SOON, issue 22: Trey Burnart Hall is 'Taking Care'
"I now have a quality over quantity relationship with art and see revision as a true form of creative self-care."
Welcome to Something Out of Nothing, a newsletter about meaning—making it, finding it, offering it. I talk about the writing life, teaching, thrifting, books, travel, obsessions and idle interests, and much more.
‘Taking Care’ is a questionnaire about how we manage our inner and outer lives as creative people. Trey Burnart Hall is a musician, writer, and community builder, bringing folks together to support & celebrate art-making here in Richmond. I’ve known Trey in passing for several years, and have remained in awe of his devotion to creating and collaborating, often giving over the spotlight to another artist’s efforts. He’s one of those folks who live and breathe art-making in the everyday—the dogged pursuit, practice, and ever-evolving process of figuring out how to connect with the world through your work: he’s fearless. As you’re about to discover, Trey is a true interdisciplinary artist, and I am in awe of his equally persistent ambition and generosity.
Trey Burnart Hall is a nonfiction and poetry student at Virginia Commonwealth University’s MFA in Creative Writing program, as well as the lead podcast editor of Blackbird: an online journal of literature and the arts. He is from Botetourt County but has been based in Richmond for over a decade. Trey is a musician, producer, educator, and community organizer. His writing has been published in Cold Mountain Review and Oregon Hill Review, and his production work and collaborations through his label, Vocal Rest Records, have been nominated for the Folk Alliance International Album of the Year, among other honors, and his academic work has been published in the Journal of Inclusive Postsecondary Education. He lives in the Southside of Richmond with his partner, Gray, and pup, Waylon.
Trey! What are you working on?
Writing: A memoir/hybrid collection, Songs I Can’t Sing.
Music: Recording The Crooked Creek Misfits debut.
Organizing: Chair of the Gallery5 Parallel Listening Series & organizer of EarthFolk Old Time Jam.
Archival Photography: Coffee table book titled Wickline Speed Shop is now available. The book has photos of my family members who were first-wave motorcyclists, spanning the 1930s to 1980s. (Before becoming a book, this archival photography project was an exhibition at the Alexander Heath Contemporary Art Gallery and Black Iris Social Club. Also, it’ll be featured in the 2025 Born-Free Motorcycle Show in Silverado, California.)
What is something you once thought about yourself that you no longer do?
I thought I was a singer. But life had other plans. I developed a vocal disability after a traumatic injury while singing in my band Dharma Bombs at Strange Matter (RIP). Though after enough surgeries I am able to sing on occasion and am grateful to play one intimate songwriter show a year, I’ve also found other mediums that feel like a more true voice or representation of self. My entire identity was founded in my singing voice, so that’s something I will likely grieve for the rest of my life, but I’m also grateful for the way that limitation has pushed me creatively to collaborate, write in new ways, and hone my traditional music chops as a mandolinist.
When is bedtime?
Bedtime is so early that I’m embarrassed to put it in writing. But I always like to wake up as early as my body will stop snoozing. I generally have an alarm for 6AM and on good days I spring to attention and on the not-so-good days I still get up within half an hour. The morning is my most creative time, the hours where I generally can write from a place of freedom rather than judgment.
What’s a habit or behavior that feels like taking care of yourself?
Playing mandolin. Especially since developing my vocal disability and my Dad’s passing, the mandolin has been a way to lose myself in melody. I’d drifted from the instrument for a few years, but my partner, Gray, pushed me to focus more on playing again and learning tunes. I grew up going to fiddler’s conventions and Appalachian string band music has always been a part of my life, so this felt like a true return. When I pick up the mandolin and either lose myself in an old-time tune or stretch out melodically exploring the fretboard, the weightlessness is what I imagine folks feel in those weird float pods/tanks.
What did taking care of yourself look like in your twenties?
That’s a complicated question. I had a self-destructive run in my twenties until the vocal injury (and it lingered a while after, still resurfacing every now and again). But the last few years of my twenties were in and out of vocal operations and attempting to mend my vices. There’s still plenty of work left to do, but I’m grateful my old forms of “self-care” haven’t hung around. Though I don’t regret my nights turning shots at Proper Pie and Mojos, I’ll always have a complicated relationship with the beauty/burden of barroom banter and the ways a row of stools can create/destroy community. The quality of my creative work has grown with newer, healthier habits. In my twenties, I was “prolific,” producing songs, essays, poems, almost endlessly, but the quality wasn’t there because I didn’t have the patience/rigor for revision. I now have a quality over quantity relationship with art and see revision as a true form of creative self-care in a way that would have been unimaginable to my younger self.
How do you prepare yourself to write about particularly difficult subjects?
Usually, I will try to find music that emotionally resonates with the subject. My go-to albums are by Stephen Vitiello and Michael Grigoni because they curate the perfect balance of tension and beauty to fit almost any subject I am writing about. Otherwise, I’ve tried to channel Ann Hood’s wisdom to write like an orphan. So much of my work involves family, both living and gone, that I can get bogged down and lose momentum. I have to really find a trance state to write my best so that no voices are singing other than my own and the spirit of the essay/poem itself. Also, an important part of this process is external processing with my partner, Gray. She is an incredible listener and believes in me as a writer more than I do, so those incubative conversations are such a fruitful launching point before I even put a word on the page.
How do you recover after doing intense creative work?
I absolutely love binge-watching TV series and eating fried food. After feeling true creative achievement, I want to turn my brain off. Watching TV or a movie and eating gluten-free chicken tenders and french fries is the ultimate award. The grease doesn’t actually help me, but lord does it hit right.
How do you manage the way ambition feels?
Ambition is something I’ve never lacked. My artistic practice generally involves taking on far too many projects and then slowly whittling them down into what works best for my life and art. The issue with being interested in multiple disciplines and mediums is there can be tension between what time and attention is invested where. Being a writer is such a time-consuming practice that isn’t as organic to me as being a musician or more collaborative artwork. And yet, the ambition it takes to be a writer and dream of a full-length book is a powerful, powerful abstraction I continue to chase and hope to one day bring to fruition. I think that’s also a product of having skin in the game. Though I’ve written since I was a teenager, I wouldn’t say I’ve ever nurtured writing and invested in it the way I have music. There is so much community in music and that same community is harder to achieve in writing despite studying English/CW and having close writer friends. That’s something I’m slowly working on through coffee writing dates and investing time and energy within my writing craft, just as I initially learned scales and moveable chord shapes on instruments. I’m part of a great cohort and writing community in VCU’s MFA in Creative Writing program and that has really put wind in my sails.
How can you tell when you’re coming up on burnout?
When I fly too close to the sun, I start resenting my responsibilities. Things that should bring me joy like shows, practices, readings, or creative events start to become a stressor. I’m terrible at taking on too many projects and overburdening my calendar. But it's something I’m slowly working on. Slowly.
What level of “seize the day” are you?
I’m a 10/10 on the seize-the-day scale. I’m usually working on three albums, multiple event organizing projects, writing (or procrastinating) an essay and/or poem, learning old-time tunes, and attempting to be a good partner, son, dog dad, instructor, friend, bandmate, etc etc etc. As I said, I’m really trying to rein in my ambition and “seize the day” energy, but I’m also grateful to always have multiple fires burning.
What’s the playlist of late?
Lately, I’ve been returning to a lot of American Primitive guitar music. Virginia has been the home to some of my favorites in the genre, Daniel Bachman and Jack Rose (RIP). I also have really been digging into pedal steel soundscape artists like Susan Alcorn and Michael Grigoni. I’m always listening to old-time, country, and bluegrass but that feels more like stewardship since I’m part of those traditions so it's always nice to listen to genres that inspire me but aren’t directly related to my art practice.
How does money, and your relationship to it, provide care or support?
Money is the devil. Art is underfunded. I have nothing nice to say here so I’ll leave it at that.
What are some forms of care that you’re discovering, or want to try?
My partner and I have started going to the gym in the early mornings and it's been a lovely way to start the day. I’ve really gotten into the elliptical stair stepper. I think I’m the only person at Gold’s who uses it, so it feels like my personal workout station that I listen to audiobooks on. I recently finished Carvell Wallace’s Another Word for Love and I can’t recommend it enough, especially as an audiobook because Wallace truly performs the text. Otherwise, therapy is top notch and I’ve been seeing an art therapist. Though we don’t actually do “art therapy,” it's been the best therapy experience I’ve ever had talking to another creative due to my mental health being so interwoven with my artistic ambitions and practices. I’ve also recently discovered the new Mudhouse location in Richmond and it's been such a lovely space to write and meet with writers and just get work done away from home. Their Nitrocano is its own form of self-care. I am drinking one as I write this…
What is comforting to you?
I’ve returned to poetry after a long hiatus. I studied poetry extensively in undergrad under the wing of Gary Sange. But I simply burnt out and realized that my “beatnik” tendencies in verse weren’t really representing who I am or who I wanted to be. I hadn’t written or read poetry regularly in probably five years, but my work with launching a podcast for Blackbird (VCU’s literary journal) has brought me back into conversation with some of my favorite poets. The first episode will be released in August and feature the work of Claudia Emerson, Larry Levis, and Dianne Seuss. Claudia Emerson in particular is my all-time favorite poet and her book, Late Wife, will forever be a revelation. Emerson’s musicality both in her poetry and life resonate deeply with me and have brought me back into the world of poetry. I have kept Late Wife on my work desk and turned to it in many-a-time of inspiration. I think her words are an endless well I will drink from eternally. I am thankful to say that I was just awarded the Claudia Emerson scholarship. And I’m comforted in the reminder that though we may drift from art practices, there will always be a season for return and renewal. I’m still focusing most of my writing time and energy on essays, but I have started writing poems again. I can’t tell whether I’m excited or terrified by this, which is likely the exact emotional place to write from.
You can purchase a copy of Wickline Speed Shop here, but mark your calendars for August 30th to join the book launch at Hardywood Park Craft Brewery in Richmond.
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