Still in love with that lost glove?

We’re all familiar with the unanswerable quandary about how a sock gets lost on the way to/from the dryer. For Carnegie Mellon student Jennifer Gooch, the sight of another pairless, appendage-covering garment sparked a rescue effort that is gaining fame world-wide.

Gooch started the Web site One Cold Hand after seeing the number of lost and lonely gloves along Pittsburgh streets. She now collects the abandoned items (which would otherwise presumably become trash–hence the connection to my topic). Gooch pins the gloves to an art wall in her studio, posts a description online (rather than on a milk carton), and waits for someone to claim them. She’s still waiting, as no one has claimed one yet. But several people have started to contribute to her stock, sending in gloves they have found in Pittsburgh streets. As of now, Gooch isn’t taking any donations from other cities, but she encourages people to start a One Cold Hand of their own.

Since starting the site two weeks ago, Gooch has already been written about by the New York Times, Associated Press, and 140 other newspapers/Web sites. Tonight, she will be interviewed by the BBC for their BBC 5 Live “Up All Night” program.

Just one more example of how popular it’s becoming to rescue refuge!

Reduce, Reuse, Reverse an Economy?

In our eagerness to protect underpaid workers and to save the planet, are we unintentionally causing another set of problems entirely? How can we be truly conscious consumers? Both sides of this issue are explored in my audio slideshow:

Utilizing more potential “trash”

Max Taubert does not pick up trash, though what he does collect for a living might otherwise end up in a landfill somewhere.   

Taubert is the founder of Duluth Timber Company in Duluth, Minnesota, and his business is reclaimed wood. When a building is ready to be torn down, and it is made from certain types of what is known as “old growth” timbers, Taubert will travel as far as Australia to inspect the wood and stake his claim. He deals mainly in “soft” woods, such as Heart Pine and Douglas Fir. But on occasion he’ll find some old redwood that he just can’t pass up.

Duluth Timber Co. is very successful, though there is a lot of competition out there. The reclaimed wood business is certainly in fashion, and continues to grow. Old wood is popular with environmentalists, with those who have a sense of nostalgia, and with builders who understand the stability it offers.  Though Taubert would rather have saved the old growth forests to begin with, and would rather save many of the buildings that are being torn down, he is glad that he can at least make use of the wood the way it is.  

A porch in Monterey, California, made from reclaimed Douglas Fir. 

More garbage as art from around the country

In Las Cruces, New Mexico, at a reststop along the east side of the highway, there is a roadrunner, 20 feet tall and 50 feet long. It is made entirely of garbage. The white stomach is made mostly from old tennis shoes. But vistors also note seeing steering wheels, children’s toys, and office fans incorporated into the sculpture. From what I can discover, on the other side of the country, no one knows who made the sculpture. It just appeared on the desert landscape one day, and has become a staple of Roadside America. 

Norcal Waste Systems,  a landfill outside of San Francisco, has a program where artists compete to live near the dump and have free reign over whatever they find inside. The rules are that they must be established artists, they must make their work entirely from trash from the landfill, and they must allow the group that runs the landfill to show their work for a certain period of time.  

The more I investigate garbage as art, the more I find it exists. And the motivations are so varied. To make people laugh. Because an artist is poor. As an environmental statement. As artist Robert Lederman said, “Garbage is the most abundant ‘natural’ resource.”

Q & A with street artist Jack Nesbitt

While Justin Gignac sells garbage for what it is, Jack Nesbitt is busy transforming it into something else. Nesbitt is an artist who uses litter found on city streets to create and display his work. Between protesting with artist right’s groups and preparing for his second gallery show, Nesbitt spoke with me about the motivation behind his unique medium and his intense connection to the streets of New York.

Brooke Edwards: How would you describe your paintings?

Jack Nesbitt: They are playful and abstract—a reference to Bauhaus, Paul Clay, Feininger, Kandinsky… And there’s always a story behind them. Or I will create a story to go with the paintings.

BE: Is there a philosophy behind your work?

JN: The philosophy of my work is that what people throw away is something that I use. What people think of as useless, I like to put some use to it through my imagination.

BE: Can you share some examples of items you’ve found on the streets and how you’ve turned them into art?

JN: I use a lot of cardboard that I find. And I’ll add white paint, or some spots of bright color. But I like the color of cardboard and a lot of times I’ll let the natural color show through.

Sometimes I find modular garbage, like the same wedges of Styrofoam, 5 or 6 pieces, light green, all the same shape. Recently, I used the wedges and put them down on the sidewalk and made an inverted staircase on the ground. And then I cut some cardboard and labeled the piece with a price. Of course it didn’t sell, but that’s okay, too.

BE: Can you talk a bit about how you find the items that you use? Do you go out looking for something particular?

JN: The way I work is that I don’t look for special things, I let the things find me. I just watch for something to catch my attention, something that can initiate my imagination and start the wheels turning. I take what I find. Sometimes they’re disparate objects that don’t fit together. But if you are able to put them together and play around, you might find a visual connection. It’s something very personal to you and you engage your spiritual inner life, taking whatever you find, to make something, to make a story, to tell a story and to share that with other people. The artwork is greater than the sum of its parts.

BE: Is there an environmental statement behind your use of litter to create art?

JN: I don’t consciously go out and think I’m going to save the world by picking up garbage and putting it together and selling it. That’s not my intent. The only conscious motivation I have is the intent to use what most people discount, most people don’t need, and to create something that stirs a little interest. That’s a use of garbage or found objects to initiate a dialogue. As far as I’m concerned, that’s what keeps us going as a people.

BE: Just how old are you, if I may ask?

JN: I’m 67. I’m too old to really be on the streets, but there’s a certain vitality that I get by being there.

BE: And you take your commitment to the streets one step further, in that you sell your work there.

JN: It’s free enterprise at its best. There are so many street artists that are inventing things that have never been seen before. The ideas are rampant out there. The fact that it’s just on the street and the fact that it’s made from garbage or what people throw away, it’s just as much a vehicle for expression. So much of what I consider art or what the public considers art is legitimized by putting it in the surrounding of a museum or gallery. But it doesn’t need the gallery to be called art or a creative act.

BE: Have you ever shown your work in a studio setting?

JN: I did a one-man show in Albany 15 years ago, before I moved to New York City. Right now I have a gallery and it might be that I am going to show my work. It is on 57th St., which is a pretty good location. I also have an agent for the first time. You have to pay the bills. But the streets are where my soul is.

Why buy used goods?

eBay is built on it. Thrift stores and flea markets, the same. What motivates people to buy used goods?

Sometimes it’s about saving a dime. But other times, these old goods are labeled “vintage” and sold for more than a new equivalent.

I think a bit of it is nostalgia. People like to believe there is a story behind what they own. But is this about a true longing for a sense of history, or about having a story of our own to tell? Afterall, it is so much more interesting to say, “I got that table at a flea market in Nice. It used belonged to…” than to say “I got it at Ikea.”

Some of these nostalgic-minded consumers would also spout the familiar phrase: “They don’t make things like they used to.” For them, in spite of the fact that the goods are old, they still believe they will hold up better because they were made from better materials, with handmade techniques.

Buying used/discarded/vintage goods is also a bit of a trend. A fashionista thing, with the vintage clothing and housewares. Buying something odd, something that doesn’t look like it was freshly manufactored. It’s cool. It’s cutting edge. It’s anti-establishment.

Then there’s the “green” movement. For those who subscribe to this school, buying used goods or saving something from the landfill is about protecting the environment. Reducing our output. Not being wasteful. But others would argue that this is just a covert way to continue mass consumerism. To overpay for something you probably don’t need because it is made from recycled goods. Though I would argue that there is still some righteous motivation here…

$1 million dollar trash

This week, a story emerged about a woman who found a painting by the garbage on the sidewalk. Turns out, four years later and after some investigation, the painting was stolen, wanted by the FBI, and may sell at a Sotheby’s auction for up to $1 million.

One man’s trash…

Justin Gignac is 27 years old. He is a college graduate, former MTV production assistant and has had a brief but successful stint as an advertising executive.

But this afternoon, Justin could be found wondering SoHo with a black trash bag in his gloved hand, picking up litter from the crowded streets. It’s become a familiar routine for the Connecticut native.

The common misconception is that he is simply a good Samaritan, helping to clean up the notoriously littered streets of the Big Apple. But his t-shirt, which reads “Thank you for littering,” gives him away.

The truth is that this is how Justin now makes his living: collecting little pieces of New York life, which he then seals in clear plastic boxes labeled “Garbage, New York City” and sells for $50 to $100 each. (Available on his website, www.nycgarbage.com)

Last week, Justin sold his thousandth box.

“I guess if no one littered, I’d be out of a job,” Justin said as he bent to pick up a copy of today’s Village Voice crumpled on the Bleeker Street sidewalk. “But I don’t think there’s any danger of that.”

Intrigued? Follow this link to see my video on Mr. Gignac.