Dust For Sale

'Dust' is an artists' book in the form of a pamphlet; it contains a sequence of my texts and drawings which refer to the 'bin scavengers', the Victorian dust heap and ideas of memorialisation and filth.


'Dust' (2nd edition, 2010) is currently being stocked by Eastside Bookshop, who specialise in local history, fiction and non fiction, amongst other things, and have an interesting range of London focussed books.

Eastside Bookshop
166 Brick Lane
London
E1 6RU
Phone: 020 7247 0216

'Dust' (2nd edition, 2010) is also stocked by Housmans Bookshop.

Housmans is an amazing shop, with a cavern of wonderful printed material. In their words:

'Housmans is London's premier radical bookshop. We specialise in books, zines, and periodicals of radical interest and progressive politics. We stock the largest range of radical newsletters, newspapers and magazines of any shop in Britain.'

Housmans Bookshop
5 Caledonian Road, Kings Cross, London N1 9DX
mobile: 07950 269 286
Tel: 020 7837 4473
shop@housmans.com

The handmade first edition of 'Dust' is available from bookartbookshop, which stocks a vast array of artists' books and multiples.

'bookartbookshop features the publications of some of Britain’s best-known artist presses and publishers of artists’ books, as well as books from abroad. The shop is a centre and a service for individual & institutional collectors, artists, publishers and the aesthetically and bibliographically curious.'

bookartbookshop
17 Pitfield St, LONDON N1 6HB
020 7608 1333
info@bookartbookshop.com

Please view earlier posts for more information on 'Dust' - the pamphlet and exhibition at Hovel:

About Dust

Dust First Edition

Dust exhibition at Hovel

Here is an extract from Dust:

The man in the bin chamber has to climb inside the bin today in order to reach the rubbish, as it’s not very full. He hoists himself up and over the side to stand inside. Since the instigation of recycling schemes the quality of the general household rubbish has gone down. Most useful rubbish – such as containers, glass bottles, and aluminium cans – has been separated and collected separately by the council. That which is deposited in the bins now is mostly Tesco bags filled with rotting food and nappies. But it’s worth looking through. Not everyone recycles. It’s dark in the bin chamber, so the man takes a promising looking bag and pulls it outside and onto the tarmac of the courtyard to look more carefully. He crouches on the floor and splits open the blue plastic bag. Inside are the empty containers of a takeaway, still greasy and spicy smelling, and six empty Stella cans. And something with wires, a hair curler?

…The scattered items are not strewn or thrown; they are simply removed from the bin, awaiting the man’s attention. Whilst I watch, his attention is entirely focussed on one item. I cannot tell exactly what it is. It is rectangular and metallic, apparently aluminium. It could be innards of an electrical ‘white good’, such as a fridge or cooker. But it seems smaller than that to me – perhaps a heater or radiator? Whatever it is it must be sturdy as it is withstanding multiple attempts to dismantle it. The man attempts to pull a side from it. He turns the metal box around and pulls at another side. He lays it on its back and puts his foot on top to give leverage and pulls again. The object remains in tact. He repeats this process, turning, pulling, levering maybe five more times. I watch for five minutes. He does not become frustrated, or does not express it. He patiently repeats his attempts. He pays no attention to the courtyard around him – does not look up at the windows, or across to the doorways or benches. Although it is night it’s not late, and people are still in their kitchens, which face the courtyard, but he is unconcerned with potential observers. One or two people return home to the doorway behind him, but do not even turn to look at him. I wonder if he is invisible. A young man walks past him, and glances over; I guess he is not invisible. But these passers by do not distract him from his enterprise.