"Domestic" means humanness, and relates to the word "interiority." That's intriguing when you think about it, because exhibiting art is such a public thing. I've often wondered how people hosting art shows from their homes balance privacy with inviting the spotlight. It looks as though it could be fun, like throwing a party, but also seems potentially intrusive, not to mention lots of work.

Lately, I've become obsessed with these spaces. Maybe it's the thrill of standing on the doorstep of a total stranger's house, wondering what there is to discover beyond the threshold. It feels nonconformist and adventurous. Or maybe it's the built-in comfort when visiting a domestic space I've already been to, like hanging out with a good friend who also loves art. Pets, family members, house plants, privacy signs, personal decor — it all adds up to a subjective context opposite the hermetic air of a typical gallery. There's an irresistible ambiance to domestic settings that belie serious intent.

Underground Gallery doubles as a live-work studio for artist and shoemaker Armando Torres

The domestic art space has existed through history, from the drawing-room salons of centuries past to the bohemian lofts and gritty warehouses of recent decades. There's a respectable reputation to it as a model. Many commercial galleries have begun in residential settings. A great example — as much for its unusual name — is Haunch of Venison in London, which started modestly in a kitchen. Lemon Sky, initiated by Jane Hart in 1997 in her Hollywood Hills home, also became a commercial gallery. Bliss, Fette's Gallery and Champion Fine Art are other notable private spaces in LA's recent history that have left their mark. They have undoubtedly helped launch the careers of artists and curators, and although no longer in existence, they have inspired a new crop of similar endeavors.

Los Angeles, with its tendency to embrace sprawl — as opposed to a city like New York, where extra room is unheard of — can offer up houses, garages and yards as options for exhibiting art. But what LA is particularly known for, and why it's so conducive to spawning domestic spaces, is its anything-goes attitude. It's no wonder that so many new ones continue to appear.

When Cherie Benner Davis inaugurated her space, The Attic, in July, she titled her first exhibition "On the Downlow," in reference to the ceiling height. A steep set of stairs leads from the ground floor of the Hollywood bungalow to a finished attic running the length of the building. Claressinka Anderson also opened a new space this past summer; Marine Gallery is located in a modern house in Santa Monica, only blocks from the beach. Summer Camp, codirected by Janice Gomez, Fatima Hoang and Elonda Billera, began in late spring with an outdoor sculpture show at their El Sereno home. A friend had given the hillside ranch house that name because it felt like "being in the country."

Jane Chafin's Offramp Gallery in Pasadena, begun a year ago, was also named after its locale — inevitably for LA, near a freeway. The space is more inviting than it sounds, in an historic building with an adjacent garden. Garage Gallery, located in a rustic building behind Ali Grossman's Los Feliz bungalow, also has a warm and elegant ambiance that contradicts its name. For several years, openings at the retro garage had a lively but elegant vibe, with an outdoor fireplace blazing on chilly nights, a spread of homemade cookies, and a DJ playing music. And then there's the most fitting name of all: Domestic Setting. Since 1993, Jeanne Patterson has directed this home gallery in Mar Vista. She describes it as a "subversive activity" in which fantastic things happen behind the curtained living room window, in a neighborhood filled with white picket fences like the one that fronts her charming house.

One of the biggest differences between domestic and commercial spaces is that directors of the former more readily put emerging and established artists together in the same exhibitions. This deflates the art-world hierarchy of "emerging" versus "established." Many domestics in fact actively support artists who don't have gallery representation. While there's a perception that domestic art spaces primarily exhibit the work of the director's friends — which is often true — there are good reasons for this. Artistic friendships are rooted in years of familiarity with the work and the artist. This is certainly not a new scenario (Man Ray and Duchamp, for example, routinely put on home shows of their friends' work). Nor has it ever been limited to the noncommercial world.

Words like "democracy," "freedom," "empowerment" and "community" are consistent responses when domestic art- space directors are asked why they start them. Such grassroots undertakings tend to happen in times of economic hardship, like now. But they also occur when the art world is flush. For example, Drew Heitzler and Flora Wiegmann conceived of Champion Fine Art in 2003, at the height of an economic boom period, when the rise of art fairs and big-name curators seemed to dampen artists' own control over reception of their work. Although Champion began when Heitzler and Wiegmann lived in Brooklyn, they conceived of it as an LA space. They moved to Culver City just as the warehouse district began to boom as an arts destination, and continued it for another year. The premise was to invite friends whose work they admired to curate shows in a gallery within their home. "This was a way to participate in the art world on our own terms," says Heitzler.

Artist Curated Projects (ACP), initiated several years ago by friends Eve Fowler and Lucas Michael, also follows the concept of a communal enterprise. There's an additional goal of supporting underrepresented artists. "It's about empowering artists, about respecting their work and who they are," says Fowler. ACP does not restrict its activities to a single space, but many are held in her Hollywood apartment, located in an historic building once owned by writer Jack London. Other domestics voice a different emphasis, in which the work factors as a more obvious focus. Much of the curating effort then falls to one person, who hangs the show in addition to cleaning house.

When a home is presented like a gallery, there's a warmth to it because of its intimate context and intentions. "Immediately there's a certain barrier that's broken down; it's more relaxed," says Anderson of Marine Gallery. And that translates into an atmosphere in which art can more easily be envisioned in its end-destination, a home. In a way, it becomes easier then to woo collectors to buy art. While highly successful galleries attract collectors and visitors with the impressively big (rooms, artists, art, prices), domestics have an advantage by being small. Armando H. Torres' Underground Gallery, for example, is located in a tiny basement-level studio apartment. Torres offers artists who have never had a solo show their first opportunity. It's a far less daunting situation, he insists, because it isn't too hard to fill the space.

Demanding creativity, flexibility and resiliency to survive, domestics are almost always run by artists. The role of the curator is like that of the artist — a creative one, another reason for the emergence of these spaces. "It's like, ‘Yeah, let's build a fort!,' a chance to go back to the origins of creativity," explains Chafin of Offramp. The home setting, with its often quirky if not imperfect architecture, requires creative thinking. "I like hanging art in a space with challenges," says Patterson of Domestic Setting.

Anderson also exemplifies this enthusiasm for curating, even in the brief time she has operated Marine Gallery. She studied art photography while living in her native London, and spent years working in commercial galleries there. In recent years, she has worked in LA as an independent curator. She brings both professional experience and an artist's unconventional approach to the task. This is reflected even in the conceptual approach she takes to numbering works of art and applying that to naming her exhibitions. She photographs the artists in the space with the work and aims to produce a comprehensive catalog of art and exhibitions at the end of each year.

Apart from the lure of curation as a creative act, the domestic art space can be a form of rebellion. Domestics often emerge as a reaction to feeling pushed away by the system. This tendency to want to take direct creative control mirrors a larger cultural trend of do-it-yourself resourcefulness. Perhaps stemming from this DIY approach, domestic spaces, like nonprofit organizations, often radiate a community spirit. Domestics reflect part of a new professional practice in which artists and curators network as proactive steps to shape their careers. Collaboration rather than competition is the norm.

Elliott Oliver and Liz Smith of Fakespace often collaborate with other artists they know around the country. They invite them to participate in exhibitions they host in their live/work loft located in the Santa Fe art colony, near downtown. As an extension of these creative activities, Oliver and Smith extend the concept of "setting" to the Web by posting images and blog updates. They see this as not about selling art — although they have done so during these exhibitions. Rather, it's about experimentation and the sharing of ideas.

By placing less emphasis on the product, the focus can shift to "process." This encourages greater risk-taking, with arguably more dynamic and challenging results. The downside can be that quality isn't always so carefully considered under such fluid circumstances. But bad or good art is encountered anywhere.

So is art shown in domestic settings substantially different from other spaces? At its best, one would say yes. The domestic, in part for its communal spirit, tends to inspire a why-not attitude that favors experimentation.

Art in domestic spaces more readily blends genres, media and styles. For example, Underground Gallery's intimate setting seemed especially right for Albert Reyes' subtly balanced lowbrow/highbrow aesthetic, in which he applied graffiti and drawings directly to the walls. Although a street sensibility has been tried in commercial galleries, I've not seen it pulled off as successfully, perhaps because the very nature of setting is such a crucial factor.

"I like when exhibitions can blur the lines between what the space should be, or even what art should be," says Torres. I agree. At Champion Fine Art, Wiegmann, who is a professional dancer, created public performances in response to the partially de-installed visual art exhibitions presented in their home gallery. Although the mixing of separate art disciplines isn't new, what made this endeavor different is that it became a consistent and inherent aspect of the gallery's identity.

Often, artworks and exhibitions are specifically conceived for the domestic setting, which can enhance the impact. Installations, performances, videos and other non-traditional media are not only encouraged in domestic settings, they are often presented in highly unorthodox ways. After four months in existence and three outdoor sculpture shows, Summer Camp is planning an entirely indoor event, with video screenings that will require viewers to look up at the ceiling while reclining on the living room floor.

If this trend of emerging domestic settings continues — economic downturn or not — then things certainly are looking up in the art world after all. Presenting art in domestic settings isn't necessarily anti-gallery; it's a parallel, if not complementary practice. It's an additional model that's out there, allowing more kinds of work to get exposure.