Springtime and asparagus are synonymous for me, the change of the seasons marked in rubber bands. At the end of winter my jar of rubber bands disappears, consumed by binding half used bags of sugar and picnic lunches. Just in time, the first asparagus appears at the farmers market. I don’t buy rubber bands, I buy asparagus. Thick blue rubber bands binding together each pound of asparagus, one rubber band at the top of the bunch the other at the bottom. Arthur loves asparagus so we easily go through six or seven pounds of it a week, which adds incrementally twelve to fourteen rubber bands back into the jar in my kitchen. It’s a few weeks into spring and I’m enjoying the proliferating springy mass of blue elastic.
Santa Cruz, CA
Arthur is a computer programmer who builds virtual machines. There is usually enough physical redundancy that nothing can catastrophically fail, but once in a while things do. When cascading hard drive controllers fail at Arthur’s work, large amounts of data are lost. He has collected the offending hard drive controllers that have failed him, as trophies of a sort. He asked me to construct a wallet out of them for him. This is the result, it’s made of black canvas and five broken hard drive controllers sewn on like buttons.
Palo Alto, CA
Santa Cruz, California