The resulting building is a string of micro-environments visitors pass through, as though exploring a cave. The surface-level lobby is finished in vertical planks of softly pale hemlock. People can either walk down steps that double as bleacher-like auditorium seating, or maneuver down a dark, narrow staircase chute finished in rough, craggy plaster resembling an underground grotto.

Once at the gallery level, the space dramatically decompresses into expansive, exposed concrete spaces dominated by the enormous “Jerusalem Stabile,” an abstraction of red sheet metal standing 24 feet across and 12 feet high.

Hallways branch off that show smaller works, many made of wire, and paintings of geometric and serpentine shapes. Visitors explore art-filled passageways, some that lead nowhere or loop back to the large galleries.

A pair of double doors leads to an outdoor garden below street level, where pieces like the 12-foot-tall “Knobs” tower over plantings.

Compared to many museums, Calder Gardens is relatively tight, with 18,000 square feet on 1.8-acre grounds, but the design is more akin to a haunted house composed to host small but intense experiences throughout.

“You experience one moment that then takes you to another one, and every time you have a different sensorial experience,” said Juana Berrío, director of programs. “You have many different cognitive experiences. It’s as dynamic as the building is, as dynamic as the garden is, and of course as dynamic as culture is.”