White Street at Seigel Street, Bushwick.   (Photo: Courtesy of the artist)

Maybe you saw a mid-century living room this past summer, positioned en plein air just off the Morgan L-train stop? Or perhaps you stumbled upon a bathroom, unplumbed but complete with claw-foot tub, out in the open in Chelsea? If not, keep looking.

17th Street, between Ninth Avenue and Tenth Avenue, Manhattan.   (Photo: Courtesy of the artist.)

#setinthestreet, an ongoing�and intentionally ephemeral�photography project, began as a cheap solution to an artist’s problem and quickly turned into a prankish gift to the city’s pedestrians. This past spring, Justin Bettman, a 23-year-old California native with a nose ring, was introduced to Gözde Eker, who is Turkish, also pierced, and 33. Bettman, a photographer, and Eker, a prop stylist, share a similar Wes Anderson�inspired kitsch aesthetic, and they came upon the idea of composing photographs produced inexpensively and outside: All they needed was a 90-degree angle, the place where the sidewalk meets a wall.

Rivington Street, between Orchard and Ludlow, Manhattan.   (Photo: Courtesy of the artist)

Sometimes the pair scout in tandem via Google Street View; other times Bettman uses his morning jogs to find both locations and props: lamps left on stoops, fans sitting amid recycling bins, a taxidermied deer head abandoned on Bedford Avenue. All are sprayed three times for bedbugs, stored in a carless, padlocked parking space belonging to a friend, and U-Hauled to the chosen location in the wee hours of the morning.

White Street at Seigel Street, Bushwick.   (Photo: Courtesy of the artist)

�We pay so much money for rent, but there’s so much available to us for free,� says Bettman. He and Eker insist they’re not littering but rather �curating furniture that has been disposed of and putting it all in one area for the community to see.� Fans even augment the scenes with items of their own. It’s urban entropy that is ultimately responsible for the sets’ disappearance�upholstery gets soggy, desirable accents get taken. A living room set up in Bushwick remained for eight days, while a bedroom on the Lower East Side lasted only three hours. Regardless, the lessons are the same: Furniture is freer than we think, and public space has a lot fewer rules.