Bricks

Ongoing Project

Nikon D780 & Google Pixel 7 pro

Bricks, (A Derridean Fragment)

I hold a brick in my hand. Heavy. Red. Rectangular. But even here, in this solid certainty, there is a crack.

A brick is not a brick. Not exactly.

It is the sign of something built, but also the threat of collapse.

Laid with care, it speaks of permanence. Thrown, it speaks of rupture.

Swung, in a sock, even if halved, it speaks of power.

Between bricks, mortar. Between words, silence.

The structure is only ever a suggestion. Meaning always leaks.

There is no first brick.

No final brick.

Only this: a stacking of traces, a choreography of absences.

The brick is not the wall.

The wall is not the house.

The house is not the home.

The home is not the memory.

The memory is not the thing.

But still—I hold the brick.

Like a thought I cannot place.

Like a truth I do not trust.

Like something my grandfather might have touched.

A brick carries the weight of the hand that made it,

the fire that baked it,

the house it left behind.

And even as I press it into the shape of now

I know it is always falling apart..

• Edited extract from Bricks Are Heavy Photo-Zine