If you've been to the Hungerford Building (it's by the train tracks on East Main, just north of the Village Gate), you know its appeal. It holds studios for all sorts of artists and musicians, houses art galleries and a recording studio, and enables hundreds of creative souls to, well, create.

Last Friday, March 6, I headed over to check out the opening of the "Hidden Hungerford" exhibit. The parking lot was full, and there were people of all ages entering and exiting the building. As I entered Door 2, a man asked if I knew where I was going. I did (and if I didn't, there were purple arrows on the walls to guide me). I passed a few teenagers on the stairs, and realized how odd it was to see the place teeming with people; the cavernous building can sometimes be eerily quiet.

There was a tattooed group of 20somethings perusing the art in Crocus Clay Gallery when I showed up. Crocus Clay hosted "Hidden Hungerford," and among a spread of snacks and many charming clay items, I found a few adorable handknit cat-ear hats I could've easily taken home.

It was also First Friday that night -- at one point, a woman came in to announce the bus was leaving for Visual Studies Workshop -- so, as a bonus, several in-house artists opened their studios to the public. In a studio space across the hall from Crocus Clay, men and women in their 30's to 50's sipped wine and ate cheese and crackers while admiring works by several artists, including a hawk mask by Jason Tennant, and some striking sculptures.

Down the hall, another group visited with some artists who were lounging in their studio-turned-gallery. The artists casually answering questions the group had about some gorgeous collaborative pieces.

I wandered into another artist's studio. He stood there alone, his art hanging all over and stacked against the walls. As I walked in and out, then around the building by myself, I could hear a band practicing somewhere in the distance. I didn't find the source of the music, but did come across a space called Hungerford Hall, where several cameras were set up to tape live bands. Some video installations played on a screen. I stayed only briefly, but definitely plan a return visit to that space.

As I looked for other open doors, and came across only closed ones, I couldn't help but wonder what other works of art were hidden away, what other artists were at work at that very moment. Did those that opened up for the evening feel oddly on display within their sacred space? What if someone were to come into my apartment, where I write songs, just to have a look around? It's a little different. But still, I couldn't help but think it was very selfless of the Hungerford artisans to invite strangers and scrutiny for an evening. On the other hand, the work was mostly for sale, so one hopes maybe they made a couple bucks, too.