The wall had been designed to keep our artist practices distinct from one another, but we saw exciting potential in erasing this boundary. We decided to tear an opening into the wall and flank it with two desks where we could sit facing each other. We built a drawer with which we could pass objects or notes through the wall and began to augment the architecture on either side. With each physical change we created, our alternating personal need for boundaries and openings—in our studios, within our friendship, between our private practices-- demanded our attention. For example, when one of us built a stage as a designated social area, this made the wall’s function as a social divider more acute for the other. At the same time the wall didn’t function enough as a divider, since the new social activity created an invasion to the space next door. This caused the other to build a studio-within-the-studio by erecting more walls as another layer of division, or protection. The architecture continued to evolve like a call-and-response, raising the question: Are the boundaries we maintain between ourselves and other people designated by architecture, or are they a product of our minds?