23 March 30th–april 5th, 2023 phoenixnewtimes.com phoenix new Times | cONTeNTs | feeDBacK | OPiNiON | NeWs | feaTuRe | NighT+Day | culTuRe | film | cafe | music | way. That’s the reason why I put Job in it — because the book of Job is the most epic story of loss in the Bible. So you say, ‘Okay, wait a minute. These things that I’ve been exposed to are never talked about or are something that I had to think about.’ I’m looking at that in a different way than everything in my life.” It was about more than just spirituality, though. This whole process also inspired Zeller to think especially closely about the work he’d done in the grander tradition of painting. “There were times where I was maybe more cognizant of if I’m angry or I feel depressed,” he says. “You know, a more extreme surfacing of emotions. And then oftentimes, painting was an escape from all the things I didn’t want to feel. And then I’d stare back at it and I would visualize how the colors were changing and say, ‘Why did you use that technique? Why did they use that coat or these colors on that day?’” And, perhaps most important of all, the added commitment to personal honesty made it easier to delve into his relationship with Colin. It’s a depiction that, across the course of the documentary, feels both earnest and unblinking in its depiction of a very specific sibling relationship. “First and foremost, I didn’t want to be inauthentic about how I was portraying it,” Zeller says. “I shared a bedroom with him up until I was a sophomore or junior in high school. I was there firsthand through a lot of his early days of drug addiction. If I tried to hide that, which I’m sure some of my family would have been happy about, it wouldn’t have been real.” He adds, “I think for someone to really understand why I would go through with this project, I think that it wasn’t just a sibling relationship. It was a sibling rela- tionship that included this element of drug usage, which so many more people [have] experienced as fentanyl [use] has exploded.” Part of that, Zeller says, is that given his brother’s prior military service, he felt as if he owed to other men and women who might have been in similar shoes. “I had people reach out to me,” Zeller says. “And they’d say, ‘I had some family member that was in the military, and they’re taking all these pills.’ And so even in that sense of touching on that — being a veteran and having a drug addiction — that’s really common. So I think that would’ve been a huge disservice to those watching it and probably would make it a lot worse.” But ultimately, and this may go back to Zeller’s larger comments about the “personal contemporary view,” this whole project may have been about delving into the ideas of family and community, and strengthening those bonds as a means of earnestly celebrating life. “There were times I’d go, ‘If I stopped this now, will anyone care? Will I care?’” Zeller says. “My wife was certainly instrumental in that. The one thing I don’t really share in the documentary is that it was very much a family affair. My wife and kids are experi- encing the ramifications ... And so every day I do this painting and then bring it to my kids. And they were the most interesting to hear — like, hey, what do you see in this?” Perhaps as an extension of that, Zeller also got to see how other people routinely reacted to the pieces and the project in general. “We also had someone come over to the house for some very temporary reason, and they would stop in their tracks and then start talking about [the paintings],” Zeller says. “Like, ‘Oh, I see this over here and I see this over here and I see this over here.’ And that was more enjoyable. People, these total strangers, often saying, ‘Oh, this reso- nates with me because I lost so-and-so.’” And from those initial joyous (albeit perhaps slightly strange) interactions, Zeller has been able to have greater conversations about grief. And from those, he’s found new ways to connect and uplift people. “Knowing that other people have lost someone themselves, and it makes them reflect on their own experience and their own journey, that brings total joy,” he says. “But then having people giving feedback and saying, ‘Oh my gosh, you know, this has made me do X-Y-Z more than I normally would have.’ That makes me so happy and is so validating for the project.” In addition to the movie’s release on the streaming platforms, Zeller is trying to find space to assemble the entire mosaic once again. He’s had some early conversations with “a gallery with a pretty big presence in Austin, Texas, and even Scottsdale. And I need to restart those conversations.” But there’s one venue he’s really hoping to secure. “I’m really trying to get this into the Phoenix Art Museum,” he says. “It belongs somewhere where people can see it.” Because, at the end of the day, through all the insights and new understandings, not to mention the connections with others, Zeller has learned one especially vital lesson. It’s that, for as universal as grief is, it doesn’t really start to get better until we all come clean to the one person that matters the most. “And one thing I’ve realized is that people inevitably need to get to the place where they say, ‘I’m ready. I’m ready to do something about it,” Zeller says. “No one’s ever going to talk you out of it or talk you into that moment. It’s so individualistic.” Preston Zeller A closer look at Zeller’s mosaic. Culture from p21
