
Public Records
A Home for the Like-Minded
At first glance, the building at 233 Butler Street in Brooklyn may seem like just another structure among countless others in New York City, but its story is far from ordinary.


Originally built in the early 1900s as the headquarters of the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (ASPCA), the first anti-cruelty organization in the United States, it was later sold in the 1980s to two music entrepreneurs, including master organ builder Lawrence Trupiano. In 2017, the iconic site entered a new chapter when it was taken over by Shane Davis and Francis Harris, who transformed it into the home of their multi-functional project, Public Records.

“We stumbled upon this incredible building with this dual history of public service and a community built around music,” explains Shane. A background that perfectly aligned with Public Records’ concept: a dynamic space for diverse sonic and cultural programming, imaginative food and beverage offerings, and innovative design explorations.


The intersection of these disciplines derives from Shane and Francis’ distinct backgrounds—but similar interests. Francis being a musician, audio engineer, label owner, and experienced in hospitality, and Shane being a space and graphic designer, they bonded over the idea of creating a community space centered around music and their shared value system. “This building felt like a really inspiring context for us to take our intention and articulate it into this very interesting architectural envelope,” states Shane.
That intention grew and morphed into an all-purpose campus that explores diverse modes of experience. “It has been evolving like a living organism over the past six years,” notes Shane. In fact, it has now unfolded into five spaces: The Atrium, a vegan restaurant and music lounge; The Sound Room, a live and club space; Cafe Public, a café-record store; UPSTAIRS, a listening lounge and cocktail bar; and The Nursery, an open-air plant nursery and event space.



That intention grew and morphed into an all-purpose campus that explores diverse modes of experience. “It has been evolving like a living organism over the past six years,” notes Shane. In fact, it has now unfolded into five spaces: The Atrium, a vegan restaurant and music lounge; The Sound Room, a live and club space; Cafe Public, a café-record store; UPSTAIRS, a listening lounge and cocktail bar; and The Nursery, an open-air plant nursery and event space.


Public Records constitutes an honest redefinition of the night scene: “We feel like we filled a space in nightlife, and we have our own lane,” mentions Francis, “we’re unapologetically interested in concepts, and we don’t shy away from being intellectual.” All of this, of course, through safer spaces: “It’s not just safer spaces for people, but also for the planet, for animals, and for all species,” he describes.
The evolution of Public Records is, in reality, a portrayal of the founders’ thinking evolution. “We’re always trying to push the needle on how we can apply our interests and values and our organizational, creative, and cultural resources to continue to do new things,” Shane elaborates. “We’re interested in exploring different typologies and recontextualizing other typologies,” he says. In order to expand this pursuit to its full potential, the pair have initiated their design and development studio, Public Service.



The studio serves as a continuation of Shane and Francis’ creativity: “It’s a way for us to continue to exercise these creative and conceptual muscles and apply them to other projects with other partners in other contexts, while maintaining this core energy in the ecosystem that we’ve created.” For Shane and Francis, opening a new space is never casual — quite the opposite; it’s a meaningful, personal act of expression.
A true rendition of the way they understand design is the vision and the process of building the Public Records campus. “The building is a special property, and it required a certain level of boldness and will to tackle,” points out Shane. “We treat things in an experimental way, and we learned a lot about who we are and what we believe in from a placemaking and design process,” he continues.

Design is present in everything they do, including their understanding, empathy, rigor, and open-mindedness — the foundation of their singular energy. “We planned to do a lot of things ourselves because we believe that the authentic spirit of a place is achieved through that process,” they note. It’s an authenticity that resonates with those who experience the space and those who share their dedication to thoughtful design.
Undeniably, as a place that unites musicians, producers, artists, designers, architects, chefs and mixologists, the platform is nourished by collaboration — all guided by a common denominator: “like-mindedness and heartedness.” As they argue, “We’re just as, if not more, interested in collaborating with organizations where there’s an interesting dichotomy, and we can really tell interesting stories that are less expected and more surprising.”


An example of their multidisciplinary and collaborative spirit took shape during design week, through an immersive installation co-organized with Hello Human and Openhouse at the Public Records’ campus. The exhibition brought together works by Ah Um Design Studio, ASTRAEUS CLARKE, Ceramicah, Devin Wilde, FRAMA, Item: Enso, Kalon, Ladies & Gentlemen Studio, Matthew McCormick Studio, Murmmr, Tang Thousand, and Vy Voi — honoring the creativity and diversity of the design community. The occasion also marked the launch of Openhouse Issue No. 23, celebrated with a vibrant gathering featuring music by Renata Do Valle and sound design by Devon Turnbull / OJAS.

“Not being too precious about opening up our space to allow other designers to showcase their work feels very true to what we believe in,” they continue, “And every time we’ve done that, it’s yielded great relationships, particularly in the design community.” In many ways, Shane and Francis embody their own motto: “We take art seriously, but never ourselves.” And Public Records has become an electric place of belonging for those who live by that same ethos, whatever their discipline may be.