I have a weird obsession with trash, discarded papers, broken down buildings and cars, graffiti, and random things dropped and/or left behind.
Not only do I stop to study all these things but I usually photograph them as well.
And I’ve been known to bring in more than a few “goodies” from the dumpsters outside my apartment. My desk is a cool sturdy one that I found out there. It has character with names, phrases and pictures drawn and carved on it. My office chair is a totally cool leopard print number with cool wood-carved legs and it’s so comfortable. It was also pre-scratched by someone elses cat so I don’t feel bad when Merlin climbs up and down it.
I like things that are used because they have a story with them, a history. I think that because so much of my family things are gone – most of my baby photos, family mementos and things like that, that I like to have something with a past, even if it’s not mine …
But more than finding goodies and bringing them home, I just like to look at stuff I see lying on the sidewalk, I don’t care if it’s a love letter or a shopping list, I’ll stop to look. (one of my favorite web sites: www.foundmagazine.com). I like to wonder about who and what is the story behind the note, or the photo. Or what darkness makes someone spray hateful words on a wall, or why someone would discard a photo of a child, or roses, or love notes …
I would really like to get inside people’s heads … to really know what is in there and what they think and how they really feel. Since I can’t do that I am left to investigate through the bits left behind.




























