First thing I notice: my litter doesn’t look like litter, although it was indeed (I’ve been assured) found littering the street.
Second thing I notice: my litter has no URL. Where has it been for more than two decades?
Research tells me Waddingtons is a publisher of cards and board games.
Research also tells me that in 1941 the British Secret Service had Waddingtons create a special edition of Monopoly for World War II prisoners of war held by the Germans. Hidden inside these games, distributed by the International Red Cross, were maps, compasses, real money and other objects useful for escaping.
At this point I move far, far away from making the actual litter bit the feature of this post; it’s merely the kick in the pants that leads to more research and analysis (specifically, inner musings, as in WTF) which leads to a winding trail through the worm hole of WTF causes people to litter? I’m not just angry when I pick it up on the road, in the bush or, worse, in our lake… I’m WTF furious.
I journey down this winding trail and around and around and ride the WTF roller coaster trying to ferret out a ‘source’ for littering, but cannot detach my thinking from the link between litter and the larger problem of pollution. Finally, I twist the few thousand words bouncing around my brain into this representational visual—the result of a protracted cause and effect analysis.
It’s simple and dark by deliberate choice, because there is no answer, only the dreaded question.
I did not misspell cede … I chose it for all that it means beyond seed [Yield. Concede. Surrender. Relinquish. Abandon. Give Away.]
Bottom line: there’s a devastating legacy inherent in every piece of litter.
Cheryl Andrews is a visual artist and photographer, depicting her view of the world through words and imagery. She lives in Seguin, Ontario, where she pursues these crazy-makers full time.