The hard rubbish collection is on around my neighbourhood, signalled by the small, neat piles on nature strips.
Interestingly, there aren't any huge piles of other years, and part of me wonders if this is a side effect of the Global Financial Crisis: less bought, less thrown away.
There also don't seem to be the same gleeful gleaners searching for gems amongst the broken plastic paddling pools, old TVs, and flowerpots.
But I must confess that I haven't really paid it all as much attention as usually do.
Ordinarily, I am fascinated by the hard rubbish collection.
This fascination stem in large part from the sociologist in me who asks questions about what it means:
What does is say about what is produced? So many broken plastic tables and chairs, which probably once seemed robust and cheap.
What does what people throw away say about them? About what they can afford to throw away, rather than repair. About the time versus money, deep investment versus shallow consumption.
And then there's the odd, obviously emotion-laden object that one strays across. The cot that was kept in the shed for years, only to be cast out onto the nature strip decades later. Why wait so long, to keep it until it is useless?
These questions are still circling around in my head, but my attention has turned to exploring the other side of the coin. Not what people throw away, but to what they use, keep, value. The things that nurture and stimulate them. The things that resist being disposable in a pile out the front.
It might sound a tad twee, but these are the precious things. And I want to know what makes them so.
Hi Ruth,
ReplyDeleteThe cot reminds me of that "world's shortest story" attributed to Hemingway: "For sale: Baby clothes. Never Used."
I dumped some cassette tapes at our last collection, and I was amazed how many disappeared before the council came along. I mean ... dubbed Rodney Rude tapes from 1980?
I must admit I often marvel about what is put out on the footpath on hard waste. It's like a little glimpse into their hidden words. It does make you think about what they keep. If someone is willing to put out personal photos (I saw this at one home) I wonder what they do value.
ReplyDeleteAnd a belated congrats on your new piece in the A2, I loved it.
Dan: Rodney Rude tapes! What can I say? What does that say about your neck of the woods that they were quickly gleaned? And why didn't you keep them for your little tacker? Or do you already have them in another format?
ReplyDeleteRH: Hard waste seems so intimate in many ways, so much of what's private on display. And yet, I doubt most people share this feeling. Or maybe by the time it is on the street, they've already disowned it. I remember reading somewhere, that we all go through little 'disinvestment rituals' before we get rid of objects - cleaning things for sale, further breaking what is already in disrepair. Perhaps this creates the psychological distance needed to put things out on the street: they're no longer of any worth to us, we can disown them.
ReplyDeleteAnd thanks on the A2 piece - I enjoyed writing that one.
There is a great documentary based around that painting/collecting peoples left overs - I think it is called The Gleaners- very interesting...
ReplyDeleteI bought a victorian balloon backed chair once, very cheaply, it had seen better days but had been repaired, the walnut had split and had been glued together - the man in the shop said he had found it in a rich area on council clean up day - seriously...
GG, this is one of the very few films I own on DVD! It's brilliant - great imagery: a clock with no hands, a heart-shaped potato. Highly recommended.
ReplyDeleteIt's astounding the things that are put out... although it's mostly broken plastic garden furniture and toys around here.