Above the entrance vestibule of the Gladstone Hotel, perched like a visual riddle, lies Patterning. It’s not just an installation, it’s a game—a trick of the eye that plays out in two worlds: the street and the vestibule. You can see it from the outside, but it’s inside, in the heart of the building, where the real magic happens. Picture it: three intersecting planes, slicing through space like invisible knives, each one set to unleash a moiré effect—a kind of optical chaos that messes with your head, warping your sense of space. The whole thing is an exercise in perception, pulling visitors into a vortex where they’re forced to rely on nothing but their own visual savvy to make sense of it. Step closer, and bam! An unexpected shift, a jolt to the senses. It’s disorienting, it’s challenging, and it’s exactly what art should be—an invitation to lose yourself and find something new.