Enclosed in an old freight elevator, Museum specializes in found objects --- wacky, weird, deteriorating stuff that somehow made their way out of their owners' hands and into this Tribeca alley. On view are such things as a UN sign, a collection of toothpaste from around the world, moldy credit cards fished up from the Pacific, misspelled food labels, Argentine photos of a man and his chimp, Chinatown sex aids, and knock-off Sharpies. It's a strange little place.
As you contemplate the movement of these things from elsewhere to here, you can't help but consider your own path. Where were you before you went to Museum? Whatever happened to your lucky pen / childhood playmate / favorite socks? However did you wind up here?