Levels of Nuance: The Zillow Show
Video by: Cassandra Louttit, Eyewitness x DJ Lag remix by DJ Big Dumb Idiot
Levels of Nuance Real Estate is thrilled to present Emergency Group Show #2: The Zillow Show. Our unlicensed realtors have co-opted Zillow’s proprietary 3D home capture software to create a website-specific exhibition across 15 rooms. The show features a who’s who of the terminally online, such as: Ryan Trecartin, Joshua Citarella, Harris Rosenblum, Nick Vyssotsky, DJ Meisner, Maya Ben David, Tibor Dieters, Nuria, Mclalan, Lil Gerbs, Lucy Weaver & Gabrielle Stichweh, Mac Pierce, Logan Bruni, Kat Kitay, Paranoia State, Nicholas Sanchez, Kyle Mace, Sam Dybeck, The Doctor, ArtyP, Ryan Seffinger, Drew Dubs, Clancy Gates, Pedro Gossler, Jar Jar, Lauren Watmore, Boomer Scripps, Josh Humm and Cassandra Louttit.
For an afternoon, we briefly haunted the sleepy coordinates of Brownsboro, Texas. The Zillow corporate home office expressed their displeasure with our paean to the creative potential of real estate, with the listing lasting all of three hours before being cruelly taken from us. But the 3D tour survives, archived in its own digital architecture and on the Wayback Machine.
Entrance
Living Room
Stepping into the living room is truly like stepping into the present moment for the very first time in your life. This is where past and future meet to create one glorious and welcoming now. Joshua Citarella’s e-deologies arrive from the future, where speculative vexillology clicks into domestic myth. Ideo-ornament. Net-totem. Home-flag. Weaving into the future from the past, ephemera from the lives of previous tenants are lovingly preserved in Gabrielle Stichweh & Lucy Weaver’s Remnants of Previous Tenant, As Restored By Landlord. Completing the space, Boomer Scripps’s The Artist Is Not Present transforms absence into a lifestyle feature—two empty chairs and a pristine table, elegantly staged for quiet encounters that never quite occur. A performance in potential—too good to perform, too good to record. Perfect for open-concept living.
Garage
In the garage, network culture is made manifest: first as property, then as LARP. This garage already boasts features to inspire any LARPer: devirtualize your niche political ideology into IRL heraldry via Joshua Citarella’s e-deologies V (LBGTQIA-USSR), or harness arcane and fearsome knowledge with the runic Kingsmourne blade, the likes of which could only be crafted by Harris Rosenblum. Josh Humm’s Camouflage Painting adds a touch of tactical decor—its layered surfaces undermine notions of both exposure and concealment in whichever multihyphenate form of capitalism this may be. Speaking of arcane and dangerous knowledge: the internal combustion engine remains a miraculous—if not deadly—marriage of the primordial and the mathematical. Parking your car in this spacious garage and pondering Drew Dubs’ Vehicular Manslaughter will reveal the true ready-to-hand qualities of this seemingly everyday technology. Clancy Gates’ Going 100 brings the full meme-industrial spirit to bear, a visual mantra for accelerationist self-belief and burnout alike. If internal combustion engines aren’t pure American muscle enough for you, then try PARANOIA STATE’s ALL AMERICAN EXCEPTIONALISM (The Cult of Straight White Jesus) on for size. Ritualized violence and the deep tradition of WASP heresy—can I get a HELL YEAH? Bear with me here a sec, but do you see that? On the floor there? Anyway, let’s get on to the next room.
Denny’s®
Wow, ok. Sorry about the mess in the garage. We’ll definitely get that cleaned up. So this really is a fully functioning Denny’s® attached to the house. The previous owners had it installed—and fortunately it’s still in operation 24/7. If you’re more of a gourmand home-chef type, I’d love to show you the kitchen.
Kitchen
Seekers of The Perfect Kitchen™ look no further! No detail* has been spared in crafting the premier space from which to entertain all of your guests as they watch Lauren Watmore’s Dick Van Dyked in the living room. Not only will you be whipping up culinary delights in no time with all updated appliances, you will be delighting in the personal effects left by the previous owners. However, we would recommend that you refrain from moving DJ Meisner’s Relics of the NPCE (Vaccine Demonology) from the countertop. The sigils etched into this plate remain charged, and they must remain undisturbed until the completion of this lunar cycle.
On the brand-new fridge, Ryan Trecartin’s drawings (real) capture what home ownership is all about: inter-species friendships, tidal locking, nothingness, agathokakological children, and so forth. Just above them, we have Nuria’s drawing Me reading algo bueno—an intimate note of self-reflection—nestled amid the fridge magnets and residual chaos. Looking into the living room, Jar Jar’s Star Jar poster reframes the galactic franchise reboot as a fanfiction that literally nobody asked for. We are just loving the lunargnostic celestial domestick vibes of this kitchen!
*except the sink full of dishes and gas stove left on. Please excuse the mess. We’re so sorry. It’s not normally like this.
Zack’s Room
Let’s face it: constructing and finding meaning in today’s world can be difficult. Absent any real world opportunities for meaningful political involvement or sense of personal achievement, we often retreat into what we know best, and Zack’s Room is the perfect inner sanctum for just such a retreat. Here, Joshua Citarella’s e-deologies flags make a return appearance to grace the walls of this cozy abode—semiotic symptoms of an algorithmically-determined political imaginary. This room is also completely decked out with the exemplary battle station: Nick Vyssotsky’s DISPLAY OF COMMODITY ACCESSORIES, the detritus and tools of a life spent retreating into an infinite number of worlds to quest for connection, meaning, and adventure. Ryan Seffinger’s the electric lights get brighter and nothing comes beckons us into the hum of a different kind of glowing black box. Mclalan’s Roofhead watches over the room. She knows. Zack knows too. Oh yeah, that TV over there? We can’t seem to turn that off. We’ve unplugged it, but it keeps playing Pedro Gossler’s That summer when Criss Angel levitated on cable TV left a deep impression on me on a loop.
Hallway
Upstairs, the hallway reveals a hidden amenity rarely found in today’s market: Internet Mole by Logan Bruni. Living quietly inside the home’s ethernet cabling, this rarely-seen tenant manages your connection with a touch of personality—gathering the bits it likes, occasionally rerouting a signal or two just to keep things interesting.
Computer Room
Naturally, it would appear that the Internet Mole wants us to go into the computer room. Shall we? Now this is really the perfect room in the house for a home office. Ample natural light really lets you lock in on that special side hustle of yours. Or maybe it’s your full-time gig? The Doctor certainly made use of this for a full-time obsession. Cognitive mapping? Yeah, I think that’s what this is? I’ll ask someone and get back to you. Seems like fun! Hey what’s that on the desktop? Haha, ok well now. Yes, it would seem the previous tenants do have some idiosyncratic interests don’t they? For instance: yes, that PARANOIA STATE poster on the wall is similar to the one you saw outside. I absolutely adore the layered prints on glass next to it. The owners said they were made by a baker? I asked them more, but they said I’d need to do my own research. They said his name is Tibor Dieters, if you want to look into it for yourself, things that make you go hmmmmmm…… Personally, I like to think this is what the ancients wanted: cool air, perfect Wi-Fi, and loving grace in every square foot.
Bathroom
The bathroom’s been fully retiled in classic Delft Blue, though you’ll notice the traditional windmills have been updated to 5G towers. The work, from the series Pol/der (vriens), reimagines Dutch domestic tradition as fever dream: porcelain folklore delivered at the speed of the millimetre wave. Conspiracy, it turns out, makes a lovely motif—glazed and repeating, like myth itself. The sink comes pre-stocked with a small bag of methylene blue—just a little wellness tincture for the frequency-sensitive among us. But check it out: if you turn the sink on, the extractor fan in a bathroom in the Lower Countries that has an intrinsic link to your spirit will momentarily whirr louder!
Bedroom
Now let’s examine the master bedroom, shall we? It’s unfurnished but it still feels lived in, don’t you think?
Altar Room
No home is complete without an altar room, and this spacious sanctuary will do nicely for performing penance, venerating your collection of relics, or divining the spiritual conspiracy(ies) at the core of state power. In The Cancellation of Patricia Hearst, Sam Dybeck casts intentions to unite and activate objects between faith and paranoia. Drawing on the mythos of California as prime real estate for mind control experiments and astroturfed occultism, Dybeck’s work channels the strange, resonant harmonies between political theater and personal transformation. Mac Pierce’s Vein of an Angel teases out the auratic qualities of mil-spec components, uncovered in stolen documents and brought here for us to commune with. Let’s turn our attention now to one of the property’s more archaic amenities in Kyle Mace’s Anchorite Room. Visible through a window from the altar room, this cell was once intended for lifelong spiritual seclusion. Its sole occupant would have been enclosed here—alive, in quiet devotion—for the remainder of their days. Inside, bees have built honeycomb around fading portraits, their work undisturbed beside a cluster of burning candles. Wax gathers where faith once did, sealing the room in a living preservation of divine love.
wake up. go to sleep.
Lil Gerbs’ #minecraft (wake up, go to sleep) lingers in a cavernous hush just beyond the altar room. Built in Minecraft’s crystalline geometry, it drifts through its own hours—pink dawns, mauve twilights—whispering ‘wake up’ and ‘go to sleep’ into the stillness. The silence feels amplified here, as though the room itself is listening, suspended between devotion and dream.
Attic
The attic’s still unfinished, but she’s got potential. Plenty of headroom if you ever want to turn it into a third bedroom, or just let it breathe as a storage space. That reminds me: Maya Ben David’s Fiberglass Clown has taken a shine to it. She needed someplace dark and dank to keep her old art projects and the like; you know old drawings, loose insulation, beanie baby tags—stuff like that. If you’re a Morgellons sufferer like myself, she’s kind of like our patron saint. Shall we take a spin on the Wheel of Inflammation? It’s just a formality, and in no way affects your application’s eligibility. Anyway, the attic has great light in the mornings too, if you’re into that sort of thing.
Focus 27
It’s a well-known truism that death is merely physical. Our bodies are only ever provisional (necessary for traversing this realm). To explore further, we must transcend the coil itself and attune to altered states of consciousness, accessible only through particular sensory alignments. Fortunately, this home already comes equipped with a studio designed for precisely that. DJ Meisner underwent the Gateway Process during its installation, lining every surface with gold foil to mitigate EMI and invite a clear departure from the body. Here in Focus 27, consciousness reaches the edge of its own capacity—a way-station, not an endpoint—for rest, recovery, and quiet review before the next phase of life.
Collected Works
You’re gonna wanna join me for this last room. If you’re anything like the previous owners—and I think you just might be—you will absolutely adore non-Euclidean space. Thanks to Cassandra Louttit, the house has begun to generate this room on its own: every time you enter, it’s a little different. It’s less a room and more a living image of nuance, constantly reproducing itself through you, and me, and everyone else.
This space is a dream: a fully self-updating environment, pregnant with possibility—endlessly reconfigurable and rich. Think open-concept, but for the universe of technical images. Perfect for fully and permanently remote work, or total immersion into circulation and flow.
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