Caleb Witvoet /
Two Tall Trestles
12/7/20
01 - About the Artist
Caleb Witvoet received his BFA in Jewellery and Metals from the Alberta University of the Arts in 2020, receiving the Board of Governors Graduating Student Award. Unbeknown at the time, prior work in home renovation would become the theoretical framework for his emerging contemporary Craft practice. The Calgary foundation awarded him a grant in 2017 to repair jewellery for the Open Door Seniors Fellowship of Calgary at no cost to its members. Most recently, Caleb Witvoet exhibited at the L.A. Pai Gallery in Ottawa where he won the 17th Annual National Jewellery Student Competition.
Caleb Witvoet
02 - About the Work
Lived experiences have a tendency to permanently mark our bodies, from harmless wrinkles to deep rooted cancers. This seems to me the essential quality of living. I want to focus on markings from slow burning experiences, long lasting and rewarding endeavours in life. There are a few violent and sudden marks on my body but dwelling there delays the long journey after. I like to think that the crows feet which adorn my eyes are a measure of joy, a medley of laughter and fun in the sun. I know there is tension in those wrinkles but joy is not diminished by pain as is the case with happiness. This joy is the endurance of those weathered and worn in life.
The grey skin of this wood is a result of its weathering: a natural process of exposure to rain and UV radiation from the sun. The process happens slowly at such a small scale that human perception of this weathering is more idea than event. It is a patina well earned, a testament to resilience which deepens the colour of wood grain beneath. I am not validating the presence of pain, I want to empower those who are vulnerable.
Character, “The Two Tall Trestles” series, pallet wood, 2020.
Work In The Eve, “The Two Tall Trestles” series, 2020.
“Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Yeah. Me neither.”
“At least I’m not alone.”
“You mean at least we have each other. Try to be optimistic.”
“Sounds kind of pessimistic to me, if that’s all we have.”
“That’s all we need.”
“So I guess we are ready after all.”
“As we’ll ever be.”
I was working in the river valley of Edmonton when a white tailed buck stopped by. You can make him out near the tree line directly above the right-most sawhorse. He was bounding West, pursuing the setting sun. I was on my way home eastward. I had been drawn to work in this beautiful place from previous excursions but unlike before, I was made aware of my position in comparison to that of the deer. I am a settler in this land but I don’t want to further contribute to that tradition. These trestles were once pallets, were once wooden boards, were once native trees upon the land exploited as a resource for building. This moment with the deer solidified in me the potential for this work to subvert a colonial tradition through the act of dismantling its product (the pallet) and to repurpose as structures in protest.
Face East, “The Two Tall Trestles” series, 2020.
Inspired, “The Two Tall Trestles” series, pallet, sawhorses, 2020.
Which came first: the _______ or the ___? I think it must have been the seed and then the tree. You meant to say the pallet or the sawhorse? I’m not sure because I saw them both at the very same time and before that they didn’t exist eh. Like the tree that falls in the forest and nobody hears it. That’s based on a perceived human experience and discounts every single other non-human experience of the world. The tree had its own embodied experience of falling which I think is way more relevant than if anybody hears it with their ear, be it human or animal.
Oh, you were just kidding about the chicken or the egg thing? Yeah, me too buddy.
Sawhorses Settling In, “The Two Tall Trestles” series, 2020.
I like this shot for a few reasons. Their silhouettes at night feel like a conclusion. The work is done and the sawhorses could be finished soon, as in a fairytale when the clock will strike twelve and their true form is realized. The moment of anticipation. But in this case the sun will fall and rise again on the same sawhorses. They are never truly finished, they are the supports for future action. From this angle the sawhorses hold a dramatic power over me. It is a proud pose but I think the role of a sawhorse is a humble one: to bear the process of work upon its own construction. This image amplifies that purpose, they are freestanding, alive to a degree.
Two Tall Sawhorses, “The Two Tall Trestles” series, pallet wood, plywood, galvanized steel, 41.5”x 40”x 14” 2020.
Throughout the show you have seen the sawhorses but without much to give you a sense of their scale (though many of you may be familiar with the proportions of a 2”x4”). That is the beautiful deceit of a photograph, able to enforce a limited perspective. Weird though it is, the sawhorses in this photo pop up above the cutout buildings behind yet somehow look like miniatures of themselves trying to be bigger. Maybe it’s the jeweller in me, my inherent affinity for the mini.
Catching Your Breath, “The Two Tall Trestles” series, 2020.
Many Places of Rest, “The Two Tall Trestles” series, pallet, fence, 2020.
This is the moment of distraction, a break away from the labor of an active process. A detailed visual pull that reconnects the self within the present time and place.
The pallet was resting on this property when we met, some odd extension of the fence. I remember coveting the long fence boards for their deep weathered grey. A horizontal fence like this one is like a slow cooker for antique wood because it exposes the wood to the weathering of the sun and rain, able to dry suspended off the ground. Though I wanted the fence boards, their purpose was already defined while the uneasy pallets set this place apart. I asked for permission from the owner and they gave me the go-ahead.
The pallet was a curmudgeon at first, in a fit of self pity, demanded to be left alone, threatening tetanus and a good fight. I pushed on through the work, removing jutting nails and prying evenly across the boards as I knew how. That is how I earned the pallet’s respect as it eased into new purpose. Years back, it had been comfortable retired by the fence but rot had settled in where its wood met the ground. It took time to build our trust.
Two by Four, “The Two Tall Trestles” series, pallet wood, steel nails, 2020.
Valley, “The Two Tall Trestles” series, 2020.
I did not make the sawhorses in this photo nor do I own them. These are borrowed from an elder artist in my life who made them with her late husband. Together they made many sawhorses and many more projects from them. I made my own inspired pair at a height measured to suit me and which could stack neatly when not in use. Thank you for your support[s]!
I am a body which casts a long shadow over this land. I wonder about how to address that in a constructive way. I think the answer lies in collaboration, or otherwise working together to support healing. Despite working solely as the artist I was not separate from bodies larger than myself; the land, the trees, and other contributing communities which have supported this project. The trestles seem to me an apt symbol for collaboration and I’m going to keep building off of them for that purpose.
