I began this project by collecting three or more real-life, portable objects that meant something to me in a provocative way.
I keep a box on my shelf. It's dark green and metal. About the size of a complete Webster's dictionary (Webster, 436). Big enough for all of the words. I keep all of my most potent possessions in there. It's big enough for all of my most potent possessions. Love letters, bullets, promise rings, knives, teeth, empty little bottles. A box of stories from that one time that I...
I harvested some sentimental secrets from that treasure trove. I don't have much of a statement about them, though.
I started to be consumed with the endless potential of certain things. Even packaged consumer goods. Even a can of soup can evoke consumerism. A pack of Jell-O, already opened, already consumed. What's the story there? The possibilities are as endless as something that lasts forever.
I wanted to make a comment about spirituality, so I decided to include a cross. Happy Easter (God, 268). In conjunction with the packaged consumer goods, I thought I could evoke a sort of worship of consumerism. Totally true, wow. "At the altar of the self-checkout line, we kneel and eat a gumball" (Nietzsche, 16).
I wanted to take us to a sort of 'desperate quest for beauty' place... I didn't want the altar to be completely barren; however, to keep it in line with the themes I'd already curated, I decided to go with some flowers. Flowers are often on religious alters I guess, but to add a superficial element, I thought fake flowers would work better. I plucked a few out of a vase, where they had been pretending to drink water.
I decided to round out my altar with some trash. I think it worked with the theme of orthodox consumerist lifestyle of post-postmodern American all you can eat idolatry... and whatever comes after...
God. Holy Bible. ESV ed., Crossway, 2001.
Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche. The Genealogy of Morals. New York, Boni And Liveright, 1918.
