Memory Stacking –
A personal loop through Joe Pease's strangely (sur)real streets

Every time I dive into Joe Pease's work, I have this uncanny feeling of recognition – like I'm gazing into something deeply personal, something strangely familiar. His latest piece, Memory Stacking, commissioned by SILK's co-founders Dino and Ambar specifically for its debut at Silk Road Bali, immediately evoked that exact sensation. Watching it, I felt as if I'd wandered onto a set designed specifically to replay fragments of my subconscious, carefully stacked and looped.

Streets of echoes

The alleyways Joe Pease chooses resemble narrow Italian streets — perhaps in Rome or Florence? It feels nostalgic yet slightly off. These streets act almost like stages, each alley a different vignette from life's strange routines. My mind instinctively connected this surreal urban setting to films like Fellini's 8½, where fantasy and reality collide in a similarly disorienting Italian landscape.

Each street seems to resemble a scenario. The way you live your life or the way your life could have gone. In every alley, there is something big weirdly present — something that normally wouldn't be there. It reminds me of a SIMS game, with floating objects above fictional characters, indicating their internal states or emotions.

The burden

The enormous floating boulder at the start is impossible to miss. This image instantly brought to mind René Magritte's surrealist style, particularly his paintings where massive, gravity-defying objects hover calmly in everyday settings. Magritte's art often challenges perceptions by placing ordinary items in extraordinary contexts, compelling viewers to reconsider the familiar.

Similarly, Pease's floating boulder creates a paradoxical tension. It hangs symbolically above everyone's heads, as if embodying the burdens we all carry but silently choose to ignore or avoid discussing. The object echoes the myth of Sisyphus, condemned to push a massive rock uphill only for it to roll back down eternally, symbolizing the perpetual struggles and repetitive cycles inherent in human existence. It's big and hanging right above [our heads], as if unmistakably foreshadowing the metaphorical burdens that will unfold in subsequent scenes.

The weight of it all

The next image of a man bent over, burdened with his desk – complete with laptop and files – is painfully relatable. Who hasn't felt crushed by their professional identity at some point? I remembered moments when my own desk felt similarly oppressive. It's Kafkaesque, echoing The Trial, where the protagonist is forever trapped in bureaucratic absurdity.

At first glance, I have to admit, I actually thought it was a big TV screen someone was trying to take home from a second-hand shop – perhaps symbolizing our fixation with screens, literally blocking the view of reality, surroundings, other people, and even the beautiful sky. Discovering it was a compressed desk deepened the metaphor: our minds so filled with work-related thoughts that our vision – literal and figurative – is obscured. Unlike entertainment's escapism, this image suggests we're crushed by our responsibilities.

Suburban fairy tales

When I saw the lawnmower stand absurdly on cobblestone streets in the next alley (you typically only see this machine on grass) beneath a hovering picket fence, it felt like stepping into a suburban fantasy movie. A thing placed into a context where it obviously doesn't belong creates a charming yet unsettling dissonance. The incongruity seems to hint at the surrealism that is lurking beneath everyday aspirations – because why do you even want certain things?

The mower for me also symbolizes domesticity and the mythology of suburbia: fencing off and owning land, reflecting capitalist feelings of property ownership. You fence off others and limit freedom, effectively boxing yourself into a restricted space.

In this part of the video work, we move from 'the rock of burdens' and 'the desk of professional responsibilities', arriving home, yet remaining equally constrained. Trying to impose order where it doesn't belong, this seems to reflect the suburban dream we've been taught – a simulation mapped onto an unsuitable terrain. In the story, I feel it marks a transition from individual burdens to collective myths imposed by society.

The only given is impermanence

An open fridge floating casually down the street is another humorous yet melancholic moment. Symbolically, it seems to represent preservation, nourishment, and containment – almost like an archive of domestic life. It might suggest how moments we strive to keep "fresh" through routines inevitably lose their flavor; memories, much like perishable foods, decay if left untouched. This imagery particularly resonates with the societal obsession with accumulation – endlessly acquiring and holding onto possessions and experiences. It brings attention to our relentless focus on maintaining and preserving everything, even though preservation is always temporary.

Yet, there's a stark truth in this overloaded fridge: you literally cannot consume everything you stockpile before it spoils, a metaphor for society's unsustainable compulsion to possess more than is necessary or healthy. The fridge floating by, overly filled and heavy, for me emphasizes this burden. As a microcosm reflecting the overwhelming abundance found in modern supermarkets, stacked with seemingly infinite varieties of products, far beyond what anyone could reasonably consume. This points to a broader critique for me: perhaps we need to let go more, to consciously discard rather than continuously gather. The refrigerator can thus symbolize a quiet plea to recognize the excesses weighing us down, nudging us toward embracing impermanence rather than futilely fighting against it.

(Suspended) potential

The alley with the vibrant yellow door and the older man holding flowers felt poignantly cinematic, immediately reminding me of the charming nostalgia and meticulous aesthetic found in Wes Anderson's films. The scene evokes a sense of suspended potential – the door itself might symbolize optimism, curiosity, or a pathway to something new, yet it remains closed, like an invitation never accepted? The flowers in the man's hands suggest romantic gestures waiting to unfold but perhaps never realized, amplifying a universal feeling of lingering regret or quiet longing – the quintessential "what if?" scenario.

I find myself particularly drawn to the man himself, dressed carefully and formally, patiently waiting with flowers in hand. Who could he be waiting for? There's something comforting and admirable about his demeanor; he appears present and at ease in his wait, fully immersed in the moment without the usual distraction of checking a phone. It feels like a welcome breather in the work, as if to say: it's still possible to stay connected and grounded in contemporary life's chaos.

Restlessness versus boundlessness

Then there's the bed – floating alongside pillows and a lamp, immediately evoking insomnia vibes. Who hasn't found themselves staring restlessly at the ceiling at 3 am, overwhelmed by life's chaotic randomness and the staggering number of unfinished tasks? It's a space where anxieties multiply, and worries swirl relentlessly, keeping sleep just beyond reach. This particular scene strongly reminds me of the visual poetry in Michel Gondry's Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, effortlessly capturing emotional restlessness and vulnerability through deceptively simple imagery.

Yet the bed also symbolizes the opposite: despite its associations with insomnia and stress, it's simultaneously a place of escape, dreams, and boundless imagination. In sleep, we can journey mentally to different worlds, liberated from the constraints and weight of our waking existence. The bed, then, becomes a threshold between two realities: one filled with overwhelming responsibilities, anxiety, and endless contemplation, and the other rich with potential, freedom, and transcendence. Perhaps Pease is subtly nudging us to consider how we navigate these nightly transitions – caught between restless introspection and the longing for release into another, lighter realm beyond the physical body and daily burdens.

Do we have a choice?

The leather chair and CRT television floating ominously immediately evoke Morpheus's iconic scene in The Matrix, a pivotal moment in cinematic philosophy. In this legendary scene, Morpheus presents Neo with a fundamental existential choice: take the blue pill to remain blissfully ignorant within a comfortable illusion or choose the red pill to confront harsh, unsettling truths of reality. This moment encapsulates the tension between passive comfort and active, often uncomfortable awareness – a tension that seems to be deeply embedded in Memory Stacking.

The floating chair and screen, symbols of comfort and passive consumption, might reflect our modern society's frequent choice of distraction over meaningful confrontation with reality. Pease might be subtly asking us: are we, like Neo, willing to question the nature of our own existence, to critically examine the structures of routine and societal expectation that bind us? Or do we prefer the seductive tranquility of remaining comfortably numb, accepting the televised version of life, distant from authenticity and self-awareness?

Escape

Or perhaps there is another way out? The suited man standing next to the white horse evokes Jungian symbolism – a direct confrontation between rationality and instinct, between civilization's structured order and the untamed wildness of nature. This scene feels like a contemporary urban retelling of a Greek myth, where heroes grapple with burdens and existential choices.

The white horse could symbolize purity, innocence, myth, and the subconscious realm, presenting itself as a potential escape from the rigidity of logic, structure, and the mundane constraints of daily life symbolized by the man in the suit. One can't help but wonder – will this man seize the opportunity, mount the horse, and escape from the relentless cycle of his 9-to-5 existence?

Crucially, at this moment the physical space in the video shifts – the once-tight and oppressive alley suddenly opens up, becoming wider and airier. This environmental transformation suggests a psychological shift: perhaps it signifies the potential for freedom, the possibility of a genuine escape from routine and structure. For the first time, there is room to breathe, offering the viewer a fleeting glimpse of otherness – a hint of liberation from the repetitive cycles that dominate the narrative.

An invitation

The wooden chair appearing in the similar wider, open street immediately evokes Marina Abramović's performance The Artist Is Present, where the artist sat silently, confronting visitors in quiet, shared introspection. Perhaps this chair, like Abramović's, is an invitation to confront oneself – an open, vulnerable seat placed deliberately to urge us into a moment of self-awareness. Sitting quietly with our thoughts can feel both essential and utterly terrifying, forcing us to face truths we often prefer to avoid.

There's a delicate bouquet of flowers resting on the chair. Intriguingly: Who left these flowers behind, and for whom? Could they represent an invitation themselves – urging us to pause, sit down, and truly appreciate life's transient beauty and fleeting opportunities? Much like the perishable items in the floating refrigerator earlier, these flowers could underline the precious yet temporary nature of experiences.

Then, notably, there's a female figure dressed distinctly in red – not casually strolling, but purposefully standing. Her appearance feels like a quiet yet powerful echo of genuine presence and awareness, standing in direct contrast to the disconnected passivity symbolized by earlier scenes.

Together, this woman in red and the inviting chair seem to appear as keys to unlocking the trap represented by the loop of endless repetition. Their presence emphasizes mindfulness, encouraging deliberate awareness and presence. Notably, the sound of the video changes here and there's a zoom in on the woman – suggesting maybe a potential breaking point, a rare chance to escape the cyclical trap of habitual existence.

Repeat

However, almost before you fully realize it, you're abruptly thrust back into the oppressive reality symbolized earlier by the man burdened with his desk. The loop resumes as if an alarm has sounded, signaling the start of yet another day entrenched in the usual. You must rise again, perform familiar tasks, walk the same streets, and reap the outcomes of your habitual choices. If the opportunity to step off the loop was missed, you inevitably return to the daily grind.

The concluding scene, therefore, is particularly poignant: numerous suited, interchangeable men, reminiscent of René Magritte's faceless figures, that seem stuck in a tunnel staring blankly into their own construct – with their backs towards what could be another route for them to take. Here, they look like lost souls trapped eternally in monotonous routines. This image also echoes the powerful symbolism of Pink Floyd's The Wall, where individuals surrender collectively to passivity and conformity. On the other hand, humorously yet disturbingly, these men might as well be lined up at a trendy brunch spot – obliviously awaiting their next superficial distraction.

This all resonates deeply with Plato's 'Allegory of the Cave' for me, where prisoners are bound to stare endlessly at shadows projected onto a cave wall, mistaking illusions for reality because they've never known anything else. The suited men similarly could embody the tragic fate of an unexamined life, trapped by everyday life and blind to deeper truths lying just beyond their immediate view. Having ignored or missed the anomalies – those rare, meaningful disruptions – they are doomed to remain within the cycle, merging individual struggles into collective rituals. Ultimately, the loop concludes not with clarity or liberation for me, but with the numbing comfort of conformity, where one becomes indistinguishable from the many, and memory becomes nothing more than ritualized repetition.

The (sunny) void

Yet there is an alternative scene – a powerful, implicit question posed by the artwork itself: what if you chose differently? What if you accepted the invitation of the chair, embraced stillness and self-awareness, and stepped outside the relentless loop of routine? What would await in this alternative, awakened reality?

All of a sudden an interlude is triggered – announced through the faltering of the video – its smooth repetition disrupted, suggesting a potential breaking point. The previously oppressive boulder then transforms into a radiant sun, illuminating the scene with a vivid, enveloping yellow glow. This vibrant yellow evokes childhood innocence, hope, renewal, and boundless joy, suggesting the possibility of starting anew. The suffocating streetscape we previously knew disappears entirely, giving way to a serene, sunny void – a symbolic blank canvas offering unlimited potential.

Within this expansive, illuminated emptiness, a single band of sky floats gracefully across the frame. Familiar figures – the horse, the suited man, the woman in red, and the chair – reappear, but now scaled down, deliberately spaced out, and thoughtfully rearranged. These elements from the main loop no longer drift aimlessly; instead, they form a surreal yet structured totem, meticulously organized as if to represent remembered burdens consciously placed aside.

The objects seem intentionally pushed together, creating openness and room for new experiences and fresh memories, distancing the viewer from the known and guiding them gently into this 'yellow unknown'. The more heavy, dramatic sound of the primary video also transitions gracefully into lighter, airy, almost celestial music, as though we have broken free and pierced through the restrictive ceiling of routine and habit.

This serene interlude – fleeting yet profoundly impactful – seems to be Pease's momentary offering of transcendence, an ephemeral glimpse of clarity and freedom before it inevitably slips away again.

Final thoughts:
looping through life

Joe Pease's Memory Stacking isn't just surreal to me – it's warmly human, even humorous in its introspection. I feel it captures something deeply familiar: the universal loops of routine, forgetfulness, longing, and the quiet absurdity of it all. Each repeated gesture, each symbolic rupture, feels like an echo of something I've experienced but rarely managed to put into words. And perhaps that's why it resonates so deeply – because it doesn't shout its meaning but invites you to find your own within it.

What sets this work apart from Pease's previous pieces is the proximity. In earlier works, we're often positioned above, looking down, observing from a 'safe' distance. There's a sense that others are caught in the cycle, and you, the viewer, are exempt. But here, Memory Stacking draws you in. It meets you at eye level. There's no distance. No detachment. You are not merely watching someone else's loop – you're in it. You're being looked at just as much as you are looking. It's quite uncanny and confrontational, but in a gentle way I feel.

For me the work asks me to recognize the floating boulders I carry, and to occasionally pause. To acknowledge the structure of our own forgetting. Because Memory Stacking doesn't seem to be just about what we remember – but about how we organize that remembering. And how, more tellingly, we structure the forgetting.

In the main loop, Pease presents a recurring architecture of labor, nostalgia, dream, distraction, and illusion. In the alternate version, he lifts the veil. A divine order emerges briefly from the repetition. A glimpse of something whole.

I think this is not surrealism for the sake of aesthetic oddity – it's spiritual choreography: a metaphysical rhythm that speaks to how we live, how we carry on, how we process time. In an age where memory is increasingly externalized, streamed, saved, and offloaded to devices, I feel Pease's work urges something very analog: to sit. To look again. To stay with the image. And to wait – not for resolution, but for rupture. Because only when the loop breaks, do we begin to understand we were ever inside one.