Slow Bagger (2021)

24inchesLongX2ftWideX18.5inchesTall Paper - Plastic - Dirt - Cardboard

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Inspired by the artist Liz Magor, Slow Bagger  is a sculpture of everyday abandoned objects reframed. In this reframing is a conversation of use, elements, start and begging, connection, activity, and art itself. In this piece I communicate the consumption of the developed world. I argue in this piece the consumption of planet Earth as well as ourselves, and out the cycles, cadences, and balance of our relationship of the world may be seen in this representation. I ask, 'How often does the individual touch the Earth? And in what ways? Do our actions in majority tilt the environment into balance or unbalance? What do we produce for the balance in comparison against it? The title invokes my pity for the slow baggers of the world, working their jobs outside the pace of progress, but in the pace of bare subsistence. Is the slow bagger not more noble? In the piece I have familiar bags from dollar stores, supermarkets, and 'that local organic place'. I have receipts that ask, 'What would you buy for a dollar? What is the worth of a dollar? What can be said of paper? The dirt is from my family's farm, a place where we bury our animals, and perhaps a hundred years ago may have buried ourselves. Now a-days my family's bodies are housed in mausoleums, and in my opinion, is the final act of and unbalance separation from the elements we are to rejoin not only in death but in life. It's disgusting, much less disgusting than this dirt. We soil the soil itself. We never wish to be a part of it. "Because we don't own a farm" is a phrase I come back to  a lot in my life. The farm: why we can't grow our own food, why we can't play instruments, why we can't sit under the stars, by the fire, cook meats and drink, why we can't have quiet, why we can't be alone, why there's not enough space, and someone to tell one what they can touch, edit, build, dig, and express. It's a terror to many, this owning no land. This food. This entertainment. It is ever becoming a terror to me. 

 

Inside the bag’s rims is like a portal, lies the dirt all things are destined to be. A composite. Perhaps. In these pictures are two ends of a story. I want this piece to speak of my increasing pessimism for the future of a humanity I believe lives out of balance with each other, themselves, and the world. I hope this piece speaks for our paradise. 

 

Paradise, The Garden of Eden turned into a storm filled, drowning, poisonous, toxic, bleached, paved, burning, gas producing, chemically imbued, sixth mass extinction, smog covered, arid badland, of sickness, famine, and pollution. Goodbye to the tree, goodbye to the river, the water table, goodbye to the sky and eventually the stars as our uncareful influence fills the sky with reflecting light of our own cities and the passing armadas of satellites. In my piece I argue that our approach to balance upon the Earth has been vicious, cruel, and wrong. I show it peacefully, for today we live in peace and abundance. But for how long? How can can sustainability stand for growth? How can we grow in the midst of balances millions of years old when our own life is so fleeting and we want?