Paul sent out an email explaining guidelines for the collection and creation of objects for the installation Translations from the Ubiquitous Largesse. At the time, the project was untitled and the specifications were mainly outlining found objects, white in color, articulated and preferably smaller than ½”. His emphasis seemed to be on things that had a prior history, a story.

At first I thought this would be something I would be good at; I am a natural scrounge. Then I realized that it was not about collecting garbage. The experience of looking for these objects altered the way in which I look at the world.

I was walking down the street next to a chain link fence with windblown garbage that had collected at its base. I suddenly had a feeling come over me that I had just passed a special object, although it was too small for me to recognize it as such. I stepped back a few paces and dug a small white object out of the ground. It was a white plastic figure of a little child. The ‘finding’ had started to resonate with me on a subconscious level.

I do not see plastic coffee lids, I see the way in which each person that handled and interacted with them before they were ultimately abandoned. I saw the way in which the sun and rain subdued these objects. I saw the tire, the foot that ground them into submission, either through intention or indifference. When they were summoned and adopted by Paul, suspended by a needle and displayed next to their kin, their history, their tragedy their perseverance began to hum.

It is easy to dismiss, it is easy to pass these objects with indifference. It takes insight and courage to listen to their voice. It takes time to stand in their presence, to be present, ponder and reflect.

Not every object is found. Many have been made from scratch. Some have been painted or otherwise altered.

Chandalin Winifred Lancaster