The most that these spaces can offer is the facsimile of traditional pleasures. They take nature and art and knowledge seeking, flatten them into sight gags and stick them to every stray surface. At a preview party for the Museum of Pizza — held inside a real museum, the New Museum — items like a slice-shaped guitar donated by the musician Andrew W.K. were displayed in glass boxes, as if to conjure an air of significance. The Museum of Ice Cream’s Pint Shop offshoot (now closed) was only “creative” insofar as taking photographs inside a store creates a kind of content. And the “discovery” offered by the Color Factory mainly involves following directions: Trace a flow chart on the floor to find your “secret color,” which corresponds with a random dance move — “air guitar like you’ve never air guitared before” — you’re instructed to complete on the light-up floor in the next room.

Inside the Rosé Mansion, I was ushered into a space called “the patio,” handed a sheet of round purple stickers representing various wine grapes and instructed to affix them to the patio’s all-white walls and deck chairs and fake plants. It is a blatant rip-off of Yayoi Kusama’s signature piece, her Obliteration Room. That piece was designed to evoke the dot hallucinations the artist has experienced her whole life. The Rosé Mansion version instead evokes the idea that we like to get tipsy and put stickers on things.

The Mansion doesn’t even manage to take wine seriously. Its walls are papered with “facts” like “sweet wines have been the most famous and sought after wines in the world for the past 5,000 years.” At a “blend your own rosé” station, you can tick off your preferred levels of “acidity” and “fruitiness” on a piece of paper, then hand it to an employee wearing lab glasses who pumps a bunch of different wines into one cup. As she put it, “I’m like Dr. Frankenstein, but with wine.”