I shop abandoned carts the way some people browse thrift stores—curious, reverent, searching for forgotten truths. Left behind in alleyways, wedged between dumpsters, ghosted near bus stops—these carts speak. They are quiet monuments to lives interrupted.
Each one begins as a portrait of absence. Bent wheels. Rusted frames. Sometimes discarded trash still clings to the grating. Sometimes, only the echo of the person who once claimed it remains. These objects evoke more than loss—they testify. To displacement. To a time when we moved through stores with baskets in hand. To survival in plain sight.
They remind me of the stateless. The unhoused. The invisible laborers who build our cities and are swept away like dust. Each cart in my Emotional Baggage Cart series becomes a ritual of witnessing. I dress them in what we carry: zip ties, frayed rope, yarn, beads. Remnants upon remnants upon remnants.
They transform—into portals. Shrines. Evidence. Sculptures of grit and possibility. Through each cart, I ask:
Whose burdens are we pretending not to see?
Grass Is Not Greener
40 x 21 x 39 in
2022
Grass Is Not Greener
40 x 21 x 39 in
2022
Grass Is Not Greener
40 x 21 x 39 in
Gold painted recovered shopping cart with a bicycle bell, paracord, zip tie blanket, LED strobe light, batterie operated LED star lights and basket woven with marine line, fabric and paracord.
2022