Bureau of Awesome Interactive Art

A couple weeks ago, I stopped by the Albright-Knox Art Gallery to check out the first installation in the the upcoming "Beyond/In Western New York" exhibition, which opens in earnest on Sept. 14. The work at the gallery was a breathtaking assortment of stuff from 14 area artists (from as far away as Toronto, Cleveland and Ithaca), ranging from blood-red cardboard sculptures to video installations from artists as established as Michael Snow and as new and hip as Jeremy Bailey.

But the one installation that really stuck with me (aside from Simone Montellassi's enormous collection of weird and glorious paintings), was an entire room by Buffalo artist Chris Barr dedicated to what he calls "The Bureau of Workplace Interruptions."

The room is laid out like many modern offices (think a more Euro-vibed "Office Space" or "The Office"), with plasma screens on the walls, computers, and sleek black and white decor. On the walls, there were slogans that ranged from the vaguely encouraging to the ominously threatening. And behind the desk sat an attendant (the artist himself), who offered an overview of the bureau's purpose: It could, Barr said, provide a random "interruption" to those who signed up—either on slips of paper or at an internet kiosk in the corner—by listing their place of employment, hours of work, and contact information.

Unable to resist the temptation, I filled out a slip of paper listing my work phone number and address. In the small section mysteriously marked "juicy details," not sure what to add, I jokingly wrote: "Sometimes, I fall asleep on the job."

For the past couple weeks, I'd been wondering whether Barr was serious about the project, half expecting my phone to ring any minute, or for someone to call up from the security desk, wondering why there were 15 people dressed in clown outfits asking to see me. But today, I stopped wondering. Buried in a  pile of mail this morning, I found it: a small, blue faded envelope. The return address? "The Bureau of Workplace Interruptions, Albright-Knox Branch Office, 1285 Elmwood Ave."

I opened it like a starving kid might open a piece of Halloween candy. And here's what it contained:

And just for the record, I don't really sleep on the job. Usually.

-Colin Dabkowski