Daniel
Peet
Resonance
photography, 6 x 8" |
I recently moved to the east side of Saint Paul from Minnetonka.
I moved with my two children, and was married to my new wife
in our home. A deep piece of who I am was stirred by this idea
of having a piece of land that was mine, which led to a new
appreciation of history, a minor history, the threads of which
when added together one by one start to form a piece of something
that can be felt down in the fibers of who we are. A very rich
feeling of connectedness of lives being lived in houses beyond
the sight of the outside world, heroic little battles of blue-collar
men and women that cannot possibly end up in any history book,
but remain equal to the grander events put to pages. It is these
events and it is this sense, like an invisible river of time
that I somehow am able to navigate.
Through and Through
photography, 6 x 8" |
I shoot with thirty-five millimeter black and white film
and a flash. I shoot in the evening, often after midnight,
on foot, letting whim or intuition guide me. Walking in darkness
is a time when beings are often sleeping but their counterparts,
the other objects that make up this landscape, seem somehow
sentient. It is this whispering collection of things, none
too mundane or broken down, all somehow equal here, that I
try to listen for and record.
These forays into shadows at times put flesh to the bones
of this nether world. In the first part of December of this
last year I was approached by eight young men in the parking
lot of Rainbow Foods on Arcade Avenue. It was midnight, and
they asked why I was taking pictures. I attempted to explain
but their faces changed and they raced at me with fierce quickness.
I broke towards the door of Rainbow, hoping to elude them,
but the door was locked. The only thing then was the experience
of deep blows to every part of my body. I lost count knowing
only that there were fists and feet and a pipe striking me.
Silence, and one boy pulled a twenty-two rifle crudely sawed
off to resemble a pistol and aimed it at my head. The others
behind him were chanting “Shoot him, shoot him.”
In some sort of fuzzy reaction, I knocked the pistol away
for a second; at that very same time, an employee from another
store blinked her lights. I blurted out, “See, there’s
the cops.” They disappeared as quickly as they had arrived.
My face was a mask of blood, and every inch of me felt wrong
and painful. I recovered and went back a week later at that
very time and took a self-portrait telling whomever that I
would not tire, not give in, not come undone, not withdraw.
I will, night by night, walk and listen for the whispers of
history and record humankind’s unseen struggle for life.
Nightshift
photography, 6 x 8" |
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