Two years ago, the ambiguity of Lower East Side’s “Con Artist” left entering passersby a bit confused. Vintage clothes hung all about the room, records filled the corners, and a funky array of trinkets were scattered upon every flat surface. The place seemed to be solely defined as a store. And yet, just past this eyeful, artists filtered in and out on a daily basis as they worked, collaborated and displayed their art in the space’s back room. Brian Shevlin, owner and founder of Con Artist, was not okay with this disconnection. “The store was taking away from our vision,” Shevlin said, “A lot of people just thought we were a thrift store, but we’re more about our artists’ collective. Our concept has always been to create, build and prosper and that just wasn’t getting communicated.”

After much revamping, Con Artist has finally molded into its intended form: an artist workshop and gallery. The workshop is any young artist’s dream. With plenty of supplies, space, storage, 24/7 access, and most importantly variety, Con Artist has virtually all the tools a budding artist needs to hone their craft and explore others, or as Shevlin put it, “play around.”

While the idea of a space where artists can gather and work on their craft within a community is not exactly a new one, Con Artist definitely has its unique perks. For one, the space is not dedicated solely to one type of art medium, such as pottery, or printmaking. The range of tools and equipment available to members of the collective is expansive and virtually all-inclusive. “When you’re a creative person you’re not usually like ‘Oh I only like to paint and I hate doing anything else creative.’ It’s usually just one of the many things you do,” Shevlin explained. In addition to providing tools and space, Con Artist provides a business aspect to the operation, one that apparently is often overlooked by other similar locales. At Con Artist, members of the collective are given opportunities to gain something back from their creative process besides their pieces. Frequent gallery showings and participation in artisan fleas allow guests to purchase art as well as any other miscellaneous objects the artist wishes to sell. Essentially this is the “prosper” of the “create, build, and prosper” idea, and with Con Artist’s small commission of 20% for each sale, it seems like a generous one.

Shevlin’s vision of an affordable artist space and business model stemmed from his own frustrations as an art student. “Basically art is a constant expense until you’ve made it,” he said. Over the years, he came to realize that in order to make ends meet, he (and other young artists in general) usually had to work in a completely different field to make extra money, something he felt unfairly detracted from an artist’s creative focus. With this reality in mind, Shevlin set the price for monthly use of the workshop at a generously low price of 180 dollars per month, the collective membership price at fifty dollars, and storage price ranging from twenty to forty dollars per use. Most other art spaces charge upwards of three to four hundred dollars in total for such amenities.

Even in a struggling economy however, Con Artist’s price is hardly their only allure. Their growing group of seventy gains much more than money, they gain an incomparable atmosphere of mutual respect and non-stop inspiration. Even with the constant ebb and flow of people, it’s evident that problems between members are minimal. Managerial duties pertain more to the intricacies of event planning and smooth processing than to crowd control or scuffles between members. In fact, even those who are not active within the workshop anymore, still pay the collective membership price to stay connected to their fellow artistic peers. How does such a large group of creative people with a variety of different tastes work so harmoniously you might ask? Shevlin attributes the harmony directly to the ambience. “In a shared space such as our workshop, everyone is exposed. It’s like being naked on a stage. No one’s got anything to lose.”