There was something primal about him. Candid. He spoke of cats and dogs, art and trash, work and money. Years later, this memory and a piece of his artwork are still stuck with me.
Cabo San Lucas — August 2014
We were roaming the streets near our b&b. Not air, all cash.
It was off-season but pre-hurricanes. We were basically crashing the local hiatus. Fairly enough, locals didn’t have a lot of interest chatting with us.
Except for him.
We didn’t catch his name, but he caught us sighting his studio.
He signaled through the window.
He rushed up and down the stairs and collected his housemates.
This cat, who breastfed this dog as a stray puppy.
With an abundance of energy, he pulled us into his conversation, as if we were picking up from where we had left off.
“We are biomachines,”
he said. He pointed at the dog for contrast:
“We make buildings, we make money. We wake up, we work.”
The dog whose Mother was a cat circled around us.
“He doesn’t work. He’s free. We work for them.”
He made art out of scraps. Metal pipes, plastic bottles, neon lamps.
To give this sculpture its form he wrapped his fist with aluminum folio and melted a plastic bottle around it.
“It’s a heart,”
My husband later pointed out that it resembles a meteor rushing down to Earth.
The artist placed it in my hands and said:
“It’s a gift.”
Thank you for reading. 🕊
All photographs were taken by me.
I still do not know this Artist’s name or anything more about his work. Except that he was ahead of his time, making art from trash — considering, in a not so distant future, trash might be all that’s left on Earth to make art out of.