It’s early in the year, the air still heavy with summer but the skies opening up for the day. Through the rain, a crowd gathers inside a shopfront on Kellet Street with a barber sign from one of it’s past lives, now home to a new independent gallery called Numbers. The founders, Seb Henry-Jones, Harrison Witsey and Emma O’Neill, move between the conversation, the condensation, the hum of people waiting for something to begin. A small act of defiance against the weather, the launch feels like a quiet declaration: to make space, not just for art, but for encounter.
Take us back to the moment Numbers began to form. What carried it from thought into being?
We had spoken about doing a gallery thing for quite a long time. The prohibitive cost of rent in Sydney was probably the biggest barrier to actually getting it going. It took quite a while to find a spot that suited our needs and was also financially manageable. That, and the admin involved in beginning a commercial lease, things like insurance and becoming a not-for-profit entity. There was a fairly extensive renovation process, too.
You opened Numbers on a rain-slicked afternoon in January. There’s something poetic about a new space beginning that way. What do you remember most vividly from that day?
We were heartened by the huge turnout of old and new friends, despite the wet weather. It reflected the appetite for independently run spaces in the area, and made a long summer of tip runs, bank visits and real estate negotiations feel worthwhile. It was a bit of a blur, and there were a few celebratory drinks, so specific memories fail us. Sometimes, wet weather is seen as good luck. Perhaps the rain was auspicious.
The gallery sits inside an old barber shop. Those rooms always hold a residue of gesture and conversation. How have you worked with or against the traces of that previous life in shaping the mood of the space?
The space was a barbershop for many years. We've been told by locals that it was also a restaurant. And before that, in the sixties, old photos indicate it was a real estate agent's office. If you look carefully today, you can see some funky green, black and purple wallpaper around the place. We're not sure what era this comes from. The building itself was built in the forties. In many ways, our decision to introduce white cube gallery walls after the launch conceals a lot of that history. In order to make the space what it is now, we removed a long bench, sinks and mirrors running the length of two walls and an old office ceiling. We stopped short of covering everything up, so the white walls feel like a temporary intervention. We wanted to preserve the multicoloured (slightly dilapidated) ceiling and large Barber sign out front, for example.
You've each come from distinct artistic and curatorial practices. What kind of shared impulse or tension brought you together for this project?
We've worked together in professional and non-professional contexts over the years. Sometimes, we do have differing ideas about what 'successful' art is and what its role is in society. Above all, we share an investment in the wellbeing of Sydney's artistic landscape. While divergent, our differing ideas about how to have a positive impact on the creative ecosystem through a gallery space are more generative than not. They can all exist interdependently within the scope of functions that galleries are known to perform. We're also pretty good friends, which helps take the edge off differing perspectives.
Independent spaces like Numbers are often as much about community as they are about exhibition. What kind of relationships between artists, audiences, or neighbours are you hoping to nurture?
In the grand scheme of things, our immediate audience is relatively small. With exceptions here and there, we're speaking to a group of largely inner-city, university-educated, left-leaning people. Together, we'd like to think deeply and openly about how art and its organisation can or cannot help us move towards the material changes we wish to see in our society. We also hope to welcome those outside of that immediate audience, and for the nature of this relationship to feel conversational. Perhaps it can take place not only through the exhibition program, but through the other ways a cultural space can talk, listen and think about the role of art and artists. This way of working encourages an expanded understanding of art that's closer to the way culture occurs.
Kings Cross has its own layered identity. How does the local atmosphere inflect the gallery's rhythm and ambitions? Looking forward, what kind of presence do you want Numbers to have?
Kellett Street in Potts Point has a wild and storied history. It began as a 19th-century residential street and later became known as a hotspot for Sydney's underworld, most famously the site of the 1929 "Razor-Gang Battle" between Tilly Devine and Kate Leigh.Today, it's a real mix. We share the street with nightclubs, public health services, a yoga/pilates studio, other art galleries and residential buildings. There's a broad cross-section of people wandering past every day, who have been really curious and welcoming. We've befriended bouncers, pilates instructors and local residents. It's cemented our commitment to being a welcoming space that is in conversation with community.
Opening a space like this is as much an emotional act as a logistical one. What sustains you through the grind of running a gallery?
As three people locked into careers in the arts and who feel uninspired by its institutionally-driven cultural standards, it's a bit like... what else is there to do?
Words by Atia Rahim, Photos by Bruce Koussaba and Numbers Gallery