This text by SIMON BROWN is published alongside LORNA BAUERS What Is Not But Could Be If exhibition.

To break
To cause to separate into pieces suddenly or violently. To precipitate the cause whereby something would be separated into pieces suddenly or violently. To encourage circumstances that would be conducive to sudden or violent separation. To indicate to an acquaintance that circumstances conducive to sudden or violent separation might be present in a given situation. To separate the cause whereby something would be separated suddenly or violently from the circumstances wherein that separation might take place. To indicate to an acquaintance the time and place where such a separation might occur. To not necessarily be physically present at the time and place where the separation occurs, but to ask the acquaintance to describe the circumstances that have made possible the aforementioned sudden or violent separation. To doubt the veracity of the acquaintance’s account of what has occurred and what circumstances were present that would allow such a sudden or violent separation to occur. To however be certain that some sort of violent or sudden separation has occurred, and to keep the knowledge of this certainty a secret for later on, just in case.

Making a picture might possibly be putting something back together again, in some sense
We know, from experience or from what we have been told, that broken things can be put back together again. Not all broken things, but most of them all the same. Sometimes the things look like they did before they were broken, but often they do not. Sometimes the desire for the things to look the way they did before they were broken trumps the knowledge of the fact that they most probably will not look that way, which is to say they remain in a state of being broken. Other times the awareness that they will look differently when put back together again can be accepted and on rare occasions the things that have been broken and put back together again can be seen as being more interesting or even more physically attractive in their present, repaired state. In the end, however, seeing the broken things as being more interesting or physically attractive in their present state is a moot point; the fact is, they are still broken.

A picture of what appears to be an empty room
Sometimes it is better to be alone in an empty room. Despite all the supposedly fascinating objects and allegedly interesting people that could be there with you, often just the empty room is better. If fascinating objects and interesting people do happen to be in the room, it is probably better to take the objects out and make the people leave, rudely if necessary. If the interesting people complain about being made to leave the room, you can hit them in the head with the fascinating objects, provided they are heavy and blunt enough. Then you can stand, sit, or lie alone in the empty room, at least until the interesting people return and the fascinating objects are put back in, both of which will probably happen sooner or later. Nevertheless, until then, it is better to be alone in the empty room.

SIMON BROWN was born amongst cows, grew up amongst trees and now lives amongst people, buildings and machines. His interest is sparked by the most banal aspects of life as well as the most abstruse manifestations of its essence. He is also completing an MFA at Concordia University in Montreal, where he mostly writes things.