The work of Lynne Cohen has grown out of the found site. Over the past thirty years she has searched for and recorded interiors, which now constitute a vast photographic repertory of pre-existing, seemingly implausible sites, each with a specific function. Whether laboratories, classrooms, or shooting ranges, the impersonal and cold settings suggest experimentation, simulation, research, and waiting. The extremely formalized way that these scenes are staged, as well as their palpable materiality, reinforced by the presence of materials such as Formica or other synthetic veneers, makes us hesitate to ascribe to them an aesthetic or practical function. We even doubt that they are real. All of the places that Cohen documents using a rigorous protocol of taking pictures—social distance, frontal or slightly oblique perspective, and diffuse lighting—really exist, but most of them are unfamiliar to us because we do not have access to them. They resemble life-size sets or models, which function to replace individuals in life situations that, in some cases, we can identify only with difficulty. As a result, these places, in which knowledge is put to use and reproduced, are troubling in themselves.