Walking my route to work one early spring morning last year and taking the left corner by the singel near my apartment as per usual, I saw a sandwich bag full of images, laying on the wall. In my innate nature as a designer and collector, I swooped up the goody bag to inspect later while at work, popping it in my breast pocket as I galloped on and off to work.
Pulling out the small package from my pocket I start to sift through the assortment.
Laying them out one by one, portrait, landscape, portrait, landscape, landscape, portrait, landscape. It seems endless but after a short while, all 70, seven. zero. Seventy! images are laying out in front of me.
What a hoard, what a team. This is obviously a collection. A collection, abandoned, forgotten, neglected, embarrassed? With the tell tale marks on the back side of the image and still attached sticky tape folded over or ripped on some and tell tale marks, one can assume these sandwich bagged Equidaes adorned some bedroom wall. Once gazed upon with affection and admiration, aspiration and inspiration. Now they adorn the inside of a plastic sandwich bag. But what does it mean?