atmosphere or in service of a narrative, but experience for experience’s sake. They’ve done this without the pressure of presenting a product, and in the hopes of connection, growth, and catharsis for those lucky enough to find them. Each item on Galleria Esperienza’s menu is an offering of something you aren’t usually entitled to, which is what makes them so special. The generosity and selflessness of someone washing your feet isn’t about the physicality of the action itself, but rather the idea of where it sits in context of society. I think juxtaposing these experiences against the hustle and bustle of NYC in particular is striking. Being offered a moment of silliness and playfulness after a day of shuffling from meeting to meeting was extraordinary. The thoughtfulness from which the gallery was created is evident in every aspect; the design, structure, environment, and content all work together to support the facilitation of each item on the menu. In conjunction with a talented cast, with a particularly electric performance by Rebekah Morin, I felt entirely taken care of and vulnerable, but in a way that was simply open instead of nervous or fearful.

The structure of Galleria Esperienza feels similar to the micro-theatre festivals common in Latin America. Allowing participants to take what they want and leave what they don’t (although there isn’t much worth leaving in this series of pieces) opens up the power dynamic, an aspect that is often troublesome to so much of contemporary immersive and participatory theatre. Immersive work comes from a desire to explore and engage, but in order to keep everyone safe there must be substantial structure and vigilant, visible enforcement of said structure. It’s often very clear who has the power in an immersive and participatory room, and neglecting to acknowledge this in the creation of a piece can lead to unintentional imbalances. Roll the Bones surpasses this dilemma entirely by putting the power in participants’ hands first, and then subtly continues to hand over the mic from time to time in each experience as well. Hierarchy definitely still exists in this structure, but the playing field is a bit more level and the power of consent is highlighted from the start. The successful crafting of this structural dynamic allows for the experience to truly be about the experience. I trusted the performer-facilitators and felt safe and sure in what I was doing during each encounter. Because of this, I could receive each experience at full capacity. And the fact that the “bites” are so well designed and executed is just the icing on the cake. I so thoroughly enjoyed my time at the gallery and left with both my heart and hands full that I found myself returning to my favorite moments even on the train ride home.

Thematically, there isn’t a singular thread tying the experiences of Galleria Esperienza together, but it seems to me that each one seeks to generously and selflessly give the participant something: joy, comfort, peace, attention. But only so long as they’re willing. As an experiential goal, I find this admirable and was pleased to see it really come through in the work being done at Galleria Esperienza. If that wasn’t enough, participants also receive a number of physical tokens to take home with them, which is one of my favorite immersive practices. Galleria Esperienza is one of the few immersive theatre productions that is both making big promises and keeping them.

Roll the Bones has managed to capture the same kind of magic that I long for in immersive and find so sporadically. The experiences at Galleria Esperienza hold the same intimate and touching quality of moments like brushing Alice’s hair or painting the roses red in Then She Fell. The blending of immersive, participatory, and relational aspects in these moments is seamless and that is exactly what makes them exceptional; you’re not just being surrounded by something or participating in a task, you’re also affecting the work just by being present. This is integral as many productions fail to create a need for the audience to be there, like a version of Romeo and Juliet I reviewed earlier this year which was intended to be “immersive” but ended up being a “theatre in the surround” style piece. Of course, we, as the audience, are always there to watch, listen, and witness. The word itself comes from the Latin “audentia,” meaning to “hear,” but simply observing isn’t enough to make a piece immersive.

Finding the difference between merely spectating and deeply experiencing is the key piece in being successful at immersive work. With Galleria Esperienza, Roll the Bones has accomplished this beautifully.

Galleria Esperienza continues through September 15. Advanced reservations are required for the prix fixe but not required for a la carte ordering.

Prices range from $5–25 for individual experiences; the prix fixe is $40–60.

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