Other People's Keys

three wee keys

Wed, 12 Aug 2009 19:00:00 -0400

from Hayley, who was a child liked to play with anything grown-up, including keys. she sent a letter in October and another in late December, and now I have sent something back to her and it is August.

"... no matter how big the door is, you are ready to open it."

Tue, 11 Aug 2009 15:00:00 -0400

From the wonderous Yoshiki, who sent the keys wrapped in his physics exam, on which he scored excellent marks.

From Courtney, a fellow collector of keys

Mon, 10 Aug 2009 11:00:00 -0400

"It may bring you luck..."

Sun, 09 Aug 2009 16:00:00 -0400

Dear Beth,

Here is my key…

It may bring you luck…

It may bring you sadness…

It has brought me both…

I guess it evens itself out…

It is quite ordinary…

But very special also…

The key has traveled with me for many, many years now…

From here on out it will travel with you, my dear Beth.

Much love,

Lorraine

Keys of Failure and Success and Hope

Sat, 08 Aug 2009 10:00:00 -0400

Dear unknown Beth

I’m rather at a loss how to start this. Quite some time ago now, I read your blog asking for other people’s keys. I absolutely loved the idea of collecting the keys— so full of symbols!— and stories of complete strangers.

That day, I decided to send you my keys of Failure and with them my (tearful, rather childish) story of how I failed to learn playing the cello. Then life when on, and I met people, making a new friend (a rare thing for me); and she fully understood and convinced me it’s not easy to keep practicing a difficult instrument, especially as a full-time student, and made me go on.

That day, I decided to send you my keys of Success. Again, life went on, and I never got around to actually writing this letter. I write it today though, not because of my struggle with music that I’ve found out will probably never end, and that’s o.k. It’s o.k. (you probably taught me that.) I will practice and I won’t practice, and if I can keep a balance to these phases, it will be alright.

I write this now to take my mind off tomorrow. This side of the globe, that’s a Monday; and I’ll start my secure job in a huge library in the department of medieval manuscripts and early printings. I’m studying this stuff, and I love old books, so it should be heaven. But I’m a bit scared, too. No, that’s wrong. I’m completely, utterly terrified.

I’ve never worked at such a place, and I’m bad with people and unfamiliar surroundings. I’m afraid at doing mistakes and embarassing myself. And I wonder if this feeling ever stops? I’ve turned 22 last week, still living at home, never worked at a serious place. My heart is racing when I think about tomorrow, and I know it will be worse when I’ll be there, it will be horrible, sweaty palms, thumping heart, tiny voice, trembling hands. Every step on my way up those huge stairs, I will wish to just be home again.

But, and that’s basically why I write to you, why I’m telling you this (and not, say, call my best friend and open my heart to her), somehow thinking of you and all your second family of artists out there makes me feel better. It makes me feel better to know that it’s normal to make mistakes, that this doesn’t go away, miraculously, when you grow up. It makes me feel better to know that I can always turn around again in my life and choose a radically different way. I can don fancy clothes and become a librarian, or I can cut my hair, dye it pink and turquoise again and sell my own fashion line. Or do something else instead, like write all those unfinished novels and live on a houseboat in Amsterdam.

I know I can do this because you showed me it’s possible.

And so… I’m sending you the keys of Self-doubt and Fear and Hope. They’re the keys to my cello case, which I’ve never locked. Turn them into something beautiful.

xxx

Deike

July 20th 2009

Rebekah's Lockpicks

Fri, 07 Aug 2009 13:00:00 -0400

Beth-

Enclosed are a homemade set of lockpicks that I made when I was fourteen. To try to prevent me from sneaking out, my mom put a lock on my bedroom door with a double sided keyhole—and she had the only key. Of course, she underestimated my desire to get out of her house every night.

I’m all grown up now and have no more need for them, but for some reason I’ve never been able to just throw them away. Thus, they have made their way to you.

So, not a conventional key, but they unlocked the door to freedom all the same.

Love,

Rebekah

Photo

Thu, 06 Aug 2009 13:00:00 -0400

The Monstrous Key Owner/Thief

Wed, 05 Aug 2009 21:00:00 -0400

It must have been in the early 2000s, if not 1999, when I first moved to Massachusettes. Being only around 9 or 10, this was only my first or second time in a big city like Boston. I remember that on the edge of a fountain, near a huge building (now I assume it must have been a building of apartments), I found this monster key. I justified taking it because it was in plain sight for anyone to take (and of course there’s the rule of “finder’s keepers”). After I took it home, I realized that taking this key may have actually left someone in anxiety for the loss of their key. With a little regret, but mostly out of pride for my first rebellious act, I stuck this oversized key on a tiny little purse up until now, months before my 18th birthday. Only recently did I unearth my purse and find this key again. On behalf of the mysterious previous owner, I hope this reminds you (or anyone else) not to leave oversized keys where little girls can take them!

Best Regards,

The Monstrous Key Owner/Thief

once upon a time in italy

Tue, 04 Aug 2009 10:00:00 -0400

(note: it’s worth pointing out that Sylvia K, who sent this key, is a tremendous artist. she is modest on the internet, but her work is worth seeking out, and she did a beautiful portrait of me that can be seen here.)

Once upon a time, in a small town in Italy (constantly plunged into fog), there was a little girl in a pretty red coat. She felt lost, lonely, clinging tight to her stuffed animals. All the time, she drew. But she was somehow ashamed of it, and hurriedly hid her sketches in a locked drawer. No… that little girl was me. I have been sharing my art (in fact, giving it away too… I own very little of it) for years, and it’s the most beautiful feeling ever. Therefore, I don’t need the key to my secret drawer anymore. I’m sure you’ll have a better use for it.

-Sylvia K

the key to the garden

Mon, 03 Aug 2009 16:00:00 -0400

Dear Beth,

This key used to open the door to the garden in my building. We lost our home in 2005, and were rehoused in a really nasty area. I fought hard to get out.

When I got the letter saying we could move I jumped for joy and twisted my ankle. Good, eh?

I’m grateful every day for living here and for the garden. Despite living almost in the city centre, it’s huge, full of trees and my wee boy and I often see squirrels, magpies and all sorts of other creatures.

They changed the lock a little while ago (and neglected to give me a new key…), and so it seems right and proper to send you the old key. I hope it’s not too heavy for your dental floss.

Love,

Julie

"God bless central heating."

Sun, 02 Aug 2009 22:06:51 -0400

January 28th, 2009

My dear Miss Hommel,

This rather humble key belonged to a medium-sized oak chest that I ended up using for firewood. It was a dark and stormy night, the kind of night that makes a lone—and rather chilly— pilgrim take a crowbar to antique furniture in order to feed a dying fire. The crowbar was not only necessary to take the chest apart, but also necessary to get into the damn thing You see, my dear, the key went missing many months prior and was finally located way after its partner had been immolated. Now, where was the key? Why, it was inside a filing cabinet that was locked tight… with half a key stuck in the lock for good meaure.

And so the key was orphaned. A sacrifice in the wintertime… it was either her or me. Upon breaking the chest, the contents were revealed: four bottles of whiskey, books on subjects from farriery to Freemasonry, a fob pendant with a photograph of a dapper Victorian gentleman with a fussy moustache, his journal from 1882, a set of silver front knives, a pair of pince-nez, a small brass inkwell from Vienna (which is being implemented in this letter), and a Chinese puzzle box.

I stumbled upon this key today, whilst looking for whiskey in a drawer. I’m much warmer these days. God bless central heating.

My personal regards,
Max

p.s. I also include this little fellow as a bonus. I’m sure you can figure him out.

Other People's Keys... it's not dead

Sun, 22 Feb 2009 23:17:04 -0500

For those of you who think this is totally tl;dr, here are a few bullet points:

1.) If you sent me a key and then you moved, email me (beth hommel at gmail) your new address so I can send you a THING.

2.) Yes, I am still accepting keys. Probably when I am an old lady I will still be collecting keys. My house will be full of keys. I think I sealed my fate the night I got that first one tattooed on my arm.

3.) I am going to be updating this blog with photos of the keys I’ve gotten. Yay! Watch this space for yours.

4.) I love you.

—-

So. I haven’t updated this blog in ages, but let me tell you… there’s so much to be said.

I cannot believe how many keys have come in the mail. Here’s a stack of key letters I still need to photograph, respond to, and string:

It’s intimidating! But I’m going to get through them, because these keys and stories are too good not to be shared.

While I was on tour, people gave me keys not in envelopes. Not all of these have people or stories to go with them. Do you recognize your keys?

Other things worth talking about: YES, I am still accepting keys, even with the backlog, even with the threatening-to-take-over-my-life nature of this project. I love this. So much.

And other people seem to love it too. Here’s some KEY ART that people have made for me (and there’s more than I need to photograph and put her, including SHIRTS from Cynthia and Hayley and a beautiful painting by Lucy and another beautiful painting by Kayla and a beautiful pastel drawing by Lauren and probably 10 others I am forgetting.)

This is by the fucking awesome Sylvia K:

This poem is by the fantastic Hayley:

This song (“The One About Keys”) is by the legendary Edgar Gonzalez, Jr. (I cannot wait to hear this in person):

And this (“Orphans”) is by the incredibly talented and just plain incredible Kayla Oberlin (ditto):

I love that so much art—- for me and for others. I love that so many of you are reaching out with your keys and stories, which are fucking amazing.

I love life.

I love you.

Love (obviously),

Beth

From Des. She gave this to me at a show in Brooklyn. I was...

Sat, 04 Oct 2008 13:39:53 -0400

From Des. She gave this to me at a show in Brooklyn. I was five Jaeger shots in, so I don’t remember if there’s a story… but I think she said there wasn’t.

From Amanda. Although it’s not breaking in if you give...

Sat, 04 Oct 2008 13:23:00 -0400

From Amanda.

Although it’s not breaking in if you give me a key, now is it?

This key is from Mark. He writes: “So, to make this...

Mon, 29 Sep 2008 18:02:00 -0400

This key is from Mark. He writes:

“So, to make this shorter, here is the key to a black Julius Keilwerth alto saxophone that has sat in a closet in my parent’s house for 3+ years. I’m still a dork in college, just a non-saxophone playing one.”

I love that Mark prefaced his letter (which is abridged here, because some things I keep just for me) by saying that he isn’t a great storyteller, but in half a page he managed to tell me more than I would learn about him if we met on the street.

Keys 1. From Angeleena in California. These were the first...

Sun, 24 Aug 2008 00:16:29 -0400

Keys 1. From Angeleena in California. These were the first keys to arrive. She wrapped them in a page from something she’d written. (via bethhommel)

So, the keys have started to arrive. I am… stunned.. at what I am getting in the mail. Not...

Fri, 22 Aug 2008 19:09:00 -0400

So, the keys have started to arrive.

I am… stunned.. at what I am getting in the mail. Not just the keys, but the STORIES of the keys. I love this. This is an amazing, unexpected light in my life.

We are making ART together. I didn’t even know it.

(I am also sad, because apparently keys that are not wrapped in something do not go through the mail that well. A couple of letters arrived torn open with no keys. For those of you who haven’t yet sent them, wrap the keys in several sheets of paper or just cover the ENTIRE envelope in clear packing tape. That will do the trick.)

I have decided to document the keys and stories I get in the mail on this blog.

For those of you who have already sent keys, I am assembling your packages of things tonight. Presents in the mail.

Love,
Beth

I have what I think is a fun game.I have started collecting keys. They’ve been coming into my...

Fri, 15 Aug 2008 03:13:00 -0400

I have what I think is a fun game.

I have started collecting keys. They’ve been coming into my life in droves. I find them on the street and in the pockets of jackets I don’t remember wearing.

I want more. I want to hang them from my ceiling with dental floss to create strange upside-down key forests. The wind will blow and they’ll make music.

I’ll be prepared to open any locked door I might encounter.

So I will make you a deal.

Send me a key to something. A stray you’ve had hanging about since you changed the locks or something old you found in your grandmother’s jewelry box or the key to the Camaro your ex-boyfriend totaled three summers ago.

(Tips: Tape the key to an index card and then fold paper around it. Cover the entire envelope with packing tape so it doesn’t rip open.)

When I get your key, I will take a photograph of it and post the photograph along with the story you send on this blog.

I will also send something back to you. I’m not sure what it will be, but I will wander around my apartment and I will put things into envelopes and I will put stamps on the envelopes and mail them to you.

This will be fun.

Beth Hommel
345 Eldert St. #310

Brooklyn, NY 11237

Yes, I just posted my address on the internet. When I was a kid, EVERYBODY’S address was in the telephone book.

Love,
Beth