on view: march 22 - April 15, 2025
opening reception: Saturday, march 22, 5:30-8pm

apt 3B

ruby lindsey

An installation inspired by the films of Alfred Hitchcock, Roman Polanski, and others.

What happened in Apt 3B?
An evening of lively celebration abruptly ends in deathly silence and bewildering mystery.
Puzzled tenants share accounts of the night heard through thin walls.
Step into the scene, curious minds, of Apt 3B.

Dorothea, Apt 3A
It was around 8pm when I looked through my peephole to see old Mr. and Mrs. Broom walking down the hallway to 3B. The door opened and they stepped inside, the door closing behind them. Mrs. Broom is a nice lady. She was carrying a bottle of what looked like champagne and a plate of fancy looking hors d'oeuvres. Mr. Broom was following her smoking, as he always does. A few moments after they were inside an enthusiastic piano started playing, while drunk-sounding people had an even more enthusiastic sing-a-long. I liked a few of the songs they sang and was singing along myself. You know the one that goes, oh never mind. I only sing to myself… Anyway, around 10:30pm everything quieted down. All I could hear after that were some, I suppose you could call them hushed voices. Oh, and a glass smashed, I remember that. It’s possible the party went up to the roof for some fresh air. 3B has its own ladder to the roof. But I’d be surprised if Mr. and Mrs. Broom and many of the other guests could make it up that ladder. It’s pretty precarious and they’re pretty old. And I’ve never known them to be silent together, Mr. and Mrs. Broom. They’re always bickering about one thing or another. I can’t believe they’d be sat in silence any more than five seconds while the rest of the party was up on the roof. I certainly heard no footsteps clumping around up there, and these walls and the ceiling are thin. Well, it got to 5am and still not a peep. I’m up every night until 7am earliest you see, with my insomnia. If anyone had walked past my door I would have heard them, I’m sure of it. Even a whisper at my door would get me out of bed. It’s possible they all drank some brew and turned themselves into moths, or ants, and flew or marched out in silent single file. But I don’t think that’s likely, do you officer? What on earth could have happened to them? It’s really the strangest thing. There are voices, a glass smashes, and then nothing. Not a thing. Not a whisper. Not a peep or a toot or a squeak from a Mrs. Broom mouse. Then this morning around 10am, right as I was stepping into the shower, I heard a knock at my door. I usually don’t answer the door, but after wondering about the party all night I was curious, so I put on my robe and went to open it. No one. I looked both ways down the hall, and nothing. No one. Odd isn’t it, officer? Or maybe it isn’t. People knock on wrong doors all the time, I’m sure.

Maisie, Apt 2B
I don’t know what I heard, sir. My mommy put me to bed at my bedtime and I was dreaming about walking with her and daddy in the park at night. There were big green and white bugs flying in and out of the trees, but I wasn’t scared. Mommy was pushing them away but I didn’t mind them landing on us. One landed on my head. We played for a while and then the sun came up and the other bugs went black and some of them flew away and some dropped down to the floor. That was scary. The one on my head said goodbye and flew away. That made me sad. I don’t know why they went. When I woke up there was a bug on my pillow and it wasn’t moving. I think I squished it in my sleep. I have it in my drawer now. Want to see? I told mommy and she said it came out of my dream. I think it did too. It looks just like the one in my dream. Mommy said I can keep it. I think it’s dead. So it can’t fly away, which is good. I’ll keep it in my drawer and make a bed for it. Maybe it will dream about me.

Dennis, Apt 3C
Huh? Officer, I don’t hear nothing. I keep to myself and don’t talk to nobody in the building. This place has got a lot of sounds anyhow. Hard to tell if someone’s falling or another goddamn pipe’s bursting. The elevator scrapes and drones, pipes bust. It’s difficult to get a wink of sleep around here you know? I’m looking to move, but I’ve been here for such a long time, officer. I’m sort of attached to the place. But I’m sick of the noise. The bums on the street can’t keep quiet neither. So no, I didn’t hear nothing. Or if I did I wouldn’t know it. Such a loud goddamn building. Sorry I’ve got nothing else to tell you, officer. But if I think real hard now I remember one thing, around a quarter to midnight. Could have come from the hallway, could have been next door. Maybe 3B. Kind of like a gunshot, but not. I heard a lot of gunshots before. This was different. Can’t say what it was. And I can’t say I saw nothing. Only thing I can think is someone fell or drank a little too much and tripped over a shoe lace or something. But it’s none of my business anyhow what goes on in the other apartments. Especially 3B. None of my business but they’re some strange folks in there. Always playing foreign sounding music. Never really see them, but always hear strange music. One time I did bump into the couple that lives there. Down in the lobby checking their mail. Real strange personalities. Quiet. So how come they throw the loudest parties? Strange isn’t it, officer? To think you understand a person’s demeanour, then behind closed doors they’re something entirely different. People can transform. My mother transformed. Every day, didn’t know what you would get. She was a butterfly one minute and a cockroach the next. I don’t know bugs, but you know what I mean don’t you, officer? People are like bugs. That’s what I’m trying to say. Maybe we should all scuttle down the drain and leave this noisy world to nature again, huh officer? Give us bugs some peace from our pitiful selves. I bet you’d like that. A man of the law must be desperate for some peace. Speaking of peace, officer, I got to get me some. Goodnight.

———

Ruby Lindsey is a graduate of Camberwell College of Art (University of the Arts, London) and Duncan of Jordanstone College of Arts and Design (University of Dundee). Upon completion of her Camberwell degree show she was awarded the AMP prize, which included a solo exhibition at AMP Gallery in Peckham, London. After growing up in the North East of England she moved to New York City to work in the Arts. For the past five years she has worked as Programs Manager at non-profit visual art and performance space FiveMyles in NYC, while working on exhibiting and curating art. She has exhibited her own work in multiple group exhibitions in New York and the UK. Her curated exhibitions include HERESAY//HERASY, Sam Tufnell, SPRING/BREAK Art Fair (NY) 2021, Paradise, a light in our stars, Scarlett Lingwood, FiveMyles (NY) 2024, Run Rabbit Run!, Ana Busto, Hilary Kliros, George Simonds, A.P.E. Gallery (MA) 2024, and Zigzags, Janet Goldner, FiveMyles (NY) 2025.

DIRECTIONS:

Take 2, 3, or 4 trains to Franklin Avenue. Walk two blocks against the traffic on Franklin. Walk ¾ block to 558 St. Johns Place. FiveMyles is within easy walking distance from the Brooklyn Museum.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:

FiveMyles is in part supported by the New York State Council for the Arts, Public Funds from the New York City Dept. of Cultural Affairs in partnership with the City Council, Council Member Crystal Hudson, The Jacques and Natasha Gelman Foundation, the Joseph Robert Foundation, and the William Talbott Hillman Foundation.