J is taking a photo of these chairs, she loves the blue. Would anybody take them and reuse them? From this position they look like they are humping, rather fitting really. T with the fabulous bosom who works at the corner of Carlisle and Mitchell St used live there for a long time with her horrible dealer boy friend. Sometimes she’d stand at exactly that spot and tout.
A voice says “it looks better now it’s painted”. J looks up and realises that the flats have a new coat of paint.
She can’t help herself and says “it looked pretty good before”.
“Yeah but now my Mum might come and visit me, she didn’t like me living in a slum.”
J thought about her own mother’s response when she moved to Fitzroy in the early 80s.
She nearly said “mothers never change do they?”
J was talking to a friend the other day about mattresses and other thing that are left on the streets. S tells her a story about a friend who, after reading a good book, would always leave it in a public place. Lots of people do it all over the world so that books can be shared. This woman had left her copy of the ‘Life of Pi’ in a coffee shop in London. Six months later within a day of arriving in Bombay she sees a copy of the the same book in a cafe, she picks it up and flicks through …..there are her comments written in the margins.
Overnight somebody has added some art and 2 more mattresses have appeared across the road. This impulse for comfort reminded J of a story somebody told her during the margins, memories and markers project.
Wall-less Bedroom
I was running around the back streets of Theatreworks, looking for some evidence of the bag that was just stolen from my car. Down St Leonards Ave, took a cut-through to Neptune St through an empty block. And there, sleeping on a bed was a guy, with a bookshelf, clothes hanging in the tree, a supermarket trolley of things, and a few things scattered around. Just like any normal bedroom, but without the walls. Fascinating. That really diverted me from worrying about the $400 cash I just gave to someone who was good at picking locks. When I went back sometime later, the sleeping man and wall-less bedroom was gone, and someone had put up a temporary fence and a land-for-sale sign. Oh well.
It seems like the single mattress has gone……. but it has moved again, this time it’s in the laneway. J starts thinking about D. He used to be homeless. He used to sleep out sometimes. J wonders if he ever went looking for a street bed to add a bit of comfort.
I have always assumed that mattresses found on the streets of St Kilda would have had multiple owners, or the very least multiple users until I see these ones. The big one especially is in mint condition.
While I am taking the photo I meet C, she has just dropped her daughter off at school.
C says “I’ve just done a great big clean up and put a whole pile of stuff on street”.
Then she says “I’m really enjoying watching it disappear bit by bit, nothing like a bit of recycling”.
P and I go back later to get the pristine mattress, but somebody else had the same idea earlier …it’s gone already and the small mattress has moved down the street.
Today, two of my neighbours are talking about the progress of their renovations. L says she has more rubbish to get rid of and that another skip has just been delivered. Then she adds “I bet somebody dumps a mattress before it gets taken away”. K looks at her amazed and says “that always happens to us too”.
I just stand there thinking about mattresses and how often I see them dumped on the street. I make art from found objects and often wonder if I can make something use them for something. I always decide to stick to my 5cm size limit. If you collect junk, storage can become a big problem.
Then I think about the histories they hold. The excitement of moving into a new place. The sadness of moving on, or excitement for that matter. How much shagging went on. Lots, none, rejections, broken hearts, illness – the possibilities are endless.