In a bad economy, the art goes home. Artists can't rent studios so they stay in their basements. Nobody can rent gallery space, so shows happen in sheds and garages. At artist Klara Glosova's Beacon Hill house this month, the show isn't so much "happening" as it is colonizing the entire house.

The opening of the show—called Nepo, "open" spelled backwards—was last Saturday night. It's open again this Saturday from 4 to 8, and you should go.

When you do, here's what you'll find: A wine bottle continuously spilling wine—it's a fountain by Glenn Herlihy—in the glass bottle recycling box under the kitchen counter. (You can drink from it, but probably you shouldn't.) On the floor next to the upstairs bathtub there's a pile of gray marble shavings. They're the leftovers from Dan Webb's new sculpture show at Greg Kucera Gallery; Webb's own little homage to Robert Smithson's non-sites, maybe.

Every part of the house—coffee tables, the front of the refrigerator, the countertops, bed pillows, the tops of dressers, closets, not only walls but corners—is a canvas. Many pieces are twinned (this is the second show at this venue). For instance: the painted ceramic mountainside on the floor in the corner of the entryway is a 3d detail, adapted by Rumi Koshino, of an idyllic ski scene in an old-timey painting hanging in the living room. A white puddle sitting on the floor—who knows who made it?—looks like it's alone. But look up and it's on the ceiling, "reflected," in wood.

There is so much art in Nepo that there's no way I saw it all. I did see the video of a feast being prepared, playing on the kitchen counter (collaboration by Natalie Campbell, Heidi Neilson, Liz Zanis, and Carissa Carman). Bellen Drake's stark black-and-white photographs of newborn twins on the slanted wall above a child's bed. Clip-on earrings made of human hair in a box on the master bedroom dresser. The poet Seanjohn, standing inside a costume cartoon head, in the shower, performing. Hanging sculptures in the closet, by Jennifer Dixon. Plastic bags underfoot on the kitchen floor that weren't plastic bags at all but copies of plastic bags, again by Koshino. Also in the kitchen: two stacks, one of books, the other of food boxes, minimalist monuments to the Descartes.

Nothing was labeled, so it was sometimes hard to tell what was art and what wasn't—or which art was here for the show, and which art was in Glosova's family's life all the time. (She's got a husband, two children, and a dog who stayed behind a closed door in the basement, leading to which was Glosova's sculpture of brightly colored extension cords descending a staircase). And this was part of the point. Jason Hirata's backwards drawing of an Ikea sink install manual on the refrigerator? Art. The climbing wall in the child's bedroom? Not art, just really fun. You could live like this, or more like this.

Money or not.

See the landscape of Nepo recreated awesomely in composite photographs and text, on Glosova's blog. Here are a couple of the composites.

The entryway:

The kitchen: