Since its opening in 1995, the Soap Factory has shown the Twin Cities some of the boldest art in town. With eggs hanging from gauze ovaries, newspaper photos of faces smeared into mystery, and grass splitting through the hardwood floor, its images burn indelibly through the city's aesthetic like kerosene through snow. Combining good intentions and good taste, the nonprofit No Name Exhibitions fills its warehouse space with work by emerging artists that often challenges, provokes, shocks, and seduces--all without falling prey to those corny pomo recitations about "starting a dialogue" and "ending silences." Who'd have thought it possible?


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