Plastic Prayer Flags- Why?
One crisp,cold day I was driving on the A3 in Surrey, the trees had lost their leaves and the sun was bright. All along the sides of the roads silvery, glimmering skeletal trees with their remnants of orange leaves stood out against a blue sky. Every so often I'd catch a glimpse of an extra flash of colour entwined in the branches and twigs of these winter trees. As my attention was drawn to them I began to notice more and more of them, predominantly orange and lime green in colour. The ubiquitous Sainsbury's leaving its mark on the landscape with a surprisingly abundant number of stray bags (the orange) and then a spattering of Marks and Spencer (lime green), then every so often a bright blue (convenience/general store), yellow (Morrisons), white red and blue (Tesco) small black bags (less obvious where from) and a few pale green and white (Waitrose- it was Surrey after all). I had just come back from a long trip to Ladakh visiting temples with brightly colours prayer flags flapping in the thin, dry mountain air. I found a strangely perverse similarity between these tattered coloured cloths printed with mantras and sutras strung along mountains ridges and these discarded remnants of disposable emblazoned with the omnipresent consumer brands of our time strewn throughout the environment.
In London these runaway bags were just as present, stuck to the trees, sch-mooshed into the gutters and clinging to sodden sidewalks- red and white (Iceland), turquoise and red (Argos), bright blue (more convenience store) and of course the orange of Sainsbury's and red white and blue of Tesco.
I began photographing and collecting them, cataloging them by colour and brand. I have struggled somewhat with reaching those caught high in the treetops but I do my best and have now collected quite a number of colours. I know this habit is less than agreeable to my nearest and dearest, as many a romantic walk or friendly stroll has been interrupted by my chasing a wind blown bag or clambering over a hedge to catch my (often very dirty) prize, often still containing waste food prizes (or worse) held tightly between 2 fingers and reminding myself to wash my hands when I get home... Passers by often glance at me in puzzlement as I fumble around to get my phone out to snap and capture a bag before it cunningly escapes on the next gust of wind.
One crisp,cold day I was driving on the A3 in Surrey, the trees had lost their leaves and the sun was bright. All along the sides of the roads silvery, glimmering skeletal trees with their remnants of orange leaves stood out against a blue sky. Every so often I'd catch a glimpse of an extra flash of colour entwined in the branches and twigs of these winter trees. As my attention was drawn to them I began to notice more and more of them, predominantly orange and lime green in colour. The ubiquitous Sainsbury's leaving its mark on the landscape with a surprisingly abundant number of stray bags (the orange) and then a spattering of Marks and Spencer (lime green), then every so often a bright blue (convenience/general store), yellow (Morrisons), white red and blue (Tesco) small black bags (less obvious where from) and a few pale green and white (Waitrose- it was Surrey after all). I had just come back from a long trip to Ladakh visiting temples with brightly colours prayer flags flapping in the thin, dry mountain air. I found a strangely perverse similarity between these tattered coloured cloths printed with mantras and sutras strung along mountains ridges and these discarded remnants of disposable emblazoned with the omnipresent consumer brands of our time strewn throughout the environment.
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| Ladakh, India |
In London these runaway bags were just as present, stuck to the trees, sch-mooshed into the gutters and clinging to sodden sidewalks- red and white (Iceland), turquoise and red (Argos), bright blue (more convenience store) and of course the orange of Sainsbury's and red white and blue of Tesco.
I began photographing and collecting them, cataloging them by colour and brand. I have struggled somewhat with reaching those caught high in the treetops but I do my best and have now collected quite a number of colours. I know this habit is less than agreeable to my nearest and dearest, as many a romantic walk or friendly stroll has been interrupted by my chasing a wind blown bag or clambering over a hedge to catch my (often very dirty) prize, often still containing waste food prizes (or worse) held tightly between 2 fingers and reminding myself to wash my hands when I get home... Passers by often glance at me in puzzlement as I fumble around to get my phone out to snap and capture a bag before it cunningly escapes on the next gust of wind.
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| Colour on the Kingsland Road, London |
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