05.28.09 kulturnatib

Bugs

“You speak French?” That this was asked in English betrayed a bet that, one, I probably don't speak French and, two, that I would be more familiar with English. “Un petit peu,” I replied, “but better with English,” I added.

There was another bet that had nothing to do with either French or English but rather with what might have looked to be like I was a newbie at this.

“That one, problem.” This was followed by shaking and scratching motions. “Plenty of animals.” “No, no, what is it?” This was exactly my question that I had no opportunity to verbalize as soon as he started talking to me. “Bugs, yes, bugs. That one. You use it?”

I followed where his finger was pointing and immediately realized what he was getting at. It was my turn for some shaking motion. I shook my head.

But, yes, that would have plenty of bugs. Even indoors they are bug borough. Outdoors, they are a veritable bugsville. Not only that, they are extremely attractive to bigger animals, including humans, whom I was, not surprisingly, mistaken to be among them.

Yet, no, I was not interested in in the faux leather couch that had clearly seen better days but could still pull through decently given some methodical touching up.
It was among the pile of furniture that had been left out on the curbside for the following day's scheduled pickup by the city's garbage service. Or, as often happens, for picking by anybody interested in them on a strictly first come, first claim and finders-keepers basis.

My interests were more modest. Besides how could I move that full, three-person couch, even if it was just two corners away from our house?

I was working on a project that needed cabinet drawer rails or slides. The junked bedroom cabinet next to the couch had those. Perfect.

So, with tool in hand, I was in the process of harvesting those accessories when this man on a bicycle stopped and, in what I can only see as expressing civic concern and social solidarity, proceeded to give me some advice on the fine art of trash picking.

Not that I needed such advice. Ever since I had, and for some time now, adopted the approach of extending the useful life of something by either simply using it some more or reusing it or using it for something else, trash has been some of my most reliable and readily available resources.

Even the use of 'found-objects' in many of my art works is a manifestation of this approach.

It just makes simple sense for me. With the pollution that is choking up the earth, ourselves and our future anything that helps to mitigate the situation helps.

This was not the immediate concern for the man on the bike, however. “Bugs, they itch much” he continued even after I had told him that the couch was not my interest. “You have to wash plenty,” he persisted. “So sometimes not worth it.”

“I know,” I said and wishing him a nice evening as he hopped back on his bike and as I hopped on mine with the success of my project in the bag.