While wandering through the Chelsea Gallery district recently, I stopped by Pace Gallery on West 25th Street and headed up to the outdoor terrace. There, overlooking the eastern skyline with the Hudson River just beyond, I encountered a remarkable sculpture of two young men standing together in a close embrace, while each man wears a virtual reality headst. Call this a different kind of public art!
Entitled Close, this 2025 sculpture is by the Scandinavian artist duo Elmgreen & Dragset, and it is carved entirely from white marble. At more than five feet tall, the figures are life-size enough to feel like actual people sharing an intimate moment, which makes the VR headsets all the more intriguing.
The title Close seems almost too obvious at first. The two figures are physically very close, with each man wrapping his arms around the other. But mentally? They could be worlds apart. That contrast is exactly what Elmgreen & Dragset — Michael Elmgreen and Ingar Dragset —are exploring. The artists describe the figures as being physically close while simultaneously existing somewhere else through their digital experiences. In other words, they are together — but not necessarily together.
Isn’t that a pretty perfect representation of modern life? We can sit next to someone while both of us are absorbed in our phones, put on headphones and retreat into our own private soundtrack, or now strap on a VR headset and enter an entirely different reality without ever leaving the room. The sculpture takes that increasingly familiar experience and freezes it in marble.
There is also something wonderfully ironic about the choice of material. Marble has traditionally been associated with classical sculpture, permanence, beauty, and the physical human form. Here, that very traditional material is being used to depict people experiencing something completely intangible and digital.
Elmgreen & Dragset have been collaborating since 1995 and are known for creating works that explore identity, belonging, and the way we interact with the environments around us. Their art often takes familiar situations and objects and puts a slightly unexpected — and often humorous — spin on them.
I think Close does exactly that. It looks simple at first: two people hugging. Then you notice the goggles. Then you start thinking about what it means to be physically close to someone while your mind is somewhere else. Maybe the real question isn’t whether these two men are close. It’s where, exactly, are they?

