Once upon a time, before most people could read, painting and sculpture were tools of common communication. Artworks told stories about popular themes: hunts, celebrity lives, deities and battles.

When more people could read, artists became more technically experimental, offered more personal interpretations, sometimes treating the medium as the message.

But a few, like Patty Grazini, a Seattle-based self-taught artist, continue to tell tales in an unusual way. She explains that her detailed, relatively small sculptures “recapture forgotten moments and scenes from history. ”

Her recent collection of 13 sculptures, each about a foot tall and crafted mostly from recycled paper, are character studies of people who committed crimes in New York City between 1885-1915. Fascinated by this period of social change, a time when people were both very wealthy and very poor, she browsed old issues of the New York Times online to discover interesting subjects. She selected ones whose crimes were unusual or perpetrated in an unusual way.

The body of each sculpture is fashioned from book pages and old paper over a frame of lollipop sticks and wrapping paper tubes. Flexible wire inside the arms allows them to be posed. None have human faces. Instead Grazini assigns each the head of a bird or animal she associates with the nature of each crime. The clothes, made from recycled paper, are not only accurate to fashion of the day but also help tell the criminal’s story.

Ludwig B. Goldhorn (above) was an accountant in an insurance agency.  In 1894 he embezzled money to pay his way on a butterfly expedition to South America. Grazini used pages from a logarithm book for his shirt. Butterflies, cut from postage stamps, flutter on his clothes. He stands beside a cage of butterflies; his hands are handcuffed behind his back. His head is that of a wild boar because, like the boars, Goldhorn was hard to control and large and clumsy. The artist liked the contrast of a clumsy human who risked all to study delicate butterflies.

When Mary Malloy (above) was arrested for shoplifting in 1898, $10,000 was discovered in her bustle — nobody ever said where she got it. Grazini gave her the head of a deer because the last place she lived was Deer Island. And like deer, Malloy didn’t stay in one place. After shoplifting in one state, she moved on to another. Her clothes are made with foreign currency.

Ada Turise was arrested at age 16 in 1884 as an underage opium smoker (it was legal in the United States to smoke opium when you were 18 until 1913). Turise, who lived in New York City’s Chinatown, has the head of a sheep because she was exposed to the drug in the opium dens in her neighborhood and joined her friends smoking. Her parents, who lived outside the city, said they couldn’t figure out how their daughter got into this habit. Grazini dressed her in marbled paper removed from the inside cover of a book, because it has a psychedelic feel, and gave her a headpiece resembling a costume from a Chinese opera.

Patty Grazini exhibits mostly on the West Coast. She mounts no more than one exhibit a year because it takes so long to create each piece.  A previous show consisted of 12 pairs of her take on 18th-century decorated shoes.  She decided on the theme after buying a genuine woman’s antique shoe mold in a thrift store.  She built the 9″ long shoes of white paper and painted each pair to reveal something about the times.

“Grey Shoes.” Grazini imagined Cupid as a girl who wore grey shoes. Nearby is Cupid’s arrow with a ring attached.

To see more of Grazini’s work, visit her website.

“Guerilla Art” conjures up visions of confrontational subway taggers or the latest surreptitious Banksy installation — an anonymous creative work that makes a public statement. The two sculptures that mysteriously appeared at the Edinburgh International Book Festival in August 2011 also fit that definition, in a witty and literary fashion.

The medium — repurposed books — was the message: “Support the literary arts.”

The festival works turned out to be part of a series of 10 intricately crafted from recycled hardbacks and snuck into libraries and museums in the Scottish capital throughout the spring and summer. The identity of the artist has yet to be revealed, although bestselling mystery author Ian Rankin has admitted that he aided and abetted the project in his hometown.

In March 2012, Rankin told Claudia Massie of the Spectator’s Arts Blog that he had never met the artist before she contacted him about her plan to raise awareness of the need to protect and consolidate the city’s artistic heritage.

“She proposed the leaving of one or two sculptures around the city when she visited with her partner,” Rankin said. “I met them both for the first time during that trip. Having thought it a success, she then decided to make some more sculptures to be distributed during further trips to Edinburgh.”

The literary invasion began with a delicate “poetree” found at the Scottish Poetry Library in March. An accompanying card, addressed to the library’s Twitter name, read: “It started with your name @byleaveswelive and became a tree… We know that a library is so much more than a building full of books … a  book is so much more than pages full of words … This is for you, in support of libraries, books, words, ideas … a gesture (poetic maybe?)”

This paper tree sculpture appeared in the the Scottish Poetry Library. Alongside the tree were two golden egg halves, covered and filled with phrases from the poem, “A Trace of Wings” by Edwin Morgan.

In all, sculptures appeared at the book festival, in the poetry library, the National Library of Scotland, the Scottish Storytelling Centre, the Central Lending Library, the Writers’ Museum, the National Museum of Scotland, and The Filmhouse cinema, “in support of libraries, books, words, ideas … and all things ‘magic.’” They are all still on display, if not in their original settings.

This sculpture, carved from a Rankin novel, was left in the Scottish Storytelling Centre. The attached card read, "“...A gift in support of libraries, books, works, ideas...Once upon a time there was a book and in the book was a nest and in the nest was an egg and in the egg was a dragon and in the dragon was a story....”

Rankin’s connection to the plot was revealed in subtle ways: his face appears on one of the audience members at The Filmhouse, some of his books formed the basis of other works, and he was appearing at the book festival on the day the works were discovered there. He — or rather his Twitter handle @beathhigh — was thanked by the artist in the guest book of the poetry library, where the final sculpture was discovered in September. To see more of the paper sculptures that popped up in Scotland visit this site.

In December a new Twitter account called “a book for xmas” appeared, with tweets addressed to the sculptures’ recipients. The tweets read, “In support of books, words, ideas and wishing you a magical xmas” and a link to a video on Vimeo (below).

That’s the 21st-century twist to this bookish tale of intrigue. All the notes on the sculptures were addressed to the institutions’ Twitter addresses.

And the last chapter has yet to be written: At the end of April 2012, three similar sculptures — one carved from an old encyclopedia — were discovered under equally puzzling circumstances in public libraries in London. Whether they were created by the same artist who set Edinburgh a-twitter last year, no one may ever know. But no one is trying too hard to find out, either.

“I think of it as a little gift, and we’re going to share it while it’s here,” according to a library spokeswoman. “It’s brightened everybody’s day.”

That’s a worthy statement for any work of art, anonymous or otherwise.

An illustration of a medieval chandelier from King René’s Tournament Book (1460).

Chandeliers first shed light (although not much) during the Middle Ages. Originally, they consisted of two beams of wood attached in the shape of a cross with spikes at the ends to hold tallow candles (chandelier comes from the French word for candle), suspended from the ceiling by ropes or chains.

While the concept of overhead indoor lighting was revolutionary, the actual amount of illumination provided by candles did little to brighten vast spaces in churches, abbeys, castles and the fine homes of the only people who could afford them. And the candles were, after all, open flames dripping hot wax, with all sorts of accidents waiting to happen.

In the 17th century, chandeliers became more brilliant and more ornate as artists combined candles with different types of glass and polished brass plates to spread and reflect the flickering light. As new fuel sources became plentiful, gas and then electricity replaced candles with brighter and eventually less dangerous light.

3-tier “Icicle” chandelier from the early 20th century.

Elaborate electrified crystal chandeliers remain with us today as a source of beauty as well as light. Chandeliers’ design continues to change as artists — many more focused on decorative function than lighting capacities — experiment with unusual materials to crown and surround the still-miraculous indoor overhead light that we enjoy.  Here are some made with found materials.

“Chandelier” is a light reflecting sculpture by Canadian artist, Katharine Harvey which is currently displayed at the World Financial Center Winter Garden in New York City through May 11. The 21 ft. tall x 15 ft. wide sculpted chandelier consists of thousands of recycled plastic containers: water bottles, egg cartons, and more which have been washed, de-labeled and assembled by hand. Harvey said, “The oversized chandelier depicts a symbol of luxury while commenting on the glut of plastic in consumer society.”

A team assembling “Chandelier” in New York’s World Financial Center.

Left: Chandelier made from recycled wine barrel metal hoops. Right: Chandelier made from Bic ballpoint pens.

Chandelier made from glass beads, galvanized wire, acrylics and recycled materials by Durban craftsmen working for the Umcebo Trust.

Millennium Chandelier made from over 1000 exploded party poppers by Stuart Haygarth.

As an armchair traveler, I always like to read about offbeat, seldom-visited or forgotten destinations. That’s why I like Urban Ghosts Media, an e-magazine “about abandoned places, hidden history and alternative places.”

The writers consider art to be a component of the urban landscape and often discuss works “created from discarded objects” in Britain (their home base) and abroad. This fits into their coverage of “the abandoned and the repurposed” – which neatly fits with our interest in art made from recycled, repurposed and natural materials.

Urban Ghosts recently published a story about what has happened to Britain’s iconic red telephone boxes since they were replaced with a more utilitarian model. When the booths were separated from their phones, they began to fall into decay but some enterprising recyclers have found new and imaginative uses for them. The editor of Urban Ghosts has kindly permitted us to reprint their findings.

When Sir Giles Gilbert Scott’s red telephone box was introduced in the 1920s, few could have known that it was destined to become an enduring icon of Britishness.  But almost 90 years later, the colourful kiosks have largely become a thing of the past.  Of course, the upside is that many have come up for sale, some creatively recycled and repurposed in surprising ways, others transformed into urban art exhibits.

Repurposed Kiosks – Libraries, Cash Machines, Art Galleries and … Toilets!

(Images: David Hillas; Geoff Pick; cc-sa-3.0)

Years ago, country folk weren’t impressed by the bright red boxes, lobbying local councils to tone them down.  But times change and several communities have gone to great lengths to preserve what they consider a part of their heritage.  One of the most celebrated examples is the kiosk in Westbury-sub-Mendip (above left), transformed into the smallest library in Britain, and open 24/7, 365 days a year.

(Image: John Grayson, cc-sa-3.0)

According to the BBC: “BT has received 770 applications for communities to ‘adopt a kiosk’, and so far 350 boxes have been handed over to parish councils”.  In addition to libraries and book exchanges, abandoned red telephone boxes and found new leases of life as ATM cash machines (below) and possibly Britain’s smallest art gallery (above).

(Images: John S. Turner; Christine Matthews; cc-sa-3.0)

And while some kiosks have been recycled into miniature art galleries – others have themselves become urban art installations.  Check them out below, and don’t miss this article about a Somerset pensioner who converted a kiosk into his personal toilet.

Red Telephone Boxes as Recycled Art Installations

(Images: Steve Fareham; Oast House Archive; cc-sa-3.0)

From the local and the homemade (above) to grand designs and professionally commissioned installations (below), these recycled artworks reflect the popularity of the red boxes in the national psyche.

(Image: Don Swanson (see website), cc-nc-sa-3.0)

Whether artistically symbolising the decline of an icon, the graffiti and vandalism such objects inevitably endure, or simply using this denizen of Britishness as a departure point for a truly offbeat creation, Gilbert Scott‘s distinctive design remains an integral part of the street-scene.

(Images: sharkbait (website); Pete Jordan (website); yoga mama; Katy Stoddard (website); cc-nc-sa-3.0)

Finally, an example (above right) outside Archway Tube station in London has been recycled as a flower box, adding a splash of green and yellow, as well as red, to this utilitarian public square.

The red telephone box, designed by Sir Giles Gilbert Scott, is as quintessentially British as fish and chips, the Shipping Forecast, eccentric place names and – sadly – doomed pubs.  But after years of dedicated service, this icon of cities, towns and villages throughout Britain and her former colonies has largely become a thing of the past.

(Image: Garry Knight, cc-sa-3.0)

The popular red kiosk was the result of a 1924 competition initiated due to widespread dissatisfaction with the original K1 (Kiosk No. 1) design across London.  The winning design, in the classic tradition, was submitted by Sir Giles Gilbert Scott, architect of Liverpool Cathedral and Battersea Power Station.

(Image: rofanator, cc-nc-nd-3.0)

Scott had intended his K2 kiosk, with domed roof likely inspired by Sir John Soane’s tomb in St Pancras’ Old Churchyard, to be painted silver.  But the Post Office selected red to ensure the boxes were noticeable.  This stirred a public outcry at the time, and boxes located in areas of natural and historic beauty were painted a more subdued grey with red glazing bars.

(Image: pauldriscoll, cc-nc-nd-3.0)

Ironically, it wasn’t strictly modernisation that led to the demise of the red telephone box, as the classical K2 model gave way to the definitive K6 in 1935, commemorating the silver jubilee of King George V.  The death blow was dealt by privatisation in the form of British Telecom, which, from the 1980s, installed the more utilitarian KX100 in place of thousands of traditional kiosks.

(Image: Jon Burney, cc-nc-sa-3.0)

Around 2000 red phone boxes have historical listed status, but many stand neglected, vandalised, or simply abandoned, with a lucky few re-purposed.  In an ironic twist, the public outcry that had accompanied the introduction of the red telephone box was matched by protests over its demise, as many who had originally opposed it campaigned for the preservation of their beloved kiosks.

(Image: Rick Harris, cc-sa-3.0)

Its appearance in various urban art exhibits reflects the kiosk’s cult status, while adaptive reuse and popularity with collectors underscores its enduring legacy as an eccentric symbol if Britishness.  But the all-too-common sight of decaying red phone boxes are perhaps the most poignant reminder that things have moved on, and that eras always come to an end.

If you go looking for the roots of the Art Eco movement, you will soon run across the Dumpster Divers of Philadelphia.

Twenty years ago, a half-dozen artists who were already working with found objects were getting together informally in diners around town, sharing ideas. Joel Spivak, Neil Benson and Leo Sewell were part of the group, which has since grown into a collection of 40 artists, a pop up gallery, events, eco-education programs for school-aged kids, exhibitions up and down the East Coast, and inspiration for the next generation of environmentally conscious artists.

Isaiah Zagar standing in front of his mural surrounding the Magic Garden. He placed trashed mirrors, bottles, bicycle parts and tile into the walls. The Garden turned into a labyrinth with tunnels and alcoves filled with his murals.

An original Diver, Isaiah Zagar, began transforming a vacant South Philadelphia lot into the fantastical mosaic Magic Gardens in 1994 with detritus from the South Street corridor, just after the monthly meetings formalized into an organization (albeit without bylaws or dues). Zagar’s efforts reflect the Divers’ philosophy of creating beauty out of what other people call “trash,” and helped revitalize the entire neighborhood.

Benson said what brought the Divers together originally was an aversion to paying for art supplies.

“My motto is ‘Trash is just a failure of imagination’,” he said in a 2011 video interview.

That imagination was on display in 2006, when 25 of the Divers all took the same 25 objects and created the now legendary “25 x 25” exhibit.

“Moter and Cild” by Burnell Yow, which was displayed in the “25 x 25” exhibit. He said “It would have been ‘Mother and Child’ but I didn’t have any Scrabble™ pieces of the letter ‘H.’” (Photo by Yow)

Untitled sculpture by Betsy Alexander, which was displayed in the “25 by 25” exhibit. (Photo by Yow)

The Divers also have an aversion to paying for gallery space. Benson said they have worked successfully with several landlords to fill otherwise-empty commercial spaces for no rent, with the understanding that the gallery would move as soon as a paying tenant surfaced. It’s a way to keep neighborhoods from becoming derelict, and the arts have been keeping the lights on for business during the real estate bust in locations around the country.

Group photo of the Dumpster Divers taken at The 2012 Annual Diver Awards Banquet at the Famous Deli. (Photo by I. George Bilyk)

For their two-decade dedication “to raise the consciousness of art lovers and heighten awareness of taking a creative approach to support a more sustainable city, country and world,” the Dumpster Divers received an official Tribute from the Mayor of Philadelphia Michael A. Nutter. He recognized April 1-7, 2012, as the 20th anniversary of the group, and urged all citizens to be aware of their ongoing efforts “to ensure Philadelphia’s future as a green and sustainable city through recycling…”

To see what the Dumpster Divers are up to now, visit their website.

We take them for granted, but bottle caps— the metal ones with a corrugated edge used to seal glass bottles — have only been around since 1891.  The man who invented them, William Painter, was born in 1848, three years after commercial production of soda water began. Painter collaborated with manufacturers to develop a bottle to work with it and by 1935 most beer and soft drink bottles had these single-use caps.

Although street performers stuck them on their shoes to give their soles some tap and city kids used them to play a form of sidewalk shuffleboard, throughout the 20th century most people threw the little disks out and never thought twice about it.

Because used bottle caps are ubiquitous, plentiful and free, mostly self-taught artists began looting their local bars’ trash cans to produce idiosyncratic work. But, in the mid 1900s, the broad art community started pushing the boundaries of traditional art mediums and seeing what they could do with new materials — including bottle caps. The results are imaginative, varied and visually surprising.

Left: Bottlecap Basket. c. 1940. Courtesy of Ames Gallery. Right: This bottlecap man was made in Guatemala.

Israeli metalsmith Yoav Kotik makes jewelry with color-matched bottle caps.

American sculptor Ryan Lytle created “Nautilus” with them.

“Michelle Obama” made from flattened, vintage bottle caps by self-taught artist Molly Bright.

This Bottle Cap Lounger was created by an artist in Senegal.

Rick Ladd covers furniture and home accessories with bottle caps.

Bottle cap van. Photo by Tracy Madaj.

All this brings new meaning to the term “Pop Art.”  We can’t wait to see what else can be created with bottle caps.

Kathryn Edwards moves quickly, in both good and bad times. In April 2011, she lost her 9-to-5 job as an exhibit planner. After recouping for two weeks, she decided to blaze a new career path, one that had been lurking in the back of her mind for a while.

An environmentalist and painter, Edwards decided to use her personal savings to launch an international juried Eco Arts competition. It would accept only eco-themed entries in six categories — Repurposed Materials in Art and Design; Songwriting; Short Videos; Fine Art; Photography; and Literature.

“Fukushima, the Forgotten Noah’s Ark” -- Animal activist in search of abandoned animals Odaka City, Fukushima “No-Go Zone,” Japan. Photograph by Pierpaolo Mittica, from Italy. Finalist in the Photography competition.

She then developed a website, located 17 prominent judges, and announced the Eco Arts Awards competition in June 11, 2011. Funds tight, she publicized the competition, with the help of friends, via social media.

“Got Methane” by Stephen Shub from the US. Finalist in the Fine Art category.

People heard the call. Edwards received entries from 17 countries on six continents. The first juried competition closed on Jan. 31, 2012; the winners will be announced in April.

“Mobile Garden Dress” by Canadian artist, Nicole Dextras. This dress is a self-sustaining garden and flexible shelter, complete with pots of edible plants and a hoop skirt which converts into a tent at night. A finalist in the Repurposed Materials and Design division.

First Place in each category will receive $1,000, with additional prizes for People’s Choice awards. Edwards said she was thrilled by the response and quality of entries. “I learned artists have a great deal of interest in examining how we interact with the planet,” she said.

Voting for the first People’s Choice awards is still open. Check them out here:

Repurposed Materials in Art & Design

Songwriting (the most popular category)

Short Videos

Fine Art

Photography

Literature

The second Eco Arts Awards competition is now open. To learn more about the awards, visit their site.

Finish a bottle of grape juice and you put it into a recycling bin. Break a window and you put it in the trash can, because flat glass has a different chemical composition and manufacturing process than container glass that makes it tough to recycle. According to the EPA, we scrap 11 million tons of non-bottle glass each year.

Erwin Timmers is an environmentalist and “green” glass artist who lives and works with window glass in Maryland.  Panes are more difficult to re-melt than art glass, so Timmers developed new approaches to kiln-fired techniques for his creations. He casts small sculptures of everyday objects, such as this ball of rubber bands, from the recycled glass.

Pink Rubber Band Ball by Erwin Timmers.

Timmers’ supplies usually come from office buildings in the nearby Washington, DC, area that are being remodeled. While he exhibits his small sculptures in art galleries mostly on the East Coast — because shipping the fragile works farther away is a dicey proposition  — Timmers also uses recycled glass to create sculptural relief panels on new buildings.

In 2011 he completed a commission to create sculptural panels installed in a new, soon-to-be-LEED-certified, Safeway supermarket in Bethesda, Maryland.  He took the window glass from the old store before it was demolished and made panels with a food-related theme: a variety of herb leaves.

Erwin Timmers installing a window he designed for the Safeway grocery store in Bethesda, Maryland.

Interior view of Timmers’ windows for the Safeway in Bethesda, Maryland.

Timmers also works with copper because it is one of the few metals that can be infused in glass. After a  courthouse in Upper Maryland burned down, part of the copper roof was salvageable. Timmers won a competition to devise a structure that incorporated the reclaimed material. He also used the copper in tiles now hanging outside one of the courtrooms.

Bell Tower at Upper Marlboro, Maryland Courthouse was originally on the roof of the old Courthouse that burned down, The current Bell Tower is a commemorative piece created by Erwin Timmers and the Washington Glass School.

Close up of glass panels in the Bell Tower (above).

Recently Timmers completed panels depicting schools of fish for the National Geographic Society to be installed in a ship used for tours of the Antarctic. His work also will be included in the April 2012 Smithsonian Craft Show.

For more information, visit Timmers’ site.

“Art teachers have always used found materials,” Marilyn Brackney said.  “Budgets for art materials are slim, and late in the semester funds are gone. Teachers had to fall back on free supplies.”

Brackney speaks from experience. A trained artist and art educator, she lives in Columbus, Indiana, where she taught in local public schools. In 1988 her budget for art supplies was reduced from $1,000 to $250 for the semester, so she collected discarded items to reuse as art materials. Then she had to figure out projects for them that would interest her elementary through high school students.

While developing her course, she listed each material (e.g., aluminum cans, calendar pictures, latex house paint ) along with step-by-step instructions for each activity.

To share these ideas, her husband, who was director of  technology for the Columbus school system, created a website, The Imagination Factory. The Trash Matcher section pairs each waste material with an illustrated art/recycling “how-to” activity.  It’s a great help to teachers planning classes and parents figuring out what to do with children unexpectedly housebound for an afternoon. The site has been visited by millions of people.

The Imagination Factory website is a family project. The Brackneys' daughter, author Susan Brackney, created the logo.

During her classes Brackney talks about landfills and the need to reuse materials to raise the students’ awareness of the environment. She created Trashasaurus Rex, a 300 pound dinosaur, 9 1/2 feet tall by 11 feet long, made entirely of household rubbish, in protest to a court ruling that forced Indiana to accept trash from the East Coast although their local landfills were almost all filled up. After exhibiting it in Indiana and Florida to raise awareness, she donated it to the Rocky Mount Children’s Museum of North Carolina.

No longer teaching in the public schools, Brackney holds private classes in her home and updates the website with new projects and ideas. She also curates and mounts exhibits created with reused materials — the  Deja Vu Fine Art and Crafts Show — held periodically in Columbus.

In honor of Super Bowl Week 2012,  Brackney was asked to create Tree Cozies to decorate the downtown area of Columbus, an hour from the stadium in Indianapolis. With the help of 32 young volunteers, the group created Super Kids from old and spare mittens, stuffed with fibers from an old pillow.

Super Kids decorations made from odd mittens in honor of the Super Bowl.

Another Indiana art educator, Joe LaMantia, who lives in Bloomington, aims to demystify art, developing projects with communities and schools that they can work on as a group.  He offers “a holistic approach to creating art that’s shaped for each unique cultural setting” with children, parents, families and staff to encourage their imagination. The adults help in assembling the framework for each project, which are usually made with reused materials.

Originally studying to be an architect, LaMantia has picked up a variety of skills in several art careers: He taught art therapy in an adult day care center, spent years as a dimensional illustrator for magazines and publications and helped install exhibits in Boston at the Institute of Contemporary Art and MIT art gallery before carving out his niche as an educator and collaborative, public artist.

For example, when his daughter’s school was moving to a new building, LaMantia approached the principal and suggested that they use materials from the old school for art in the new school.  With the school’s support, he secured funding from the state and city; eventually more than 30 organizations donated money and services.

The result, completed in 2010, is a 12-foot-tall head of a cat — based on a drawing by a fourth grader — made from recycled and new steel. Cat parts are made from recycled steel and aluminum:  The aluminum lettering comes from signage of the old school; the aluminum mouth comes from the old fire escape, the cast iron nose comes from a metal fire door that had these cast iron rollers and the whiskers come from recycled reinforcement rods from a local scrape yard. To make this as inclusive as possible, all the children, teachers  and adults of the school put their handprints on the cat which in turn gave a texture that looks like fur. The project involved about 350 people: students, parents and the immediate community.

Cat made from recycled steel, outside the Artful Learning Center in Bloomington, Indiana.

As Artist in Residence, LaMantia helped a school in Indianapolis build The Villagers’ Bell Tower to commemorate 80 villagers who settled the school’s neighborhood in the late 1800s. Each bell includes a historic or cultural reference to the original settlement.

LaMantia, who has also developed community projects in Kentucky, Illinois, Oklahoma and Minnesota, continues to raise public awareness of the environment while creating an opportunity to work as a community, one unique project at a time.

For more information, visit his website.

I love to both travel and listen to my friends talk about their trips — especially those taken by artist WC-P and her husband, WP, who is an expert with electronics and machines as well as a connoisseur of old cars. The couple only drive vintage cars which WP has renovated. He spent four months restoring a comfortable, roomy 1989 Grand Marquis station wagon which they drove from Arlington, Virginia to visit the iconic Cadillac Ranch in Amarillo, Texas on their vacation in 2007.

Forty years ago, Amarillo billionaire Stanley Marsh lll wanted to create a piece of public art that would baffle the locals. In 1974 he supported a proposal by a group of San Francisco artists known as the Ant Farm to develop a tribute to the evolution of the Cadillac’s tail fin. The artists drove 10 different Cadillac models into one of his fields along Route 66 west of Amarillo, and then half-buried them, hood down, in the dirt — supposedly at the same angle as the Great Pyramid of Gaza. The cars faced west in a line, their tail fins displayed for all to see.

Often-decorated Cadillacs displayed at Cadillac Ranch.

WP visiting the Cadillac Ranch with obligatory supplies -- camera and spray paint -- in hand.

Marsh and the artists watched what happened next. People visited the cars and defaced them or tore off pieces as souvenirs; the tail fins disappeared. Stripped to their frames and splattered with spray paint, the Cadillacs are still on display for large numbers of international tourists who arrive with spray paint and cameras. Adding their graffiti, they ask others to take pictures of them, before someone else comes by and repaints it.

Unfortunately, other tributes to the whole American car have not fared as well.

Spindle, a 1989 sculpture, was located in a shopping center parking lot in Berwyn, Illinois. Commissioned by the center’s owner from sculptor Dustin Shuler, it consisted of eight cars — including the owner’s BMW — impaled on a 50-foot spike. The sculpture’s foundation extended 30 feet into the ground and cost $75,000 to install.

Spindle became both a tourist attraction — it was featured in the film, Wayne’s World, and in the syndicated comic strip, Zippy the Pinhead — and a source of civic controversy.  Some citizens petitioned the mayor to remove it while the mayor claimed it attracted more business to the town. In 2007 it was removed when the shopping center site was redeveloped and nobody ponied up the  $350,000 needed to relocate it.

"Spindle" as it once appeared as a sculpture in Berwyn, Illinois' shopping center.

A 1987 family reunion produced Carhenge in a field outside Alliance, Nebraska, where farmer Jim Reinders has constructed a unique memorial to his father.

While living in England, Reinders had studied the structure and proportions of the ancient Stonehenge. Instead of using massive stones for his monument, however, Reinders arranged 38 vintage American cars, all covered with grey spray paint, in a 95-foot diameter circle. Some sit upright, trunk-end down, in pits nearly five feet deep, with other cars welded on top to form arches. Other automobile sculptures have been added to the Carhenge location over the years.

Carhenge was listed as one of Time magazine’s Top 50 American Roadside Attractions and was featured in the 2007 travel book, 1,000 Places to See in the USA and Canada Before You Die.

"Carhenge," a megalith built on a farm outside Alliance, Nebraska.

"Carhenge" (detail).

The site, visited by 80,000 people a year, is now run by the nonprofit Friends of Carhenge, which does not charge admission; the grounds are open all day, every day.

The Friends no longer have resources to expand the site and have put it up for sale for $300,000. If the group does not find a buyer, President Marcia Buck said the Friends will continue to care for it, including maintenance of these non-moving vehicles. Unlike Cadillac Ranch, when parts fall off, they are put back in place.

“The damn things break down even when they are struck in the ground,” Buck said.