It was In the early go-go 90s, I had lost my 'dream job' (long story) and arrived in a job which was a far cry from anything I ever imagined I would be doing-- The intensity of long hours nearly immobile in a chair with my brain wired into the computer--the concentration only broken with the occasional yelling by my boss to work harder and faster..or some sort of variation on random negative statements-- all this and more, started to take its toll only weeks after I started the job. I knew for my physical and mental well-being, I needed to get out during the lunch hour and walk, walk, walk, to clear my mind. As I walked, everyday I began finding these rusted , twisted wires, which mirrored my personal suffering. I began picking them up, and delighted in finding often finding 2 or 3 a day. They were coming from the construction sites of the area which was undergoing gentrification. I began relating to each wire I found. First, as my own sorry state of being in a job which was twisting my brain to places which are difficult to describe. But as the months passed I realized  how these bent, rusted, discarded found wires went beyond me. They gave me time to reflect on others--the wires were the homeless, the forgotten, the discarded in society. Getting outside myself, to the 'other'. Through these wires--Daily my spirt was revived, and I focused on making a change, starting with myself. Those things--once useful, now not needed, but ultimately reclaimed for art.
Chicago
