Panoramic View: We Are Our Stuff: Seeing from Above

Jennilie Brewster, We Are Our Stuff: Seeing From Above,
2011, Donated and collected miscellaneous household
materials, Site specific installation at the DCCA

Jennilie Brewstwer's installation, We Are Our Stuff: Seeing From Above, looks a little bit like the set of the musical Cats (or my desk on an average day). Crumpled up pieces of paper have been attached to the walls, books are nailed to support beams, and more than a few pieces of random detritus have been thrown together to create a chaotic, textured mass of an installation. At first glance, dear reader, it really does all look like a bunch of garbage.

The difference between the stage set and Ms. Brewster's installation (along with the absence of cat-suited actors) is that, once you look a little closer, you realize that the "stuff" on the walls isn't garbage at all. Instead, it's all the trappings of a life fully lived. Or rather, of two lives fully lived.


DCCA Curator Susan Isaacs writes: "Viewers stand in the midst of this microcosm contemplating their place in the world and the complexity of a life caught between mundane objects and the power and majesty of nature." Brewster certainly does weave a complex tapestry of the mundane and the sublime, a combination that is always sure to leave an impact on any observer. However, though this sense of shared awe allows the viewer to connect with the artist, it also has the potential to overshadow the loosely woven narrative that ties the exhibition together. Interestingly enough it is, perhaps, the reverse of this effect that seems to have pulled apart the two protagonists of said narrative.


The installation is organized into two parts. In one corner, dresses, women's shoes, and other traditionally feminine trappings dominate the space. In the other, men's clothing, dark, distressed shapes, and occasional splotches of acid-bright colors are the rule. It is in these two corners that the highest density of "stuff" can be found. The rest of the gallery acts as a common ground for the meeting and melding of the two collections of worldly goods. Tossed in among the pants, books, and crumpled paper are various notecards with poetry, thoughts, and snatches of conversation. After reading these cards, the viewer begins to realize that "we," in addition to the universality of which Isaacs writes, can refer to a man and a woman who have moved in together.

The notecards, along with an e-mail that has been placed on the wall in its entirety, give hints and clues about the two people without explicitly stating the nature of their relationship. Some of the notecards refer to a father who was in the army; others are memories of military life, but it is not clear to whom the memories belong. A series of cards refer to madness and creativity. Others refer to a relationship. These cards, along with the presence of books that reference erotica, suggest that the two people whose lives decorate the gallery's walls were in love.

Another series of cards features snatches of observations--or conversations?-- about the stars, the universe, and the infinite. The above-mentioned e-mail suggests that these cards do, indeed, refer to remembered conversations. In the e-mail, a man writes to the artist at length. He writes about the unifying power of the stars; how, in observing the same sky and stars, two separated individuals can be united. This e-mail is in response to a short, one or two sentence note from the artist about how she misses the conversations she used to have with the writer.

The two characters on this artistic stage are perfectly at home with each other in the world of stars, art, and ideas. In the real world--or, at least, the one characterized by dishwashers and ongoing battles for closet space--they have more difficulty attaining the same level of comfort. One of the ubiquitous notecards mentions that the artist has never lived with a man before--which, perhaps, explains the mentions of her father being in the military--and that "In the end that was the problem...I never felt at home (with him." The fractured presentation of this idea (the crossed out words are Brewster's and the period mine), suggests that this conclusion is not one with which Brewster is comfortable. The words that have been crossed out suggest that Brewster is not sure whether her mindset is problematic or if blame can be assigned to her roommate/lover or if the relationship is really even at an end. What, furthermore, are we to make of Brewster's willingness to include drawings made by children who are young for Brewster to be their mother?

All that is clear, really, is that the exhibition explores a relationship of some kind. Of course, given the sheer mass of information and objects in the installation, it might be possible to argue against even that possibility. Each viewer is sure to come away with a different understanding of We Are Our Stuff. The number of interpretations of the exhibit--as well as any given life--are just as infinite as the stars with which Brewster and her male acquaintance seem to have discussed so often.

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"Panoramic View" is a series of posts dedicated to stepping back and looking at exhibits at the DCCA in their entirety.


We Are Our Stuff: Seeing from Above is currently on view in the Dupont I Gallery at the DCCA and will run through May 22, 2011.