How the room was built
The floor plan
The whole current exhibition in three square rooms of the studio's own making, ten metres by ten in a row, with a three-metre opening between each. This is not the finished gallery: it settles the one thing that is expensive to change later and cheap to change now, which is the shape.
Each work prints at 150 centimetres, and that single number is what sized the room. Hung two rows high — centres at 1.35 and 3.05 metres, the way the gallery this is modelled on hangs its own — the three rooms carry 105 metres of wall and seventy-six places to hang from, numbered one to seventy-six. A place with nothing in it wears its own number, so a gap on the wall says which gap it is.
The ceiling follows from the hang rather than from taste. Two rows of a metre-and-a-half want three metres of picture before any clearance at all, so the rooms are 4.4 metres high and the works sit between 0.6 and 3.8 off the floor. The dividing walls are the ones that earn their keep — each hangs on both faces, so its seven metres count twice, and they are what make the second and third rooms rooms rather than the far end of the first one.
The light in here was not worked out by your browser. The room was modelled in Blender and lit properly — bounced, shadowed, computed once on a machine with time to do it — and the result was baked into a picture of its own walls. What loads above has no lights in it at all, which is why it runs on a tablet.
The tell, if you want one, is the dark pictures. An evenly lit room multiplies a work by the light landing on it, so a dark work rendered the easy way comes back as mud — and the usual dodge is to make every picture quietly self-lit. Nothing in here glows. A dark picture is dark because that is what the light says.