Julie Cook’s Bromfield art class sketches objects found in Gal Martin’s exhibit during a class visit. (Courtesy photo)ion

Gail Martin is the artist behind Precious: A Year of Looking at my Stuff. Bit by bit, she created small paintings of everything from wastebaskets to sleepy cats. These paintings are snapshots of her life, her house, her belongings. It was a deeply rewarding collection of work to experience firsthand. I began to interact with it by walking quickly across the room, zigzagging and letting a single small painting surprise me, greet me as it rose up from the background. Objects would transform into something else; fantastic objects would become mundane, and mundane objects would become magical. I started cold and grew warm. Whom could I thank for this?

Last week, I was lucky enough to make contact with the brilliant minds behind the nonprofit community association For Art’s Sake. They are Melissa Yahia, Bess Haire, and Pam Cochrane. We met in the beautiful space above The General Store where “Precious” has been shown. We discussed everything under the sun, but especially Gail Martin’s exhibit and the unique mission behind For Art’s Sake. As I was to learn, “Precious” was but one of many projects to be “held up” by an organization that encourages local artists, celebrates the creative impulse that exists within everyone, and hopes to be a catalyst for innovation in the town. I came for an interview and fell headfirst into the “idea funnel” that For Art’s Sake embodies.

It soon became clear that the revelatory power of artwork is For Art’s Sake’s chosen terrain. Gail’s work felt cold, antiseptic to me at first. But as I fell deeper into the morass of her stuff, I began to develop a sense of who was behind this project. A relentless spirit that catalogued, and a seeking spirit that could never quite be satisfied. Together, we wondered: what had Gail done?

Will Squire and Patrick Sullivan point to a cat painting they found during a search game at Gail Martin’s exhibit “Precious—A Year of Looking at My Stuff” at the General Store. (Photo by Lisa Aciukewicz)

Many fascinating ideas came to the fore. Pam suggested that Gail might have intended to put some distance between herself and the objects in her life. Expunging desire is a Buddhist ideal, and the project was in many ways an actualization of Gail’s beliefs. But there is a certain element of risk that excites me: what if she failed, what if she gave in? What if she worshipped her objects, instead of presented them as neutrally as possible? Or was part of the beauty of her project that ambiguity, the possibility that desire would only be partially destroyed?

The plot thickened. Melissa spoke of how Gail’s artwork celebrates “a beauty in the mundane.” To me, the works represent an outsized sense of fun as well. Many of her photographs seem to have been taken on a pure impulse, a devilish desire to throw something in front of us that we would never dignify with the label “art.” But these are the things that sustain us and surround us.

Bess elaborated on this angle by noticing that Gail’s paintings depict “things people don’t elevate,” the everyday objects such as countertops, railings, lamps, carpets—things our eyes pass hundreds of times without really registering. Is it a survival tactic of ours, this dismissal of some objects? Do we shut out these objects due to sheer boredom, because to individually acknowledge the constant, unchanging things about our surroundings might drive us nuts? These high-use, high-traffic, worn-down, dog-eared objects have a nobility all their own. These sofas, pans, room corners, and toothbrushes bear the brunt of our humanity. And they never complain (not a squeak out of my toothbrush in six weeks, in fact).

I had the overwhelming impression of a creative faucet gushing ideas as our discussion rolled on. Pam drew our attention to the central importance of “clarity and obscurity” in the context of “Precious.” Perhaps by staring into a dense fog, we achieve new epiphanies. Here, we create clarity for ourselves: a personal enlightenment that feeds upon difficult questions and outlandish solutions. I learned of one visitor to the exhibit who was courageous enough to ask for more. He was not afraid to speak up about his curiosity, to say that what was on display was not enough, that he needed more. Gail also brought this out of people. And although one man was brave enough to ask a question, most of us aren’t comfortable enough in the realm of art to interact at all.

For Art’s Sake exists to help people ask those questions, to develop muscles of artistic appreciation, of fearlessness with our ideas and the ideas of others. The creative superheroes of Harvard aren’t done yet. They will leave this space and show up somewhere else. Melissa aptly referred to it as “divine timing.” This dynamic group views every Harvard resident as hidden genius, and will not stop until they have summoned forth the talents of every recluse among us.