Mini art vending machines are taking the Twin Cities by storm, offering accessible and affordable artwork that you can purchase with just a handful of quarters. These nostalgic coin-operated devices are popping up everywhere from print shops to parks, allowing art lovers to take home genuine handmade pieces without breaking the bank.
Anna Glassman-Kaufman, marketing coordinator for France 44 in Linden Hills, has never received so many concerned customer inquiries before. Shoppers weren't asking about wine tastings or sandwich specials – they desperately wanted to know when the Minneapolis shop's Inciardi Mini Print Vending Machine would be restocked. "We were out of stock for like a week and a half," she laughs. "And the number of messages we got on our Instagram from folks wondering when they were coming back was crazy."
The machines feature artwork by Ana Inciardi, a relief printmaker based in Portland, Maine, whose food-themed prints – featuring olives, hot dogs, and everything bagels – went viral in 2023. Her Instagram video of one of her earliest Mini Print Vending Machines amassed millions of views, sparking a nationwide phenomenon. Today, there are more than 75 Mini Print Vending Machines across the United States, with new locations added monthly. Minnesota has machines in Duluth at Northern Waters Smokehaus, Grand Marais at Roam & Whimsy Co., and the Twin Cities' sole location at France 44, which has been operating since last October.
However, Inciardi's machine isn't the only option for quarter-wielding art enthusiasts. Mini art vending machines have been appearing throughout Minnesota over the past few years at print shops, art markets, museums, and even public parks. From Bench Pressed letterpress shop in Seward to Silverwood Park in St. Anthony, these small art dispensers are becoming increasingly common across the region.
The appeal of these compact vending machines is immediately obvious. They're fun to operate, inexpensive to purchase from, and carry a strong nostalgic element that reminds users of buying small toys or trinkets from similar coin-operated machines in their childhood. In an era dominated by computers, cryptocurrency, and AI-generated content, the concept is refreshingly simple: genuine handmade art exchanged for real coins, typically just a few quarters' worth. "I love the tactile piece of it," Glassman-Kaufman explains. "There's nothing digital about it; you don't even have to plug in the machine. It's just quarters and prints, and that's it."
The concept predates Inciardi's viral success by more than a decade. In 2012, local printmaker and book artist Caitlin Warner created the Unvending project during a residency at the Highpoint Center for Printmaking in Minneapolis. Her initiative brought miniature screen-printed books and other artworks to refurbished machines throughout the Twin Cities. "I was a bit jaded with the whole, I don't know, fine art thing," Warner reflects, "and not quite sure how to navigate wanting to genuinely connect with people and make stuff for the sake of loving it versus all the strange ways you have to contort yourself to try to monetize your work and make it more serious and important-sounding than it is as a fine artist with a capital A."
Warner's Unvending machines explored these artistic tensions by repurposing old dispensers found on eBay and Craigslist. She filled them with tiny handmade books and prints whose subject matter cleverly corresponded with each machine's previous function. Visitors could discover a miniature book about love in a former condom machine, or find a scroll with emergency acting notes in a repurposed tampon dispenser. The project, which concluded a few years after its inception, demonstrated the potential for alternative art distribution methods.
For printmakers like Mary C. Bruno of Bruno Press in St. Joseph, these devices hold natural appeal. "I'm obsessed with all analog, vintage shit anyways," she admits. Bruno remembers being fascinated by Art-o-mats, those converted cigarette machines that began distributing art in the late 1990s, which Inciardi has also cited as early inspiration for her own work.
The vending machine art movement extends far beyond prints. Local pop artist Boxy Mouse sells buttons and mini skate decks through machines at United Noodles, while Jessica Behnke Heusinkveld of Lumps of Clay Studios places tiny ceramic creations in a portable vending machine that travels with her to festivals throughout central Minnesota. At the Spare Change Gallery on East Lake Street, the vending machine functions as a gift shop, stocked with stickers and zines that complement rotating public art exhibits.
The Minneapolis gallery, operated by community art space Curiosity Studio, occupies a hallway shared with Laune Bread and currently displays prints created using day-old breads and croissants from the bakery. Curiosity Studio director and instructor Lauren Callis notes that traditional art museums and galleries can feel intimidating to average visitors. "I think there's a reputation around art and the spaces that hold and house art to be a little distant," she observes.
Callis uses art as a tool for public connection, and vending machines help achieve this goal. They're approachable, easy to use, and create immediate satisfaction that may exceed the excitement generated by traditional wall displays. Anyone can purchase a sticker or zine as a tangible reminder of the art they've just experienced. "It's fun, it's playful, and it helps to invite people in, making it so visitors feel like part of the exhibit," Callis explains, something she constantly considers in her work. "Not disruption, necessarily – that's too extreme a word for it. But, how do you provoke people's engagement?"
Conversely, the machines also serve those who prefer minimal social interaction. Warner describes her Unvending project as "an exercise in making art for weirdo little introverts like myself." She explains, "It's a very indirect way of connecting with people, and part of the appeal was wanting to connect with people without necessarily having the social confidence to walk up directly and hand them something."
Bench Pressed owners Jane and Andy Shannon agree with this "art for introverts" concept. During warmer months, they roll up the wide garage door facing their shop, positioning the vending machine toward the sidewalk. They've observed numerous customers purchase prints from the machine and leave without ever entering the store. "People [have] pulled up in their cars, popped a couple quarters in, and then ran back," Andy laughs.
Even these elusive customers contribute to community building. The Bench Pressed vending machine contains anti-war, pro-peace prints with messages like "stop bombing children" and "peace please." Watching people purchase these prints helps the Shannons feel less isolated in their beliefs. Even when situations seem hopeless, at least they know they're not alone in their feelings. Like zines or stickers, these mini prints serve as vehicles for rapid, inexpensive, and effective political messaging. "We definitely sold out of 'stop bombing children' instantly, and have had to reprint that one, which feels really fucked up," Jane notes. One local teacher purchased 30 "peace please" prints to distribute to her class before the school year began.
The affordability factor significantly contributes to these machines' success. Prints at Bench Pressed cost 50 cents, and prices rarely exceed one dollar elsewhere, making them accessible to virtually everyone. As Jane points out, "Where else can you get 30 of anything for $15?"
Younger demographics particularly embrace these vending machines. Children enjoy the excitement of inserting quarters and receiving something new, while young adults, especially those familiar with Ana Inciardi's food prints through Instagram or TikTok, are drawn to the viral phenomenon. "I think a big audience for this kind of work is younger folks, early 20s, who maybe aren't spending as much time in Linden Hills and wouldn't have otherwise found our shop," explains Glassman-Kaufman at France 44. "The Mini Print Vending Machine has been a new way to get them in the door, and hopefully get them to try a sandwich while they're here."
The element of surprise, particularly in machines with randomized prints, adds another layer of appeal. Customers never know exactly what their quarters will yield. Glassman-Kaufman has witnessed people spend $12 or more in quarters on the Inciardi machine, one dollar at a time, hoping to obtain a specific print. Warner compares this to "a handcrafted version of the current blind box craze. Instead of Labubus, linocuts." Callis agrees, noting that "that idea of the Russian roulette of art process – what are you gonna get? – is still such an exciting thing."
This Saturday, a new art vending machine from Nancy Ariza of Amilado Press will debut at Silverwood Park. Unlike most solo artist enterprises, Ariza's machine represents something different. At Amilado, she focuses on collaborative printing, artist residencies, and community programming with Minnesota, national, and international artists. Ariza envisioned the vending machine as a fitting extension of the press's community mission – "a way to get art out in front of new people and possibly introduce them to the idea of collecting art, at a very accessible scale and price."
Rather than featuring her own illustrations, Amilado's new vending machine will showcase works by three Latinx artists – María José Castillo, Lynda Grafito, and Genessis Lopez – collaboratively screen-printed by Ariza at her Richfield studio. All three featured artists practice printmaking and share a nature-based focus that Ariza considered perfect for the park setting. The machine's arrival coincides with Silverwood's annual Field Trip festival, featuring prints of wildlife, florals, and outdoor scenes, and will remain in the park's visitor center long after Saturday's crowds disperse.
Ariza acknowledges that certain aspects of distributing art through refurbished vending machines can be challenging. After several failed attempts with spray paint cans, she had to sandblast old, fading paint from the machine and apply powder coating. However, collaborating with and supporting other artists while providing them a platform to display their work remains a natural part of her practice, even without quarters involved. "The same care and collaboration and attention to detail is present," she emphasizes, "even though the scale is small."
