No film adaptation will empty the seats of a good play, any more than a still-life will sate a fruit craving. There's just something about being there. Plus, oranges taste better than paint.

Art experienced in the moment is delicious not just for its immediacy, but for its sense of urgency. The viewer generally gets one chance. Wake up, the moment says. Pay attention. This is going away, and every time you see it henceforth will be in your memory.

What's more: Temporary art frees the creator from any obligation to the Record. The pressure of posterity makes many an artist juggle ideas till the slide-puzzle pieces click, sometimes overthinking and procrastinating a venture to death. Relieving that pressure empowers and implores her to throw her hands up -- and make something with them. Right now. For tomorrow it dies.

Salt Lake City attorney Adam Price and wife Dessi learned the value of temporary art when they created the 337 Project. In a synergistic collision of contrasting styles and ideas, a downtown building was overrun by more than 100 artists, opened to an eager public for two weekends in May 2007, and then ceremoniously demolished.

"As an artist you have to learn how to part with your art," said Chuck Landvatter, one of the artists who got their hands dirty on 337. "Seeing this impermanent, ephemeral artwork helped me to see what a lot of these street artists do every day. Their artwork will get buffed over, but it's still artwork. It may not be politically correct, but it helped me understand what art is. It doesn't have to be permanent to be art."

As for Adam, he isn't finished: "It was so much fun that we didn't want the experience to end," he said.

So now, the 337 Project is going on the road.

"One thing we learned from the original building is that a lot of people won't go to the galleries here because they don't feel comfortable walking in," Adam said. "The same people who won't go to a gallery will wait four hours to get into an art project. So we're trying to reach out to those parts of the community."

The vehicle for this outreach: a large moving truck converted into a mobile art exhibit. Adam conscripted sculptor Dan Steinhilber to install a three-dimensional piece inside while Steinhilber's wife, artist Maggie Michael, turned the exterior into a spray-painted moving canvas.

Steinhilber, whose work often recontextualizes everyday objects, has a concurrent exhibit at the BYU Museum of Art. For his truck display, the media he chose were -- fittingly -- packing materials.

With a thin sheet of plastic, Steinhilber made a truck-size plastic bag. Then he packed it into cardboard boxes and arranged it in the truck. The result: a forest of plastic bubbles that can be walked through -- and begs to be touched.

"I felt like we were sculpting the air itself, tying it down and packaging it, trying to make it into an object," Steinhilber said on a video blog entry of the Art Truck (available at thedadapress.blogspot.com).

Michael's exterior boasts a color and a monochrome side, similar in their motif of stenciled words and chains.

Last weekend, the Art Truck moved around the Broadway neighborhood, stopping at Nobrow Coffee and the Smith's Neighborhood Market parking lot, among others.

One passer-by told Adam: "I didn't expect to see an art exhibit on my way to buy hand soap."

Where will it pop up next? No one knows, including its proprietor.

"There's something great about it being a chance encounter," Adam said. "If it's something you decide to go see, it starts looking more like a gallery."

For the curious, however, Adam has created a Twitter account (twitter.com/337Project) and will update it when the truck makes an appearance. Sometimes. Web surfers can also subscribe to the project's newsletter at www.337project.org.

About 20 elementary schools are wait-listed for Art Truck appearances. Adam is seeking volunteer drivers to help meet the demand

As time goes on, the art installations will be rotated out. None of it is permanent.

Local artist Trent Alvey has collaborated on multiple 337 incarnations, including an installation of 3-D and garage-door art at west-side day care center Neighborhood House. She has noticed that 337's transience and theme of collaboration is infusing the local art world with some of its energy.

"The art community is quite a lot more fun since Adam came to town," she said.

Let's recap what we've learned: When preservation stops being a crucial part of art, it sheds is sterility. It can be lived in, tried on, and worn out.

Temporary art is artists creating for the love of creation. Collaboration is artists knocking stylistic boots. The progeny is unpredictable. And the spirit of the 337 Project continues to play its part.