Day Two, Monday

Pace House Residency

I came here with a small handful of rock solid projects, all of them manifesting into videos or photographs, eventually, but I have so far spent much of my time making images I had never intended to make. I always have to ask myself why am I making this photograph, (or video/sculpture/installation/etc) and I have serious psychological barriers that prevent me from creating things when given the opportunity to spontaneously and creatively make work. As an example, Kathleen and Elanor went into town yesterday, and I spent much of the afternoon working on a couple of pieces of work I had been planning on making before I got here, but I also began work on some things that were presented to me after we arrived and I began to get both familiar and comfortable with our new temporary surroundings. I was out back of the house, exploring the woods that line the edge of the property, and I took notice of the compost pile that sits alongside the vegetable garden of the Pace House. I became instantly in awe of the compost heap, its decomposing beauty illuminated by the grey, late afternoon light filtering through the coastal rain clouds. My mind instantly thought “Why, Brett, you should take a photograph of this,” while the other part of my mind simultaneously said, “Why the hell would you take a picture of this? It has absolutely no bearing on the rest of your work.”  My body, ignoring all logical advice from my mind, made a gut reaction and ran inside the house and grabbed my tripod so I could begin setting up the picture.

This situation is a common example of the dilemma of my practice. I have a natural urge to create things, as much as possible and as frequently as I can. I also have a strong desire to only make things that have purpose and conceptual relation to the rest of what I do. So as you can imagine, when one is motivated to make pictures of a pile of decaying food resting in the grass out beyond an old house, you can maybe only imagine the conundrum that arises.

Needless to say, I made the image, for better or for worse, and it may be nothing more than a personal exercise, or it may become something that re-enforces other works I have made or yet to make and I am just not aware of it now. I already have noticed an interest in this house as a museum of sorts. It is as if Stephen and his wife just walked out one day, leaving things intact: his studio seems alive as it ever was, except for maybe wet splotches of paint.  All sorts of personal items can be found in the cupboards and closets throughout the house. Along with the compost heap, I’ve been making images of various items that show both time and life frozen in their material conventions. It’s odd, because I have been thinking a lot about my work with regard to anthropology lately, largely because my work is significantly influenced by cultural artifacts such as movies and music. In a way, I am acting the part of the anthropologist here in this house, creating records of the past lives that have lived here or spent time here, and am using these records as meditative tools in the creation of new work.