Okay Rosburg…Let’s figure out how to cast these wings since they say it “can’t be done.”
Most municipal programs accept plastics #1 and #2. But plastics 3 through 7? It gets much more tricky.
Tour of the recycling factory in Aurora…. this shows the washed bits headed to the drier. Only #1 and #2 plastics are recyclable at this plant. The rest of the shreds head to: the landfill. This is due to the cost of recycling #3, #4, #5, #6 and #7… but those numbers are cheap to make. This plant really does a lot to recycle what it can, but sometimes, they can almost break even with costs… Recycling is not currently, it would seem, a cost effective method of dealing with this overload of plastics in our transport/purchase/consumer based world….
I am IN LOVE with these miniature apocalyptic dioramas!!!!!
“…Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”
– Summer Day by Mary Oliver (excerpt)
It has been said that dying is the last intimate thing we will ever do. For someone like myself, who has always been enamored by life’s miraculous and inexhaustible expressions of evolutionary processes, this relationship of intimacy to death makes perfect sense. My shelves are lined with skeletons, skulls, empty seashells, dried insect exoskeletons, and hollow seed pods. To perceive or hold the remnant of a death is to hold the memory of its life. No matter how long or short that life may have been, I feel that it counted; and that, in and of itself, is a particular kind of intimacy.
In a world full of constant images, distractions, technology, and striving, I feel we have lost sight of our place in the grand, mysterious, unfolding orchestral ballet of life. Like a planetary experiment gone awry, the far reaches of the “human machine” keep us from our inherent connection to the wildness of nature. Though my work deals with the strains of pollution, ecological deterioration, and habitat loss, it is fundamentally based in my awe and admiration for nature to overcome any obstacle, even if it is mankind. My chosen materials of resin, detritus, organic remnants, plastic, sugar, gelatin, paint, and time-lapse photography address this intimacy through a lens of permanence/impermanence, preservation/decay. I delve into the memory of objects that once contained élan vital, and record the decay of both living and nonliving objects. It is, to me, a kind of prayer for one to pay attention to the life around them by acknowledging a life that has passed on.