The producers of Project Runway replicate that show’s successful format almost play by play. Fourteen artists, who bunk and work together for the duration of the competition, art it out for money and a show at the Brooklyn Museum of Art. Diversity fuels reality-conflict and so you have the cocky self-taught tattooed guy, the bitchy performance artist, the perky Christian, the tortured screenprinter trying to manage his OCD and the aging feminist hippie whose “pussy” illustrations somehow offend the women who paints naked self-portraits with stars in the nether regions. There’s even a Tim Gunn-type mentor, in the form of international art expert Simon de Pury. The judges aren’t slouches either, including Pulitzer-winning Jerry Saltz. It’s bizarre and compelling, even if you can’t draw a stick figure or don’t know who Jeff Koons is, but also uncomfortable because these are all people who should be critiquing reality television, not performing on it.