top of page
  • rileysoloner

Good Garbage

I have a waste paper basket tucked in the corner of the living room. This basket doesn't usually get a lot of action. And when it does, it gets filled with mundane crap like a bag of a fun new chip flavor I had to try. A shredded envelope with a plastic window to entice me with a horrible new loan. A snotty tissue ball.

I've been painting. I've developed a new little mini method. I need to set down scratch paper, secure my pieces with rolls of blue tape, swipe up excess paint with paper towels, and consolidate near-empty tubes into dollar store squeeze bottles. I sit on the floor with music playing and happily traverse the depths of behaving like a little factory.

I slowly peel away four ribbons of paint-soaked blue tape as I twist them into wet, spirally sticks. I carefully place them into the waste paper basket at an angle precise enough to prevent them from sticking to the top of the plastic grocery bag. I need these sticks to lay flat against the inside wall of the basket. I need to stuff as many sticks neatly into the basket as possible. The care ensures less wet paint smudging my fingertips. The more efficient this discarding process, the faster I can get to the next painting. The absolute worst case is a stray pinky finger accidentally touching on some tape, pulling up a spider web of paint-soaked sticks, along with the entire grocery bag in the basket. I have no time for this.

And when I've finished a session, I notice that even the garbage leftovers from the creative work makes me happy. This trash looks so much nicer. It's its own art piece. How nice, an affirming signifier of my work and existence. More art trash, please. Something to believe in besides chips, bills and snot.

21 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Hello! This is me checking in to say: this is all I'm going to write today. And now, I will hit 'publish.' And then I will close my computer. Hopefully I can find something non-screen related today. A

Still doing my tarot thing. I pulled Number Zero, the Fool card today. I sat and drew the card in my journal. I skipped the next three steps in my ritual: read about my car in Finding The Fool, journa

I'm tired, it's getting cold. I feel my fire gradually snuffing out for the season. I don't like the feeling. But in this moment, I'm like, "why fight it." Maybe it's not accepting cold (ha) hard trut

bottom of page