For Art


Scrapyard, Recycling, Dump, Garbage, Metal, Scrap Yard

Matt liked going to the scrap yard because he never knew what he was going to find. Parking his car in the carefully reserved spaces just outside the tall electrical wired topped gates, he got out and went in. A small box booth painted bright red to stand out against everything else sat just inside the fence, with a huge man balled up inside. Matt waved to him and clocked the scrap yard owner’s wave back before wandering in.

Towers of scrap and waste rose up around Matt like small mountains. Someone was trying hard to keep control of the towers being structured out of the same items, but it was an almost impossible task. The metal piles held abandoned cars, some looking crushed others just looking dumped where sticking out alongside white kitchen appliances which also mingled with other metal objects.

The smell was bad and Matt slipped on his cloth mask and gloves as he walked. The air was heavy with old oil, rusting metal, household waste and other rotting things. Following large paths that had been marked out of the cranes and other monster machines to follow, he approached a few of the piles and looked at the stuff on offer.

His mind rushed over all the things he could create and soon he had gathered a list of items. Finding a worker, which took a very long time, he got the young man to gather what he had picked it out and cart it back to the booth for the total and payment. He then got help arranging deliver and sent of home again.

Matt knew he always took too much home. Thinking about as he drove, he felt he couldn’t help it. Somehow, people’s unwanted items took on new forms under his hands and found so much joy in it. What had once been his hobby was now his way of life. A way of life selling recycled art.

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