I very much enjoy found art. I enjoy how creative it is. How someone can see an object, or a bunch of objects, as something so much different than they are is amazing to me. I’ve always been somewhat of a fine arts dilettante; I’ve dabbled in my own work and studied art history for years. Found art is just one of those things that impresses me because I unfortunately just don’t really have that gift of being able to see an object beyond what it is, and what it is conventionally used for. I’m not that inventive, I guess you could say. I like Lego and I like Ikea furniture and I like following the instructions that come in the box.

As much as I very much enjoy found art, it is not the kind of art I would want in my house. I couldn’t ever really picture something like Duchamp in my living room, or one of those animalized sculptures made out of bent forks and spoons on the bedside table. Maybe one day when I have a proper place to live? No, probably not. I appreciate it, and I’m intrigued by it (aesthetically and introspectively), but it’s just not my style.

However, I was given a clock as a gift once. This wasn’t just any clock. It is a San Francisco art fair clock made out of – you guessed it – found objects. Junk. I think he is supposed to look like a dog with a hat on – what do you make of him? The body is an old baking tray, the clock framed by a mason jar lid, the nose is a handle from something, and the rest is just scrap pieces and random bits. I like to think that because he serves a purpose by telling me the time, he is an exception. He is just neat, isn’t he? He is literally a bunch of junk that I will treasure forever.

It just amazes me what people can create out of what most people would consider garbage!