Tucked between an elementary school and a public library in Brooklyn’s Greenpoint neighborhood lies an unusual take on the modern concept of a luxury workspace. Known as “Chat Haus,” this unique coworking environment seems at first glance much like any traditional office—busy occupants typing on keyboards, someone engrossed in a phone call, another taking an occasional coffee break. But closer inspection reveals a striking difference: everything, from the workers to their laptops and furniture, is crafted entirely from cardboard.
In reality, Chat Haus is an inventive art installation by Brooklyn-based artist Nim Ben-Reuven. Within its cardboard walls, a collection of mechanical figures—”cardboard babies” according to their creator—sit diligently typing away, moved by compact motors concealed beneath their cardboard exteriors. A sign displayed prominently within the exhibit humorously advertises desk space in this “luxury coworking space for chatbots” for an extravagant $1,999 per month.
Discussing the inspirations behind his installation, Ben-Reuven described it as an imaginative response to the growing frustration he feels as artificial intelligence reshapes his profession. Primarily working in graphic design and videography, he points to an increasing trend where freelance roles he once pursued are instead being filled by AI-driven tools.
“I built Chat Haus as a humorous way to cope,” Ben-Reuven said. “It helps me not grow resentful about the rapid industry changes happening right before my eyes—changes I’m not particularly eager to embrace. Humor seemed an ideal approach to express my feelings without sounding too bitter.”
Ben-Reuven stressed the importance of keeping the installation playful and accessible. He cautioned against overly negative art, explaining such works often become defensive and restrictive. By maintaining a lighter tone, he aimed to engage a broader audience, appealing to both adults and younger passersby, as well as varying attitudes toward AI.
Positioned in a storefront on Norman Avenue, Chat Haus indeed draws the attention intended by its creator. During a brief conversation at a café across the street, numerous passersby paused to admire, photograph, and question the curious display. The artist views AI’s encroachment on the creative industry with a measured perspective, recognizing that, despite its negative impact, the phenomenon pales in comparison to global crises and traumas dominating news headlines.
“Compared to the war, terror, and trauma taking place around the world right now, the impact of AI on creative jobs feels rather trivial,” Ben-Reuven noted.
Cardboard has featured prominently in Ben-Reuven’s art throughout his career, dating back to a graduate project where he constructed an entire replica airport terminal from the material. Over the past decade, between freelance assignments, he has meticulously built his “cardboard babies.” Using cardboard served both artistic and practical purposes—Ben-Reuven humorously admitted he needed a reason to relocate some of these sculptures out of his crowded apartment. Symbolically, cardboard becomes commentary, underscoring his observation that artificial intelligence can present captivating facades ultimately lacking substance or resilience under scrutiny.
“The fragility of cardboard perfectly illustrates my view of AI-generated creativity,” he explained. “Images produced by platforms like Midjourney might captivate briefly but rarely withstand close examination. Like cardboard, they’re shiny on the outside yet quickly collapse under even minimal scrutiny.”
Nevertheless, Ben-Reuven understands the appeal of AI-generated art. He likens it to consuming junk food—a fleeting, satisfying burst of pleasure despite limited long-term value.
Chat Haus occupies its Greenpoint location temporarily; the building awaits permit approvals for upcoming renovation work. Ben-Reuven hopes to maintain the display through at least mid-May. Ideally, he’d like to secure a larger gallery space capable of accommodating expanded versions of his project, although storage concerns at home admittedly temper this ambition.
“Ultimately, I wanted to whimsically depict this concept of countless cute but eerie robots endlessly typing, powered by our AI queries in some distant server farm-consuming as much electricity as entire countries,” Ben-Reuven said.
For now, his cardboard coworkers continue their diligent work behind glass at 121 Norman Avenue in Brooklyn, presenting a humorous yet thought-provoking glimpse into humanity’s complex relationship with artificial intelligence.
