I constructed it in the fall of '88. It was an assignment in my design class at community college. We were told to "make a box".
Yes.
I can't tell you how hard and how fast the wheels starting turning in my head when I heard that. No other instructions were given. What a delight. Art instructors are beautiful and understanding people.
The first thing I did was spend some time in my dad's garage. I found a box. See the thing was, not to MAKE a box, but to start with a box, and do something with it. So I found a big sturdy cardboard box. I dumped it's previous contents on out onto the garage floor, turned it rightside up, and sat down and stared at it for a while.
After getting a feel for what I wanted to do, I got to work.
First, I duct taped the whole thing up tight, to where you couldn't see any flaps sticking up. Then I exacto'd a window in the center of one side. I painted the whole thing white, then threw sand from my little sister and brother's sandbox on it, for texture.
Next, I mounted it on four bamboo rods, which were actually two of my dad's fishing poles (or "canes" as he called them) broken in half. I didn't ask him. So now, it stood about 3 feet off the ground.
I stood back and sat down and stared at what I was creating. It was looking good. Now it was time for the scene, the things I wanted to place inside, so that when you looked in through the window, you'd see something really interesting. I filled the bottom with dirt, sprayed down with glue fixative. Then I stole the pirhanna out of my little brother's room, it was a real one, all dried up and preserved somehow. I ran fishing line through it and strung it up so that it hung from the top. I then cut the black leather strap off of my Twilight Zone watch, and laid the face of the watch in the dirt, sort of leaning over. Last but not least: I went to the craft store, in search of the final touch. I walked the aisles in hopes of finding the perfect item to complete my project. Nothing suited me, nothing fit the mood. That is, until I found myself down the bridal aisle.
Of all places, this is where I found what I was looking for, but didn't know it: a cake decoration, the little plastic bride and groom, standing together, that goes atop a wedding cake.
I stood the plastic couple up inside, right under the pirhanna, and beside the Twilight Zone watch, that I made sure was all wound up and with a new battery, so one could hear it ticking , if they listened closely. I was satisfied. It was a masterpiece. It said so much. It was eerie, and deep. It had a spiritual feel to it.
I brought it to class, and all of us students got to set up our boxes out in the hallway, for an "art show". The instructor went and inspected each of them, one by one, and when he came to mine, he stood still for a long time, quiet, just staring at it. He asked me what it represented. I told him I didn't know, but it had to do with danger, and waiting. The thin bamboo legs made me think of no real solid ground, and the watch gave me a sense of folded and stretched out time. Do you know what I mean? Can you look back on your years and view it all in a lump, events and phases all folded up together, and then zoom way out, and think
nevermind
He liked it. He asked if he could keep it.
My little brother noticed his pirhanna missing. I do feel bad about that. But it was fair, seeing as how he undid the lid to the lava lamp I bestowed upon him, it was like my heritage, and I asked him to take good care of it, but instead he somehow got the top off and played with all the goo inside and ruined it.
Interview with Mark
