The window of the Stevenson was open to the street. Usually the gallery is an isolated time and space capsule. Inside, troubles and contexts can be forgotten in the sterile cube that could be anywhere in the world. The tunnel-like entrance is on Main Road in Woodstock in Cape Town. At the end of the tunnel is an unmanned locked glass door that only an entitled finger can open. Although only a wall separates the entrance from one of the busiest roads in the city, it feels far away from the taxi gaatjie shouting out a destination. It’s way faster and cheaper escapism than any last-minute flight on offer. A life-size wallpaper relocates visitors to the gallery into a street where three men on the move in different directions are indifferent to the presence of people watching them. There are scenes from more streets where other people on the move are captured in choreography that might be mistaken for disorder by a western eye. Through framed glass windows are a host of busy people — wo...

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